Reincarnated as the Villainess’s Unlucky Bodyguard

The soft glow of dawn kissed the edges of Shadowspire Keep, its fragile light filtering through the cracks in the stone walls, brushing against battle-worn banners that hung in tatters. The silence was heavy—not the eerie quiet of defeat, but the fragile stillness that comes after the storm, when every breath feels borrowed and every heartbeat is a silent vow to keep moving forward.

Verida Valthorne stood alone in her quarters, the faint scent of smoke and steel still clinging to her crimson skin. She leaned against the edge of a narrow window, golden eyes tracing the distant horizon where the Abyssal Rift shimmered like a wound in the fabric of reality.

Her fingers toyed absently with the edges of the letter lying on the table beside her. The words were burned into her memory, each line carrying the weight of Nyssara Starwind's audacity and charm.

Try not to bring your swords.

A dry chuckle escaped Verida's lips. "As if I'd be that reckless," she murmured to herself, though her mind drifted to the hidden dagger now strapped discreetly against her thigh.

There was something about Nyssara that unsettled her more than any battlefield ever could. It wasn't the mage's power—no, Verida had faced power before and knew how to counter it. It was her presence, the way she moved through the world like she owned it, bending reality itself to her whims with the ease of a star bending light.

Why the hell did she have to smile like that?

Verida pushed herself away from the window and paced the room. She wasn't one for frivolities—there was always another fight, another fortress to defend, another strategy to sharpen. But today, her mind was a battlefield of its own, torn between anticipation and exasperation.

Her lieutenant's voice echoed in her head from the previous night. "You've been pacing for an hour, General. Even the ghosts are getting nervous."

She scoffed at the memory. Let them be nervous.

Her reflection in the tarnished mirror caught her attention. Bloodstains had been scrubbed away, but faint scars crisscrossed her arms, souvenirs from countless battles. Her hair, a cascade of jet black, was pulled into a tight braid, a habit she never abandoned even in moments of peace.

Peace. Was that what this meeting promised? No, not peace. Something more dangerous. Something unpredictable.

Nyssara Starwind.

The name itself felt like a spell, one that tugged at the edges of Verida's carefully constructed armor.

A sharp knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. "General, the transport is ready," a voice called from the other side.

Verida inhaled deeply. She'd faced death more times than she could count. Facing Nyssara shouldn't feel so… daunting.

Yet, as she stepped out into the cool morning air, the letter carefully tucked inside her coat, she couldn't shake the feeling that this might be her most dangerous battle yet.

The Moonlit Garden in Duskwatch City was nothing like Verida had imagined.

She expected a gaudy, overgrown sanctuary filled with useless aristocrats and their pointless gossip. What she found instead was a secluded haven where the very air felt enchanted, each breath laced with the faint scent of night-blooming jasmine and ancient magic.

Lanterns floated above the winding stone pathways, casting soft pools of golden light that flickered with the slightest breeze. Silver-blue petals drifted lazily through the air, carried by an unseen current, landing silently on the tranquil waters of the garden's central pond.

Verida felt out of place. She was a creature of battlefields and war rooms, of grit and blood and unrelenting resolve. Here, amidst delicate blooms and whispering leaves, she felt like a misplaced weapon in a world crafted for poetry.

And where the hell is—

"You came."

The voice, smooth and unmistakable, drifted from behind her.

Verida turned sharply, hand instinctively brushing the hilt of a nonexistent sword.

Nyssara Starwind stood beneath a blossom-laden archway, her midnight-blue gown flowing like liquid starlight around her. She held a single white flower in her hand, gently twirling it between her fingers. Her silver hair cascaded down her back, catching the soft glow of the lanterns, and her lilac eyes sparkled with that infuriating mixture of amusement and challenge.

Verida's mouth felt dry. "You sound surprised," she said, forcing her voice into its usual commanding tone.

Nyssara's lips curved into a faint smile. "Not surprised. Pleased."

"Pleased?" Verida raised an eyebrow. "What, you thought I'd run away?"

Nyssara stepped closer, the distance between them shrinking with each unhurried stride. "No. I thought you'd find an excuse. Generals are awfully good at avoiding anything that isn't war."

Verida crossed her arms, leaning against a nearby stone pillar. "And witches are awfully good at being insufferable."

Nyssara's laughter was soft, almost melodic. "Touché."

They stood in silence for a moment, the distant hum of the city barely a whisper against the quiet symphony of the garden.

"You didn't bring your swords," Nyssara noted, her gaze flickering down to Verida's side.

"No," Verida admitted, a smirk playing on her lips. "But I brought a dagger."

Nyssara's eyes glinted with mischief. "Smart woman."

Verida felt her defenses waver, just slightly. Damn her.

They walked side by side through the garden, the tension between them a delicate thread stretched tight, threatening to snap at any moment.

"So," Verida began, her tone laced with curiosity, "why breakfast? And why here?"

Nyssara's fingers brushed the petals of a nearby flower. "Because breakfast is honest. It's not draped in the pretense of grand dinners or the intoxication of midnight revelries. And here…" She gestured around them. "Here, the world is quiet enough to hear what matters."

Verida shot her a sidelong glance. "And what matters, Starwind?"

Nyssara's steps slowed, her gaze locking onto Verida's with unnerving intensity. "You."

Verida felt her heartbeat stutter. She opened her mouth to deflect, to counter with some sharp remark, but found the words stuck in her throat.

Damn her twice.

Nyssara's lips quirked. "Speechless? I must be doing something right."

Verida exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "You're impossible."

"And yet," Nyssara said softly, "you're here."

The honesty in her voice caught Verida off guard. It wasn't the playful teasing or the veiled flirtation she expected. It was something more… raw.

They reached a small stone pavilion overlooking the Abyssal Rift, where a simple table was set with an assortment of breakfast delicacies—fresh fruits, warm bread, and a pot of dark, fragrant coffee.

Nyssara poured them both a cup, her movements graceful as ever. "Tell me, General," she said, settling into her seat, "do you ever tire of fighting?"

Verida blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Fighting is what I do. What I am."

"But is it all you want to be?" Nyssara's gaze was steady, unyielding.

Verida hesitated. No one had ever asked her that before. Not her soldiers, not her enemies, not even herself.

What do I want to be?

She took a slow sip of coffee, the bitterness grounding her. "I don't know," she admitted quietly.

Nyssara's smile was soft this time, devoid of its usual sharpness. "Then maybe… you should start finding out."

Verida felt a strange warmth in her chest, a flicker of something she couldn't name. She hated it. She wanted more of it.

"Why me?" she asked finally. "You could have anyone. Why chase after a battle-hardened general with trust issues and a fondness for violence?"

Nyssara leaned forward, her voice a whisper that seemed to echo through the still morning air. "Because beneath all that armor, I see someone who's never allowed herself to want. And I find that… captivating."

Verida swallowed hard, the weight of those words settling deep within her.

"Besides," Nyssara added with a playful smirk, "I've always enjoyed a good challenge."

Verida chuckled, shaking her head. "You're insane."

"Only a little." Nyssara's eyes sparkled. "But you like it."

Verida looked out at the endless expanse of the Rift, feeling, for the first time in years, that perhaps there was more to life than war and survival.

Maybe, just maybe, there was also love.
Stay tuned to My Virtual Library Empire

And it terrified her.

But as Nyssara reached across the table, her fingers brushing Verida's hand gently, the fear felt a little less overwhelming.

For now, at least.

The silence between them stretched, not uncomfortable but charged with the weight of unspoken truths. Verida's fingers, usually calloused from sword hilts and battle, felt almost clumsy against the delicate touch of Nyssara's hand. She could feel the faint pulse of magic beneath the witch's skin, a soft hum that resonated through her own nerves, unsettling and magnetic all at once.

"Do you ever stop analyzing everything?" Nyssara asked, her voice low, teasing, but with an undercurrent of sincerity.

Verida blinked, caught off guard again. "Habit," she muttered. "In battle, overthinking keeps you alive."

Nyssara's lips curved into a faint smile. "And here? With me?"

Verida's golden eyes narrowed slightly. "Haven't decided if you're a battle yet."

Nyssara chuckled softly. "Oh, I'm far more dangerous than any battlefield, General."

Verida huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. "You're certainly confident."

Nyssara's hand gave a gentle squeeze before retreating, leaving behind a lingering warmth. "Not confidence," she whispered. "Certainty."

Verida's heart gave that annoying flutter again, and she cursed it silently. But when Nyssara stood, her gown shimmering like liquid night, and offered a hand, Verida didn't hesitate.

The morning sun was rising higher, casting soft light over the Moonlit Garden, and as they walked together through the quiet paths, Verida realized something unsettling.

For the first time in a long, long while, she didn't mind not knowing what came next.