Reincarnated as the Villainess’s Unlucky Bodyguard

The gates of the inner sanctum sealed with a sound like finality stone grinding against stone, reinforced with layers of ancient enchantments and burning sigils that flared gold for a moment, then faded into silence. The air inside was cold, the kind of cold born from trauma rather than temperature. Not a chill of weather, but of the soul.

Enara leaned against the wall, breath ragged, heart pounding. Her magic pulsed weakly beneath her skin, spent and fragile, like a flame too long pushed against the wind. Her arm still burned where the spear had grazed her earlier, and her body ached in ways that went far beyond the physical.

But she was alive.

So was Daena. And her mothers. And at least some of their people.

That had to count for something.

She slid down the wall to the floor, shadows curling gently around her like a protective cocoon. It wasn't fear. Not exactly. But something in her had been cracked open something raw and vulnerable, a truth she wasn't quite ready to name.

Because Liria had looked right at her. Had raised her hand. Had chosen Azael.

And Enara didn't know how to recover from that.

She closed her eyes, her voice barely a whisper. "She didn't even hesitate."

Across the chamber, Daena grunted as a healer tended to her ribs. "She's not herself. You know that."

Enara didn't answer.

Nyssara stood at one end of the hall, her long silver hair disheveled and streaked with ash, but her posture still perfectly upright, hands clasped tightly behind her back. Her lavender skin had been scored by a thin line of shadow magic across her collarbone, but her expression betrayed no pain. Only calculation.

Verida paced like a caged storm, her boots echoing against the polished stone with each heavy step. Her sword half-melted at the tip rested against her shoulder like a question she hadn't yet asked aloud.

They hadn't spoken much since the retreat. They hadn't needed to.

But Enara could feel their tension as clearly as the magic pressing against the sanctum walls.

"Explain again," Verida said, stopping mid-step to face Enara, her golden eyes glowing faintly. "Who was he?"

"I told you," Enara said tiredly. "He was human. He just showed up… and saved us."

"Humans don't do that," Nyssara said, her tone calm but razor-sharp. "Especially not for demons."

Daena let out a rough laugh, wincing as the healer wrapped her ribs. "She's not wrong. Helping our kind is a quick way to get yourself exiled, stabbed, or set on fire."

"He wasn't just helping," Enara said. "He fought like he meant it. Like it was personal."

Nyssara narrowed her eyes. "And that doesn't concern you?"

Before Enara could answer, the magic seals on the outer gate flared again—this time not in warning, but in recognition.

Someone was approaching.

Everyone moved at once. Verida gripped her sword tighter. Nyssara's fingers twitched toward the blade she kept hidden beneath her sleeve. Daena pushed the healer aside and stood, despite her wounds. Even the remaining guards raised weapons, their horns glowing faintly as they formed a protective wall around their princess.

Enara stood too, the ache in her body forgotten as adrenaline returned with brutal clarity.

Then the door creaked open.

And in walked the human.

He looked almost casual his glowing sword sheathed across his back, his posture relaxed despite the fact that every demon in the room had a weapon pointed at his vital organs. His clothes were singed, his hair messy, and his face bore more than one smear of dried blood, but his expression was calm, his eyes clear and steady.

He stopped several paces inside and raised his hands slowly.

"Okay," he said. "Hi. So, awkward question do any of you have food? Because I am starving."

Silence.

Enara blinked.

Daena made a faint choking sound that might've been laughter. Or disgust.

Nyssara didn't move.

Verida stepped forward slowly, sword raised, her voice low and dangerous. "You think you can waltz in here, crack jokes, and we'll hand you dinner?"

The human shrugged. "Well, I did save your lives."

He looked at Enara then not with arrogance, but with quiet, sincere curiosity. "You looked like you could use the help."

Enara hesitated, then took a slow step forward. "You're human."

He nodded. "Yep. That's usually the first thing people point out."

"You fought like you weren't."

That made him smile, crooked and tired. "I get that a lot."

Daena crossed her arms, still grimacing from her injuries. "So what's your angle, hero?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Hero?"

"That's what he is," Enara said, her voice soft but certain. "He's the Hero of this world. From the prophecy. The one no one believed would actually appear."

That made everyone go still again.

Verida narrowed her eyes, expression unreadable. "You expect me to believe that the human savior the Seers babbled about for generations just happens to show up now? Right when our kingdom's on the brink of collapse?"

The man shrugged. "I don't really do prophecies. I was just trying to stop people from dying."

Nyssara studied him for a long, tense moment. "What's your name?"

He seemed to consider for a moment, then gave a small smile. "Call me Kael."

Enara repeated it under her breath. "Kael."

He turned to her. "And you're Enara. Right?"

She nodded slowly. "Yes."

"You were incredibly brave out there. I just wanted to say that."

Her cheeks flushed before she could stop herself, heat rising like betrayal under her skin. "I didn't do anything."

"You held the line," he said gently. "You kept your people alive. That matters."

It shouldn't have meant anything. It shouldn't have made her heart jump a little. But it did. And that terrified her more than anything else.

Behind her, Daena let out a groan of annoyance. "Ugh, he's charming. Of course he's charming. I knew this was going to be a problem."

Kael smirked. "I promise I'm not trying to be."

Nyssara folded her arms. "You'll forgive us if we don't immediately trust the strangely well-timed appearance of a human with a glowing sword and suspiciously convenient knowledge of our names."

"I get it," Kael said seriously. "You have every right to be suspicious. But I'm not your enemy."

"And why, exactly, are you fighting on our side?" Verida demanded. "What do you gain from this?"

Kael was quiet for a moment. Then he looked at Enara again.

"Because what I saw today the destruction, the pain, the control none of that is right. And I don't care if you're demons or humans or anything in between. No one deserves to live under that kind of power."

There was something raw in his voice. Something that didn't sound rehearsed or convenient. It sounded real.

Enara felt herself nod, almost involuntarily.

Verida didn't look convinced. "You'll be watched. Closely."

"I wouldn't expect anything else," Kael said.

"Try anything," Nyssara added smoothly, "and we will not hesitate."

"Noted."

Enara stepped forward, ignoring the looks from her family. She offered him a hand. "Thank you, Kael. You saved us."

He took it gently, his grip warm, his smile surprisingly soft. "You're welcome."

They stood like that for a moment just long enough for the weight of the moment to settle between them.

Then Daena muttered, "If they start making heart-eyes at each other, I will throw myself into a volcano."

Kael turned. "Is that a demon thing or a personal preference?"

"Both." Daena's voice was flat, arms crossed, her horns catching the light as she scowled in Kael's direction like she was already envisioning which volcano would be the most satisfying to swan dive into.

Kael chuckled, shaking his head a little, then turned back to Enara. There was something softer in his expression now, something more hesitant like he was trying to unwrap a thought too delicate to be forced.

"Hey," he said, his voice lower, quieter, "the girl that was beside Azael... the one with the black hair. Heterochromatic eyes. I—uh." He hesitated, then ran a hand through his already messy hair, the flush creeping up his neck surprisingly human for someone wielding divine light. "I don't know how to explain this without sounding completely ridiculous, but… the moment I saw her, something just hit me. Like lightning. Not her magic, though I'm sure she's more than capable but something else. I guess what I'm trying to say is… who is she?"

Enara went still.

Kael didn't seem to notice her body tense, her fingers tightening at her sides. "What's her name?" he asked, more gently now. "I know she's with Azael, but I could tell… she wasn't fighting. She didn't attack. She looked like she was trapped."

Enara's throat burned.

"Liria," she said finally, voice clipped, sharp like frost biting a blooming petal. "Her name is Liria Silverthorn."

Kael's smile softened, his gaze distant now, somewhere far away. "Liria," he repeated, as if it were something sacred. "Beautiful name… suits her."

Enara's eye twitched.

"She looked like she didn't want to be there," Kael continued, clearly oblivious to the murderous tension radiating from Enara. "And there was this moment—just for a second—she looked at me like she was screaming from behind glass. I swear it. I don't know why, but I can't get her out of my head. I want to help her. I need to."

"You need to shut up," Enara snapped before she could stop herself.

Everyone turned to stare.

Kael blinked. "I—sorry, did I say something wrong?"

"Liria doesn't need you," Enara said coldly. "She doesn't need some glowing human hero showing up with his magical sword and messiah complex. She's mine—"

A beat of silence.

"I mean, she's our responsibility," Enara corrected, voice stiff, cheeks flushing. "She's our—our problem to solve. Not yours."

A slow, dramatic sigh came from the side of the room.

Ananara, perched regally on a broken chunk of stone, swirled the straw in her juice like a woman watching a particularly juicy drama unfold.

"Oh good," the pineapple drawled. "We've reached the 'territorial jealousy' stage. Took you long enough. I was starting to think this would stay emotionally repressed forever."

"Stay out of this," Enara muttered.

Kael raised both hands, confused but smiling awkwardly. "Okay, I'm clearly missing something here…"

"Oh, you poor, oblivious sparkle boy," Ananara cooed. "You've just stepped directly into the middle of an emotional disaster, and I, for one, can't wait to watch it explode."