Transmigrated as the Villainess Princess - Chapter 190

Chapter 190: The Little Things
I hope she’ll shine brighter.

Archinsyne never asked for anything in return. He never sought acknowledgment or gratitude. Whether Ahcehera noticed or not was irrelevant to him.

What mattered was that she never lacked anything she needed, that her path was smooth, that her burdens, whether she realized it or not, were shared by someone else, even if only in the smallest ways.

When she worked late into the night, poring over strategies and reports in her quarters, he made sure a warm cup of nutrient-infused tea was left on her desk.

She never questioned where it came from, only that it was always there, exactly when she needed it.

He learned which flavors she favored, subtle but rich, fragrant but not overpowering.

She never commented on it, never acknowledged the way the tea was always at the perfect temperature, but she drank every drop. That was enough for him.

In the battlefield, he was the first to step forward when she gave out commands, executing them without hesitation.

He moved through the ranks with precision, ensuring that no harm ever reached her. If an enemy took aim, the threat was gone before it even registered in her mind.

If a decision weighed on her shoulders, he had already seen to the preparations, ensuring that whatever she needed was ready before she asked.

She never had to tell him twice, sometimes, she did not even have to tell him at all.

During meetings, when her attention was occupied by leaders from across the galaxies, Archinsyne remained silent in the background, observing the way her mind worked.

He ensured that documents were arranged in the order she preferred, that the lights were adjusted so they would not strain her eyes, that the temperature in the room remained comfortable.

If she reached for something, a pen, a datapad, a glass of water, he ensured it was within her grasp before she even had to look for it.

She never noticed. She never looked at him twice, never questioned how seamlessly everything fell into place. And he did not mind.

When the missions were grueling and exhaustion weighed on her shoulders, he kept watch over her as she slept, ensuring that no disturbance would wake her.

He adjusted the covers when they slipped off her, kept the flames of the heater steady during colder nights, and silenced any interruptions before they could reach her door.

If she stirred in her sleep, uneasy from the burdens she carried, his presence alone ensured that no harm would come to her in those vulnerable moments. She did not need to know.

The moment she stepped onto the battlefield, he was already at her side, shadowing her every move without being intrusive.

When her weapons dulled from overuse, a freshly sharpened one was always within her reach. When her energy ran thin, he had already secured reinforcements.

He saw the way she pushed herself beyond her limits, the way she carried the weight of the world without faltering. And so he carried whatever pieces of that burden he could.

When an explosion in the west quadrant left debris raining down on their unit, he pulled her out of harm’s way before she could even register the danger.

The world slowed as he wrapped his arms around her, shielding her from the impact.

She did not flinch, did not react beyond a brief glance in his direction, as if she expected nothing less.

She stepped away, dusted off her uniform, and resumed giving orders. He said nothing.

On the rare occasions she allowed herself a moment of respite, when the night stretched long and the battles had ended, he lingered in the shadows, making sure the silence around her was undisturbed.

He never crossed a boundary, never imposed, but he was always there.

When she stared into the distance, lost in thought, he simply waited, knowing that whatever weighed on her mind would pass in its own time.

She did not need to know how much of his life revolved around ensuring hers remained steady.

She did not need to see the way he memorized the smallest details about her, the way her fingers drummed lightly against her arm when deep in thought, the way she adjusted her posture when making difficult decisions, the way her eyes flickered with unspoken emotions when she thought no one was looking.

She did not need to know how much he admired her. How much he had come to care. If she noticed at all, she never spoke of it.

Perhaps she truly did not see. Perhaps he was just another soldier in her eyes, another name among the ranks. But even if that was the case, it did not change anything.

He would continue doing the little things, the unnoticed things, the things that made no difference to anyone but him. Because it was enough. It had to be.

There was no glory in what Archinsyne did. No recognition, no grand gestures, no expectation of reward.

It was in the smallest of things, in the most insignificant details, where his devotion revealed itself.

It was in the way he ensured her uniform was never left damp from the rain, the way he adjusted the settings on her tactical visor before handing it to her so it would not strain her eyes, the way he stood between her and the biting wind when they traveled across frozen wastelands.

He was always there. He did not need words. His actions spoke louder than anything he could ever say.

When she was deep in battle, he was at her flank. When she was too focused on the mission to eat, a meal was waiting for her at the precise moment hunger would start creeping in.

When exhaustion dulled her usually sharp movements, he adjusted their formation so she had a fraction of a second longer to recover. And yet, Ahcehera remained oblivious.

It was not because she was ungrateful or dismissive. She was simply too used to bearing everything alone. Too used to fighting without relying on anyone. So she did not see.

She did not see the way Archinsyne’s gaze lingered when she turned away. She did not see the silent devotion etched into every action, every choice, every decision he made.

And still, he did not mind. Because he would follow her regardless.