Reincarnated as the Villainess’s Unlucky Bodyguard

The day stretched lazily into the evening, the golden light casting long shadows across the castle grounds. Enara and I had somehow found our way to one of the smaller balconies tucked away from the main corridors a quiet, almost secretive spot overlooking the sprawling gardens. It was serene, the kind of place that felt untouched by the chaos that usually surrounded us.

Enara leaned on the stone railing, her eyes following the patterns of the hedges below. Her usual sharp-edged confidence seemed to have softened in the fading sunlight, and I found myself watching her more than I intended.

"What are you staring at?" she asked, her tone as blunt as ever, though there was no bite to it.

"Nothing," I said quickly, turning my gaze to the horizon. "Just... thinking."

"About what?"

I hesitated, unsure of how much to share. "Everything, I guess. The rift, the voice in my head, the weird changes I've been going through." I exhaled sharply, trying to lighten the mood. "You know, the usual."

Enara snorted. "Yeah, totally normal."

We fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that didn't demand to be filled. For all her sharpness, Enara had a way of making quiet moments feel less awkward, like they were just another part of her world.

"Do you ever think about what you'd be doing if all of this... madness hadn't happened?" I asked, surprising even myself with the question.

Enara tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. "Not really. My life's always been... complicated. Even before you showed up, I was training to take on responsibilities I didn't want. There wasn't a lot of room for daydreaming."

"That sounds... exhausting," I said softly.

"It is," she admitted. "But at least now, with you around, things are less predictable."

"Is that your way of saying I make your life more exciting?"

She smirked. "Something like that. Don't let it go to your head."

I laughed, the sound surprising me with how genuine it was. It wasn't often I let myself feel lighthearted, but being around Enara had a way of peeling back the layers of worry, even if only for a little while.

As the sun dipped lower, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, a cool breeze swept over the balcony. I shivered slightly, and before I could react, Enara shrugged off her jacket and handed it to me.

"Here," she said, avoiding my gaze.

I blinked at her, caught off guard. "Thanks."

"It's nothing," she said quickly, leaning back against the railing and crossing her arms.

Slipping on the jacket, I couldn't help but notice it smelled faintly of her—a mix of lavender and something sharp, like the tang of ozone before a storm. It was oddly comforting.

"Why are you being nice to me?" I asked, half-teasing but also genuinely curious.

She gave me a sidelong glance, her expression unreadable. "Because you're hopeless without me."

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn't help the smile tugging at my lips. "Right. How could I possibly survive without your endless snark and bossiness?"

"You'd be bored," she shot back.

"Maybe," I admitted, leaning against the railing beside her. "But you'd be bored without me, too."

She didn't reply, but the faint smile on her face said enough.

The air grew cooler as night settled in, the stars beginning to dot the sky above us. We didn't leave the balcony, even as the sounds of the castle quieted down, the staff and residents retreating for the evening. It felt like the world had shrunk to just the two of us, and for once, I didn't mind.

"I don't get it," I said after a while, breaking the silence.

"Get what?"

"You. One minute you're biting my head off, and the next you're... this." I gestured vaguely at her.

"This?" she echoed, raising an eyebrow.

"You know. Nice. Almost like a normal person."

She laughed, the sound soft but genuine. "Don't get used to it."

"I wouldn't dream of it," I said, grinning.

The conversation drifted to lighter topics after that—small things, like Enara's favorite hiding spots in the castle and the time I accidentally set a training dummy on fire. We bickered, of course, but it was playful, lacking the usual tension.

At some point, I found myself leaning closer to her, and I realized with a start just how at ease I felt. It wasn't something I was used to, especially with someone like Enara.

"You're staring again," she said without looking at me.

"Am not," I said quickly, turning my gaze to the stars.

"You're terrible at lying," she said, smirking.

"Fine," I said, rolling my eyes. "Maybe I was. You've got something on your face."

Her eyes narrowed. "What?"

"Arrogance," I said, grinning.

She shoved me lightly, and I laughed, the sound carrying into the night.

The night deepened, and the balcony became a cocoon of shared quiet. The only sounds were the faint rustle of leaves below and the occasional hoot of an owl. I let the silence settle between us, focusing on the stars above, wondering if any of them held answers to the endless questions swirling in my head.

Enara stayed still beside me, her presence steady and reassuring in a way I wasn't used to. She didn't push, didn't prod, didn't demand anything from me, and that was something I hadn't realized I needed until now.

"What's it like?" I asked suddenly, breaking the stillness.

"What's what like?"

"Being you," I said, gesturing vaguely at her. "Always in control, always knowing what to do, what to say. You never seem to hesitate."

Enara raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a half-smile. "Is that how you see me? Flawless and infallible?"

"Flawless, no," I shot back. "You're insufferable most of the time. But infallible? Yeah, kind of."

She snorted, shaking her head. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Enlighten me, then," I challenged, leaning my elbows on the railing and tilting my head to look at her.

For a moment, she didn't respond. Then she sighed, her gaze dropping to the gardens below. "It's exhausting," she admitted. "Always having to be the strong one, the capable one. Everyone expects you to have all the answers, and if you don't..." She trailed off, her voice softening. "You're just a disappointment."

The vulnerability in her words caught me off guard. Enara wasn't someone who shared easily, and hearing her admit to something so deeply personal felt like peeling back a layer of armor I hadn't known was there.

"You're not a disappointment," I said firmly. "At least, not to me."

She glanced at me, her midnight eyes unreadable. "You say that now."

"I'll say it tomorrow, too," I said, crossing my arms. "And the day after that. And the day after that. You're stuck with me, so get used to it."

Her lips twitched again, this time into a genuine smile. "You're insufferable."

"Takes one to know one," I said, grinning.

The wind picked up, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from the gardens. I pulled Enara's jacket tighter around me, the warmth of it comforting against the chill.

"You should probably take this back," I said, shrugging off the jacket and holding it out to her.

"Keep it," she said, surprising me.

I blinked at her. "Why?"

"You're cold," she said simply, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Since when do you care about that?"

She smirked, leaning back against the railing. "Don't read too much into it. I just don't want you whining about frostbite later."

"Right," I said, rolling my eyes but slipping the jacket back on anyway. "Because you're so selfless."

"Exactly," she said, her smirk widening.

Despite her teasing, the gesture meant more than I cared to admit. Enara wasn't the type to coddle or offer comfort lightly, and the fact that she was doing it now... well, it was something.

As the conversation lulled again, my thoughts drifted back to the changes I'd been experiencing—the growing black in my hair, the voice in my head, the way my fire magic had felt so wild and untamed earlier. A part of me wanted to confide in Enara, to tell her everything and see if she had any answers.

But another part of me hesitated. She'd been through enough, and burdening her with my problems felt selfish. Besides, what could she do? This wasn't something anyone could fix with a sharp remark or a clever plan.

"You're quiet," Enara said, breaking into my thoughts.

"Just... thinking," I said vaguely.

"About what?"

"Nothing important."

She raised an eyebrow. "Liria, you're a terrible liar."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "It's complicated."

"Everything with you is complicated," she said, crossing her arms. "But that's never stopped you from talking before."

"It's not that easy," I said, avoiding her gaze. "There are things I can't—" I stopped myself, shaking my head. "Never mind."

Enara studied me for a moment, her expression unreadable. "You don't have to tell me everything, you know," she said finally. "But if you ever decide to, I'll listen."

Her words caught me off guard, and I looked at her, surprised by the sincerity in her tone. It wasn't often that Enara dropped her walls, but when she did, it felt like a rare glimpse into something deeper.

"Thanks," I said softly.

She nodded, her gaze returning to the stars.