The Villainess Enjoys Her Seventh Life as a Free-Spirited Bride (hostage) in a Former Enemy Country

Rishe stood under the soft morning sun, the sword Arnold had gifted her now securely strapped at her side. Although it wasn’t perfectly suited to her size, she wore it with unmistakable pride. Each step she took echoed the subtle weight of its presence—a reminder not only of her past as a knight but also of the man who’d given it to her.

Curiosity sparked in the palace guards’ eyes as they spotted her walking into the training courtyard. Rishe didn’t often visit the knight training grounds anymore, but today… something in her heart longed for the comfort of a sword in her hand.

She drew the black-bladed sword slowly, admiring its reflection beneath the light.

"Still too long for me… but it feels different now," she whispered.

Taking her stance, she began practicing a series of forms she had mastered in her third life. Every motion was fluid, graceful, but firm. The watching knights paused, captivated. Rishe, absorbed in her flow, didn’t notice the man leaning against a pillar in the shade.

Arnold watched silently, arms folded.

Her footwork was deliberate, elegant. Her expression—a serene mixture of nostalgia and confidence—was unlike anything he had seen in her before.

As she completed a particularly difficult combination and sheathed the blade, Arnold stepped forward.

“You’ve been trained,” he said.

Rishe blinked in surprise. “Oh… were you watching?”

“Yes,” he said, tone unreadable. “That style… is not from Garkhain.”

Rishe chuckled softly, “No, it’s not. It’s from a kingdom long gone. One of my former lives.”

Arnold tilted his head. “You’ve really lived that many?”

“I have,” she said, smiling faintly. “And I’ve died just as many.”

They stood in silence for a while. The chirping of distant birds filled the space between them.

Finally, Arnold asked, “Do you miss it? That life?”

Rishe turned her gaze toward the horizon. “Sometimes. But more than missing a past life, I think I cherish this one the most.”

Arnold looked at her curiously.

“Because in this life, I’m not running from death or chasing glory,” she said. “I’m learning how to live. With people who… matter to me.”

His eyes softened for a fleeting moment.

Then he said, “If that’s the case, I suppose I’ll have to make sure you continue to live it… for a long time.”

Rishe blinked, then laughed. “That sounds like a proposal of protection.”

He smirked. “Take it however you like.”

She shook her head playfully, but the warmth in her chest lingered.

As they left the courtyard together, the sword at her side felt even lighter—no longer just a weapon, but a bond. A promise.