Reincarnated as the Villainess’s Unlucky Bodyguard

I resisted the urge to throw him across the hall. Barely.

"Careful, Liria," Ananara warned, perched on my shoulder like an overpriced, sentient fashion accessory. "Assaulting your familiar would be a terrible look. Even for someone like you."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I said through gritted teeth. "Did I give the impression I cared?"

"Only every time you insist on breathing," he shot back.

I turned to glare at him, but my thoughts were interrupted by Enara, who stopped mid-stride and frowned. "Why aren't you following me to class?"

"What?" I blinked. "Isn't it obvious? I'm going to class with you. You know, where I learn useless things and avoid responsibility. My favorite part of the day."

Enara tilted her head, her expression halfway between amusement and pity. "Oh no, sweet summer fool. Your punishment starts now."

"What do you mean, now?" I asked, the first hints of panic creeping into my voice.

Enara shrugged, her smirk widening. "Didn't Daena tell you? You're excused from classes for a week. Instead, you get to bond with the Academy grounds—personally. I hear the weeds are excellent conversationalists."

"Excused?!" I practically screeched. "Groundskeeping isn't a punishment; it's a death sentence!"

[It's also very funny,] the system chimed in, its words floating in my vision like a smug little curse.

"Oh, shut up," I muttered under my breath.

"What was that?" Enara asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing," I said quickly. "Just talking to myself. It's the only intelligent conversation I get these days."

Ananara snickered, while Enara rolled her eyes and turned back toward the classroom doors. "Good luck, Liria. Try not to kill yourself with a hoe. Or do. Either way, it's entertainment for me."

Before I could think of a snappy comeback, the system helpfully added, [She's right. A hoe seems dangerous in your hands. Shall I recommend gloves? Or perhaps a full suit of armor?]

I trudged toward the groundskeeper's shed, which, unsurprisingly, was at the farthest corner of the Academy grounds. The path was lined with immaculately trimmed hedges, mocking me with their perfection.

When I finally arrived, a grizzled old demon with moss-green skin and a permanent scowl was waiting for me. He leaned against a rake like it was an extension of his soul, squinting at me as if I'd personally offended his ancestors.

"You the punishment girl?" he barked.

"Guilty as charged," I muttered.

"Hmph. You look useless," he said, thrusting a rusty pair of gardening shears into my hands.

"Wow, thanks," I said dryly. "Do I also get a gold star for effort?"

"No," he said flatly. "You get weeds. Lots of 'em."

Ananara snickered from my shoulder. "Finally, someone who sees you for what you really are."

"You can go in the compost bin," I hissed at him.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

[Careful, Liria. He might thrive there.]

I bit back a groan as the groundskeeper led me to my first task: a sprawling garden bed filled with flowers, shrubs, and the most obnoxious weeds I'd ever seen. Their roots seemed to laugh at me from beneath the soil, daring me to try.

"This'll keep you busy," the groundskeeper said, smirking. "And no magic. You burn a single leaf, and I'll tell the principal myself."

"No magic?!" I exclaimed. "What am I supposed to do, negotiate with the weeds?"

He ignored me and shuffled off, leaving me alone with my new arch-nemeses.

I knelt down, glaring at the nearest weed like it had personally insulted my family. "Alright, you little pest. Let's get this over with."

As I yanked at the root, it resisted like it was glued to the ground by some ancient curse. My hands slipped, and I fell backward with a loud thud.

Ananara cackled. "This is better than I imagined."

"You could help, you know," I snapped.

"I'm a pineapple, not a peasant," he said smugly.

[He's got a point,] the system added. [Though if you planted him, he might scare off the weeds with his personality alone.]

I groaned, picking myself up and glaring at the offending weed. "You think you're tough? You're nothing! I've survived Daena's lectures and Seraphis's wrath. You're just a plant!"

The weed didn't respond, obviously, but it felt like it was mocking me anyway.

Hours passed—or at least it felt like hours—and I'd barely made a dent in the garden. My hands were covered in dirt, my back ached, and my patience was nonexistent.

"You're terrible at this," Ananara said, lounging on a nearby rock like some kind of tropical overlord.

"Thanks for the encouragement," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

[You know, this would go faster if you had a better attitude,] the system offered.

"Oh, really? Should I thank the weeds for being so stubborn?"

[It wouldn't hurt.]

I was about to retort when the groundskeeper reappeared, his scowl even deeper than before. "What in the nine hells are you doing?"

"Gardening," I said innocently.

"Looks more like you're losing a fight with the dirt," he muttered, grabbing the shears from my hands and demonstrating the "correct" technique. "You do it like this, see? Not whatever that was."

"Got it," I said, gritting my teeth.

As he walked away, Ananara leaned closer. "He's right. You're embarrassing to watch."

"I swear," I muttered, "if I survive this week, I'm turning you into juice."

By the time the sun began to set, I was exhausted, filthy, and ready to collapse. The garden looked slightly less disastrous, but only slightly.

Ananara perched smugly on my shoulder, humming a tune that was probably meant to annoy me.

"So," he said, breaking the silence, "what have we learned today?"

"That I hate gardening," I replied.

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"And?"

"That I hate you even more."

He snickered. "Good. It builds character."

[Congratulations,] the system chimed in. [You survived your first day of punishment. Only six more to go!]

"Great," I muttered. "Can't wait."

As I trudged toward the Academy gates, trying not to collapse from exhaustion, a familiar voice pierced the evening air like a dagger laced with smugness.

"Well, well," Enara drawled, leaning casually against a sleek black carriage adorned with her family crest. "If it isn't the Academy's newest landscaping prodigy. How was your day among the weeds?"

I glared at her, my arms limp at my sides and my clothes caked with dirt. "Oh, it was lovely. Truly an enriching experience. I might even quit magic to become a full-time gardener."

Enara smirked. "A wise career choice, considering you've got the manual labor part down. You missed a spot, by the way." She gestured vaguely toward my face.

I wiped at my cheek, only to smear the dirt even further. Fantastic.

[On the bright side,] the system chimed in, [your endurance and strength just increased by one point each. Not that it'll help you pull off sarcasm with this much mud on your face.]

"Wonderful," I muttered under my breath. "I'm filthy, humiliated, and slightly stronger. Truly living the dream."

Enara raised an eyebrow. "Talking to yourself again? Maybe gardening does affect the mind."

I shot her a glare but lacked the energy to reply. Instead, I climbed into the carriage, sinking into the plush velvet seats with a groan.

"Careful," Enara said, wrinkling her nose as she climbed in beside me. "You'll get mud everywhere. The servants just cleaned this."

"Sorry, Princess," I said, slumping dramatically. "Next time, I'll make sure to bring a portable bath for your royal sensibilities."

She chuckled, clearly enjoying my misery. "You're hopeless."

"Hopeless and proud," I muttered, closing my eyes as the carriage rolled toward the castle.