Reincarnated as the Villainess's Unlucky Bodyguard-Chapter 157: Paranoia Looks Good on Me

Liria knew something was off the moment she woke up.

It wasn’t the usual I-didn’t-get-enough-sleep-because-I-have-too-many-existential-crises kind of off. No, this was different. The kind of unease that made her skin prickle and her instincts whisper that she was being watched.

Which was ridiculous, because the only other living thing in her room was Ananara, currently perched on a chair like some self-important deity, his leafy crown tilted just enough to suggest that even in sleep, he believed himself superior.

Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling.

[You look tense,] the system commented, materializing its text in the corner of her vision. [Like you’re expecting something to jump out at you.]

Gee, I wonder why, Liria thought dryly, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. She stared at the floorboards, half-expecting them to creak under invisible pressure.

There was nothing there. No movement. No strange shadows creeping in the corners of her room. Just the usual I’m-living-in-a-demon-castle aesthetic.

Maybe she was just losing it.

Or maybe she wasn’t paranoid enough.

Ananara let out a dramatic sigh, his voice groggy with sleep. "If you’re going to have an existential breakdown, could you do it somewhere quieter? Some of us require beauty rest."

"You’re a pineapple," she shot back. "What exactly needs rest?"

"Excuse you, I am a highly sophisticated being who must maintain my regal form."

"You’re a fruit."

"A fruit with standards, unlike you, peasant."

Liria rolled her eyes but couldn’t shake the growing unease slithering up her spine. Something wasn’t right.

She ran a hand through her hair—still black. Still a stark reminder that she was changing, that something inside her was shifting whether she liked it or not.

But this wasn’t about that.

This was about the fact that she felt eyes on her.

Watching. Waiting.

It didn’t feel like an enemy, at least not yet. But it was intrusive, pressing against her awareness like a weight she couldn’t shake.

She stood abruptly, ignoring Ananara’s dramatic finally as she stretched and threw on something vaguely acceptable. Maybe she just needed food. That was always a good first step when existential dread kicked in.

The castle’s dining hall was its usual brand of excessive. Golden chandeliers, a table long enough to seat a small army, and servants moving about like well-trained phantoms. Liria slumped into her usual seat beside Enara, who glanced at her with mild interest before focusing back on her plate.

Daena was absent—probably dealing with whatever secret mission she had been dragged into. The Queen Consort, Nyssara, was also missing. That left only Queen Verida at the head of the table, sipping something dark and ominous-looking, as if plotting someone’s demise before breakfast.

"You’re jumpy," Enara commented, stabbing a piece of fruit with far more aggression than necessary.

"I’m not jumpy," Liria lied.

Enara arched a brow. "You keep glancing over your shoulder like someone’s about to stab you."

"That’s just called being responsible in this castle," Liria muttered. Stay connected through novelbuddy

[She has a point,] the system chimed in. [You’re acting like someone’s about to drop from the ceiling and declare a blood feud.]

That has happened before, Liria reminded it.

[Yes, and statistically, it’ll probably happen again. But today? No. Today, you’re just being paranoid.]

Liria wasn’t so sure.

She could feel it. A presence. A lingering weight in the room that didn’t belong. It wasn’t hostile, but it wasn’t passive either. It was studying her.

Which meant that whoever it was, they knew.

They knew something had changed.

And Liria hated that.

Breakfast went on with the usual flair of noble nonsense. Verida asked about Enara’s studies. Enara lied through her teeth. Liria entertained the idea of setting something on fire just to lighten the mood.

And all the while, that feeling never left her.

By the time they finished, Liria was certain of one thing.

She was being followed.

Not visibly, not in any way that a normal person would notice. But she wasn’t normal, and neither was her intuition. Someone was keeping an eye on her, tracking her movements, waiting for something.

And that pissed her off.

She hated being watched. She had spent months keeping her secrets buried, pretending she was just some reckless idiot with a knack for survival. But now, someone was peeling back the layers.

And she hated it.

So she did what any rational person would do.

She decided to catch them.

Liria spent the next few hours pretending everything was normal. She wandered through the castle, stopping in all the usual places the gardens, the library, the training grounds. And every time, the presence followed.

It was subtle, but she was sure of it now.

They weren’t trying to hide. They were testing her.

Seeing if she would react.

So she gave them something to react to.

She turned down a quiet corridor, one of the older wings of the castle where few people wandered. It was isolated, which meant that if her stalker followed, it would be clear they weren’t just passing by.

And sure enough—

A shift in the air. A flicker of movement just beyond her vision.

Got you.

Liria whirled, fast, her sword already half-drawn as she lunged forward , and nothing.

The hall was empty.

She narrowed her eyes, straining her senses, but the presence was gone. Just like that.

It was as if it had never been there at all.

[Well, that was anticlimactic,] the system deadpanned.

Liria exhaled slowly, gripping the hilt of her sword.

This wasn’t over.

Whoever it was, they were playing a game.

And Liria?

She was done being played with.

The Dark Sovereign leaned back against her obsidian throne, amusement flickering in her golden eyes. Her fingers drummed idly against the armrest, her nails glistening like sharpened onyx. Across the shifting void of her prison, the tendrils of her power stretched outward, seeking, observing, toying.

Her dear daughter was growing more interesting by the day.

But tonight, her attention was elsewhere.

Seraphis.

The woman had always been sharp—too sharp for her own good. A threat if left unchecked. And now, she was poking her nose where it didn’t belong, watching Liria with those calculating, suspicious eyes.

Unacceptable.

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With a slow exhale, the Dark Sovereign reached out, her power slithering through the unseen threads of reality. It traveled like a shadow on the wind, slipping through cracks and crevices, twisting past defenses that mortals thought were strong. Foolish. There was no fortress that could keep her out, no spell that could bar her sight.

She found Seraphis exactly where she expected her—alone, deep within the confines of her chambers. The woman sat at her desk, brow furrowed, fingers tapping against the polished surface in contemplation. Scrolls and documents lay scattered before her, ink glistening under dim candlelight.

The Dark Sovereign could almost taste the tension in the air. Seraphis was thinking—too much.

Smirking, she let her magic slip into the room. Just a whisper at first. A flicker in the candle flame.

Seraphis didn’t react.

Good.

She pushed a little further.

The shadows lengthened unnaturally, twisting against the stone walls. The air grew thick, humming with a presence that did not belong.

Seraphis’ fingers paused mid-tap. Her sharp violet eyes darted toward the flickering candle. The flame trembled as if gasping for breath, its glow swallowed by a creeping darkness.

Seraphis inhaled slowly, straightening her posture.

Interesting. Not afraid. Yet.

The Dark Sovereign let her power slither closer, a silent whisper against the edges of Seraphis’ consciousness.

You are meddling where you shouldn’t.

The candle extinguished.

The room plunged into complete darkness.

For a moment, nothing moved.

Then Seraphis stood. Slowly. Deliberately. No panic, no hesitation. A flick of her fingers, and a new flame bloomed to life, hovering just above her palm. The warm glow cast sharp shadows across her features, accentuating the lines of her face—the face of a woman who had seen monsters before and refused to cower.

The Dark Sovereign almost laughed.

Brave.

Foolish.

Let’s see how long that lasts.

The walls groaned. A breath of cold, dry air slithered through the chamber, carrying the scent of something long buried.

Seraphis’ grip on her magic tightened, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Show yourself."

The Dark Sovereign did not.

Instead, she let her presence curl around the woman like an unseen coil, squeezing just enough to make her feel it.

The air pressed against Seraphis’ chest, heavy, suffocating. The flickering flame above her hand dimmed, as if something unseen was leeching the life from it.

Still, Seraphis didn’t waver.

The Dark Sovereign’s smirk widened.

"I don’t know who you are," Seraphis murmured, her voice steady but edged with steel. "But I don’t take kindly to intruders."

Ah, but that was the fun part, wasn’t it?

She wasn’t here.

Not really.

Just a whisper. Just a breath.

But she could still make her feel it.

I wonder, the Dark Sovereign mused, letting her voice seep into Seraphis’ mind, silky and venomous, how much you really know. How much you truly understand about that little human you’ve been watching so closely.

Seraphis tensed.

The Dark Sovereign felt her pulse quicken. Oh, she was good at hiding it. But fear always left a trace.

She’s not what you think she is, the Dark Sovereign whispered. She never was.

Seraphis’ jaw tightened. "You talk too much."

A surge of power erupted from Seraphis’ body, a barrier of searing white magic snapping into place around her like a shield. The pressure in the room broke instantly, the shadows recoiling as the Dark Sovereign’s presence was pushed back.

For the first time, she let out a soft chuckle.

Oh, this one had teeth.

How delightful.

But it didn’t matter.

Seraphis could throw up all the barriers she wanted, wield all the magic she could muster—it wouldn’t change a damn thing.

Liria already belonged to her.

And soon, everyone else will see it too.

The Dark Sovereign let go of her hold, withdrawing her presence like a serpent retreating into the dark. The candle relit itself, flickering softly as if nothing had ever happened. The air returned to normal.

But she knew Seraphis wouldn’t forget.

Not now.

Not ever.

As the shadows coiled back into the abyss, the Dark Sovereign reclined once more in her throne, golden eyes glinting with satisfaction.

This was only the beginning.