Reincarnated as the Villainess's Unlucky Bodyguard-Chapter 219: Doubts

Azael paced the inner chamber, the shadows swirling around her like an extension of her own will. The flickering candles cast distorted shapes against the walls, dancing like fleeting memories of a time she no longer cared to remember. She was used to control, to the perfection of her own power. She had molded this world to her liking, bent its very fabric into submission. Nothing, not even Liria, was beyond her reach.

But today , something had unsettled her.

She halted suddenly, fingers brushing her chin thoughtfully. A faint pulse of frustration buzzed through her mind, and she turned her gaze toward the floor where Liria still lay motionless, her form hunched in submission. The flickering embers of Liria's magic pulsed faintly beneath the surface, a small, defiant whisper against the grip Azael had carefully woven into her.

For a moment, just a fleeting second, Liria had moved. She had breathed as though something had stirred inside her something that didn't belong to Azael. Azael had felt it like a tremor in the earth, faint but distinct. Something in Liria had slipped, a crack in the wall Azael had built around her.

Impossible.

She couldn't be breaking free. She couldn't. freeweɓnovēl.coɱ

Azael had spent years centuries perfecting this control. She had won. She was the one who held the strings, who pulled every movement with subtlety and precision. Liria was a puppet, nothing more. A puppet whose strings had been tied by the very hands of fate.

And yet…

Azael clenched her jaw. It wasn't a full break no, nothing that dramatic but she'd felt it. For a moment, Liria had been hers, fully hers, and then, like a wayward gust of wind, something had shifted. Something had broken free.

She turned to face the shattered wall of her private chamber, her hand flexing instinctively, the shadows at her command swirling restlessly. Her eyes glowed brighter, colder, as she turned the thought over in her mind. Was it possible that Liria could be… fighting back?

The idea gnawed at her like a slow poison. The sheer thought of Liria resisting was an affront, something Azael couldn't bear. Her fingers tightened into fists, and her body thrummed with a sudden, violent need to assert her control again, to crush any trace of defiance before it could grow. But, like every battle, she knew this one required subtlety. Power alone wouldn't be enough. She couldn't afford to expose her frustration her enemies would smell it like blood in the water.

She needed to be calm. Controlled.

But that damnable thought persisted What if she wasn't under my control anymore?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice cold, disinterested.

"Liria."

Azael turned sharply, her eyes narrowing as her gaze locked onto the figure who stood at the entrance to the chamber. A faint shimmer of light clung to the edges of the doorframe as her mother, the Grand Empress Saelira, walked in with the same quiet grace that she carried wherever she went.

Saelira's presence was a quiet storm a being who radiated power with every step, an effortless elegance that could break worlds if she desired. Her eyes, violet and sharp, took in Azael's agitated state in an instant. The faintest flicker of amusement danced in her gaze, but it wasn't one of mockery. It was the kind of look that said, I see through you.

"Your thoughts are loud, daughter," Saelira remarked, her voice like silk stretched taut over steel. She gestured toward Liria's unmoving form. "What troubles you?"

Azael's lip curled, a thin smile of irritation tugging at the edges of her mouth. "Liria."

"Ah," Saelira said softly, her eyes narrowing with understanding. "She stirred, didn't she?"

"She moved," Azael hissed, frustration creeping into her voice. "For a moment, I thought I felt—" She clenched her fists again, the shadows around her writhing like restless serpents. "I thought she broke free."

Saelira studied her for a moment longer before taking a slow step forward. "Do you doubt your control?"

Azael's face twisted into something almost feral. "I don't doubt my control."

Saelira raised an eyebrow, her gaze drifting to the floor where Liria lay, unmoving once more. "Then why do I sense doubt in you?"

Azael's fingers twitched at her sides. Her mother's words cut deeper than she would ever admit aloud. She had always been the one to advise Azael on matters of control of power teaching her how to manage the fine threads of manipulation that governed not just magic, but souls.

"No one," Azael began, her voice low and tense, "no one resists me."

"Not even your precious Liria?" Saelira asked, amusement flickering in her eyes. "Tell me, how long has she been yours, Azael?"

Azael turned sharply toward her mother, a flicker of warning in her gaze. "She is mine. She has always been mine."

Saelira was quiet for a moment, observing her daughter's reaction closely. When she spoke again, her tone was softer, almost thoughtful.

"There is something you're not seeing," she said gently. "Perhaps Liria's control over herself was never as complete as you believed."

Azael froze. "What are you suggesting?"

"I am suggesting," Saelira said slowly, "that the girl might still have a sliver of herself intact. A fragment of her own mind, a refusal to surrender entirely. I've seen it in the way she looks at you. It's subtle, almost imperceptible but it's there."

Azael's stomach turned. "You're wrong."

"No," Saelira replied, her voice almost tender now. "I am right. You've spent so much time tying her down, you've forgotten that she might still be fighting back. Even when you think she's fully broken, she's still a threat."

Azael's breath came quicker now, frustration and confusion churning within her. She had never allowed herself to consider the possibility that Liria could break free. She had bound her with every magic, every curse, every psychological thread she knew. Yet now… now her mother's words lingered, gnawing at the edges of her certainty.

"I'll fix it," Azael muttered, turning her back on her mother. "I'll make her obey again."

Saelira stepped forward, placing a hand on Azael's shoulder a simple gesture, but one that felt weightier than the world itself. "You've broken her before, yes. But this time…" She let her voice trail off, her grip tightening. "This time, you must break yourself to keep her."

Azael stilled, a strange chill crawling up her spine. "What are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting that perhaps," Saelira said softly, "you've already lost more of yourself than you've gained."

The words pierced Azael deeper than she was willing to admit.

Her mother had always been a master of manipulation. But now, her words were a challenge, a riddle. Azael had always known what to expect from Liria's resistance her rebellion. But this… this was something new. Something unpredictable.

She could feel it in the air, a shifting tension, an underlying current that said just beneath the surface there was something else brewing.

"You're mistaken," Azael said finally, her voice cold, though it trembled just slightly. "No one resists me."

"But you can't always control what's already inside, Azael," Saelira replied, her voice cutting through the tension like a razor. "You're not the only one capable of manipulation."

Azael turned sharply, her eyes flashing. "I am the only one who manipulates her."

But even as she said the words, doubt lingered. Her control over Liria was slipping—just a little. And that made her dangerous. The uncertainty crawled under her skin, burrowing into her mind like an itch she couldn't scratch.

"I'll handle it," Azael repeated, this time more to herself than to her mother. "No one will get in my way."

As she spoke, the darkness around her thickened, swirling in a storm of shadows. Her power surged, crackling like a storm about to break. She would tighten her grip. She would remake Liria, force her to obey once more.

Because Liria was hers. She had to be.

"Do not doubt me," Azael added quietly, more to herself than anyone else, her voice tightening as she felt the weight of her words settle.

Saelira's gaze softened. "I do not doubt you, daughter. I doubt the game you're playing."

Azael ignored the disquiet creeping into her chest. She wasn't losing control. She wasn't. She was just… testing the limits.

She turned her back to her mother, the shadows at her feet growing thicker, darker. "I'll see to it."

As the chamber doors closed behind her, Azael let out a slow breath, willing herself back into the calm she knew so well. But even as she did, her mind returned to Liria her lost prize. The girl she had broken.

Or so she thought.

I'll fix it, she told herself again. I'll break her completely.

But the doubt lingered. Just out of reach, like a whisper in the dark.

And that was the last thing Azael would ever admit.