Reincarnated as the Villainess’s Unlucky Bodyguard

Morning arrived in slow, creeping waves.

Liria stirred beneath the covers, the soft weight of the blankets pressing down like a barrier between her and the waking world. The air was still cool from the night, the pale light of dawn filtering through the curtains in thin slivers. It should have been peaceful. A moment of quiet after the chaos of the dungeon, a well-earned rest.

But something was off.

Her body felt… different. Not just sore, though the deep ache of battle lingered in her muscles. There was a heaviness beneath her skin, a quiet hum in her bones, like something vast and unseen coiled inside her, waiting.

She inhaled deeply, but the scent of the morning air normally crisp, tinged with the faint traces of old parchment and the distant spice of the academy's kitchens seemed duller somehow. Muted. As if the world had lost just a fraction of its color.

Liria frowned and sat up, running a hand through her hair. Her fingers trembled slightly.

Weird.

[Good morning, sunshine. You look like death warmed over.]

The system's voice crackled into existence, its usual sarcasm laced with the unmistakable sharpness of scrutiny.

Liria groaned, rubbing her face. "Feel like it too," she muttered.

[That's what happens when you get half your ribs caved in by an abyssal overlord and then pass out without healing properly. Shocking, I know.]

She rolled her eyes but swung her legs over the side of the bed, flexing her fingers experimentally. The movement felt… slow. Not sluggish, exactly, but deliberate, like something was calculating each motion just a fraction of a second before she did.

That humming in her bones remained.

Liria frowned. "Something's off."

[Oh? Please, do elaborate. I'd hate to assume you mean the mild concussion, the lingering mana depletion, or the fact that you barely survived your last dungeon run.]

"No," she muttered, rolling her shoulders. "It's not that. It's… I don't know. I just feel weird."

[Define weird. You're usually a walking disaster. Is this worse?]

Liria hesitated, struggling to put it into words. The feeling wasn't unpleasant. If anything, it was powerful. There was a rawness to it, something primal and vast that coiled just beneath the surface of her skin.

Like she could reach out and héros gaze flickered to the wooden chair by the desk, the one she always knocked over when she was in a rush.

A strange impulse prickled at the back of her mind.

What if I just—

The thought finished itself before she even realized what she was doing.

A subtle pulse rippled through her veins, and before she could blink, the chair tipped over. Not by accident. Not from an external force.

From her.

Liria froze.

[…Did you just—?]

The system's voice cut off abruptly.

The chair clattered against the floor, harmless, ordinary. But Liria's heart pounded against her ribs, her breath suddenly sharp, electric.

She hadn't moved. She hadn't even touched it.

But it had fallen.

Her fingers curled into the sheets.

What was that?

The system remained eerily silent.

Liria swallowed hard, trying to shake the crawling sensation along her spine. It had been a fluke. A coincidence. She was tired, still recovering from the fight. Maybe there had been a draft but she knew, deep down, that wasn't true.

And worse?

It felt right.

Like a part of her had always been capable of doing it. Like she had simply remembered something long forgotten.

The thought sent a chill through her, but at the same time, a spark of something darker something hungry uncoiled in the pit of her stomach.

The memory of the Abyssal Monarch's power, of the effortless command it had over its domain, surfaced in her mind unbidden.

It had spoken with absolute certainty. Moved with undeniable control. As though the world bent at its will, not the other way around.

And now, standing in the dim morning light, her pulse thrumming with something that felt suspiciously like power, Liria couldn't shake the feeling that she understood.

Not completely. Not yet.

But the whisper was there.

And it wasn't leaving.

She dressed quickly, avoiding her reflection as she pulled on her usual attire. For the first time in a long while, the sight of her own mismatched eyes felt unnerving.

She needed air.

The halls of the academy were quiet at this hour, most students still lingering in their dorms before morning classes. Liria walked without a destination, the heavy wooden doors eventually leading her outside, where the crisp morning air did little to dispel the unease curling inside her.

The training grounds were empty, the practice dummies standing eerily still beneath the gray-blue sky. Liria approached one, her fingers twitching at her sides.

The feeling hadn't faded. If anything, it had settled deeper into her, a part of her now.

She clenched her fist.

A memory surfaced Daena's overwhelming power when she had saved her from the Hellbeast. The sheer, effortless force of it.

Is this what it feels like? To hold power like that?

Her fingers twitched.

And the dummy shuddered.

Liria took a sharp step back, breath catching in her throat.

[Okay. Yeah. I'm calling it. That's not normal.]

The system's voice snapped her out of the haze, but she barely registered its usual sarcasm.

"…I didn't touch it." Her voice was quiet.

[No kidding.]

Liria's hands curled into fists, her heartbeat hammering against her ribs.

This wasn't magic. Not her magic. It wasn't fire, it wasn't shadowflame it was something else. Something that resonated deep in her bones, that slithered at the edge of her thoughts.@@novelbin@@

Something old.

[Alright, listen. I don't know what's happening, but whatever it is? Stop.]

"I—"

[No. No 'I'. No experimenting. No seeing what else you can do. This? This is the kind of thing that leads to ominous villain monologues and world-ending catastrophes. Stop now, while you still can.]

Liria forced herself to take a breath, steadying her thoughts.

The system was right.

This was dangerous.

But even as she took a step away from the dummy, even as she clenched her hands and tried to shove the feeling down, the whisper inside her remained.

This power is yours.

You've merely forgotten.

Liria swallowed hard.

She wouldn't listen.

She couldn't.

But for the first time in her life, she wasn't entirely sure if she had a choice.

The whisper in her mind refused to fade.

Liria exhaled slowly, forcing herself to push it away. The last thing she needed was to spiral down some ominous, existential rabbit hole about unknown power while standing in the middle of the academy's training grounds.

But she couldn't deny it.

Something was changing.

And she wasn't sure she wanted to stop it.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps—light and precise, paired with the unmistakable click of polished shoes against stone.

Enara.

Liria turned just as the demon princess stepped into view, her regal posture as flawless as ever, dark violet eyes sweeping over the grounds before settling on Liria with a critical gaze.

"Of course," Enara said, her voice smooth but edged with impatience. "I should have known I'd find you here, brooding over something stupid."

Liria's mouth twitched. "Good morning to you too, Your Highness."

"Don't patronize me," Enara huffed, folding her arms. "We have a schedule, and you're already late."

Liria groaned internally. Right. Her job.

Being Enara's bodyguard was less about actual protection—considering the girl was powerful enough to reduce most enemies to ash with a flick of her fingers—and more about keeping the academy from descending into chaos whenever her temper flared.

Or, more accurately, keeping Enara entertained enough that she didn't get bored and start causing problems on purpose.

"I wasn't brooding," Liria muttered.

Enara arched a delicate brow. "Then why do you look like you're two seconds away from a dramatic soliloquy about the futility of existence?"

Liria scowled. "You want something. Just say it."

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Before Enara could reply, an irritated voice cut through the conversation.

"Ugh! You two are so slow."

A bright blur shot across Liria's vision before landing dramatically on her shoulder.

Ananara, her sentient pineapple of a familiar, settled herself into a comfortable position with the kind of self-importance only an enchanted fruit could possess.

"First, let's address the real crime here," Ananara announced. "Liria, you look horrendous. Were you trying to impress the undead? Because if so, congratulations—you've achieved peak corpse aesthetic."

Liria sighed. "Ananara, please."

"I will not please," Ananara sniffed. "Not when I've been forced to wait entire minutes for your lazy existence to be useful."

Enara smirked. "For once, I agree."

Liria pinched the bridge of her nose. "If you're both here just to roast me, I'd like to formally resign from this day."

"Denied," Enara said smoothly. "You're coming with me. We have a meeting."

Liria blinked. "Since when?"

"Since now."

"That's not how scheduling works."

Enara ignored her, already turning on her heel. "We're expected at the royal estate's private study. My mothers requested my presence."

Liria's stomach twisted slightly. Queen Verida and Queen Nyssara weren't exactly the type to request anything unless it was important.

Or dangerous.

She glanced at Enara, but the demon princess's expression was unreadable.

Liria sighed. "Fine. Let's go."

Ananara hummed in satisfaction. "Finally. Motion. I was beginning to fear I'd be forced to witness more of your angsty monologues."

Liria swatted at the floating fruit, but Ananara dodged effortlessly, cackling as she hovered ahead.