I, The Villainess, Will Seduce All The Heroines Instead
Chapter 156: The Trial (15)

Chapter 156: The Trial (15)

[Editing]

Silence.

Warm, painless, too perfect.

When Verena opened her eyes, she was no longer in the labyrinth, nor beside Vivienne or Isolde. Instead, she lay in a field of soft, silver grass beneath an unmoving sky. The stars above didn’t twinkle. They just... watched. Frozen. Like tiny judgmental eyes refusing to blink.

She sat up—or tried to. Her body responded slowly, like her limbs were submerged in honey. No walls, no monsters, no sound of crackling torches or Isolde’s snark. Just stillness. Absolute, suffocating stillness.

"Where... am I?"

The words came out muted. As if the air didn’t want to carry sound too far, lest it disturb the serenity of this place.

Then she remembered. The flash of fangs made of shadow. The moment she was swallowed. Not whole—but still. That thing hadn’t eaten her flesh.

It had devoured her drive.

"Somnioris," she whispered, and the world shimmered at the name. A Zodiac Beast. Pisces-aligned. A creature that feasted on ambition, cocooning people in their own comforts until they forgot how to want.

In the distance, she saw movement.

A familiar silhouette. A woman with short hair, battle-worn armor, and a face twisted in quiet defeat. Verena squinted.

It was her. Or... a version of her.

The figure sat beneath a starless tree, gazing at the sky as if waiting for something that would never come.

"You tried. You really did," the copy murmured without looking at her. "But no one listens. They never really care. You give your best, and then you burn out. Again. And again. And again."

Verena’s fists clenched. "No. That’s not true. I—"

"You’re tired." Another voice joined in. Another version of her appeared to the left—dressed not in armor but in office clothes, her hair pulled into a neat bun. "You always pretend you’re fine. But you hate waking up. You hate pretending you have energy. Wouldn’t it be better to rest?"

Verena stepped back.

More of them appeared. Versions of her at different ages. Different roles. Different regrets.

"You wanted to be needed... and you were."

"You wanted love... and you lost it."

"You wanted purpose... and you drowned in it."

"Stay," they all said. "It’s easier."

And for a moment, she almost believed them.

The silver grass tickled her legs. The air was so calm. And really, who would notice if she just... stopped trying for a little while?

But then—

A sudden flicker.

Warm. Familiar. Irritating.

A vision of Evelyn, stuttering her way through a heartfelt thanks after being saved. Of Vivienne, clinging to her sleeve with that dopey smile, promising her a lap pillow. Of Isolde, huffing and puffing in righteous jealousy because Verena dared to save someone else for once.

And in her chest, the weight of their hopes. Of their futures. Of the stupid, frustrating, beautiful chaos they brought with them.

Verena inhaled.

"No."

The garden trembled.

"I’m not done yet."

The copies froze.

Verena stood. The air thickened. Her shadow stretched and morphed into armor. The stars above flickered like waking from a long sleep.

"You can’t trap me in this comfort," she hissed, her voice steady now. "I don’t need peace. I need progress."

A howl echoed across the skies. The ground split open beneath her feet. A swirl of darkness began to churn where the grass once was, and a familiar pair of luminous, serpent-like eyes blinked open in the abyss.

Somnioris had noticed her again.

Its mouth opened—not to swallow her, but to reclaim her. She had dared to break the stillness. To stir motion.

"Verena!" A faint voice pierced the dreamscape.

Vivienne?

"Come back!"

A thread of starlight shot down, wrapping around Verena’s wrist.

She smirked. "Took you long enough."

And with a running leap, she dived straight into the beast’s eye, gripping the light like a lifeline. The entire dream shattered around her like glass—stars bleeding out, the garden twisting into a void.

Verena screamed.

Fell.

And then—

Light.

Air.

A gasp.

She awoke in Vivienne’s arms, drenched in sweat, her body aching from a stillness far too deep. The girl’s teary-eyed face hovered above her, panicked but relieved.

"You were gone for hours... I thought I lost you..."

Verena groaned, wiping her face. "I just had the worst nap of my life."

Then paused.

"And maybe the most important one."

Vivienne wouldn’t stop crying.

Not loud, ugly sobbing—Verena honestly wouldn’t know what to do with that—but the quiet, persistent kind. Like a faucet someone forgot to turn off. Her trembling fingers were still cupping Verena’s cheeks, eyes wide in disbelief, as if the moment she blinked, Verena would disappear again.

"You’re here," she whispered, as if she needed confirmation from reality.

"Yeah, I’m here," Verena rasped, wincing as she slowly sat up. "No thanks to that cosmic tapeworm."

Isolde leaned against the wall nearby, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently. Her brows furrowed in a way that was definitely not worried, thank you very much. "Took you long enough. You were snoring like a boar in hibernation."

"I wasn’t snoring," Verena grumbled.

"You absolutely were," Isolde and Vivienne said in unison.

They blinked at each other. Vivienne smiled faintly. Isolde scowled, betrayed by her own accidental synchronization.

Verena ran a hand through her hair. The chill of the dreamscape still lingered in her bones. She remembered it too clearly—the copy of herself whispering old truths she didn’t want to hear. The aching comfort. The lure of rest. It hadn’t been a monster made of claws and teeth, but it had almost devoured her all the same.

"Somnioris," she muttered aloud. "It traps you in a state of stillness. Makes you feel safe... like you don’t have to keep going."

Isolde raised a brow. "Sounds like my worst nightmare."

"Exactly," Verena murmured. "And my dream."

There was a pause.

Then Vivienne, still clutching her hand, softly asked, "What pulled you back?"

Verena glanced at her.

You.

And you.

And that other idiot too.

But all she said was, "You wouldn’t shut up."

Vivienne’s cheeks flushed, lips wobbling into a tiny pout. "You mean my voice broke the spell?"

"Like an alarm clock," Verena smirked, giving her shoulder a pat. "Annoying. Inescapable. Weirdly effective."

Vivienne sniffled, but the smile returned. "I’ll take that as a compliment."

Isolde rolled her eyes so hard they almost fell out. "Great. Our strongest member was just nearly undone by a magical nap. What’s next? Trial Three is a pillow fight?"

"Don’t jinx it," Verena muttered. "I’ve had enough of pillows for a lifetime."

She stood slowly, her legs still shaky, but her mind sharper than ever. Something had shifted. She’d looked into the void—and it looked like her. It was her fears, her regrets, her exhaustion wearing her own face. But she wasn’t alone in the dark anymore.

She had people. Friends.

Annoying, clingy, ridiculously dramatic people—but people nonetheless.

And they were waiting for her to keep going.

"Let’s move," she said. "I don’t want to be late for our next scheduled trauma."

"Trial Three, huh?" Isolde’s tone turned razor-sharp with excitement. "Finally. A real fight."

"You say that every time," Verena muttered.

"Because I mean it every time."

Vivienne dusted herself off and nodded, sticking close to Verena’s side. "I’ll be here. Even if I’m not strong. Even if I’m just in the way sometimes."

Verena raised a brow. "Sometimes?"

"Shush," Vivienne pouted again.

But Verena didn’t pull away.

She let her stay close.

They passed through the gates into the corridor leading to Trial Three, the shadows parting like curtains as they walked. Something in the air had changed. The Labyrinth had noticed Verena’s resistance—her refusal to stay still, to sleep forever—and now, it was watching her with renewed interest.

Let it watch.

She wasn’t afraid of being seen anymore.

Let it throw its beasts and its tricks and its illusions.

She wasn’t alone.

Verena smirked. "Alright, Zodiac freakshow. Let’s see what else you’ve got."

Isolde cracked her knuckles. "Now that’s the Verena I like to see."

Vivienne just smiled.

And together, they stepped into whatever chaos came next.

The corridor leading to Trial Three pulsed with shifting hues—deep violets and ominous blues, like the inside of a bruise that had never healed. The air grew thick, almost syrupy, and with every step, the floor beneath them shimmered like glass suspended over an ocean of stars.

Vivienne clutched Verena’s sleeve tightly, clearly unsettled by the warped atmosphere. "I feel like we’re walking straight into a painting. A creepy one."

"It’s probably abstract symbolism," Verena muttered. "This place loves metaphors more than a philosophy student on too much caffeine."

Isolde snorted. "Or maybe it’s just trying to look fancy before it kills us."

A sudden tremor rippled through the corridor. The shimmering glass floor cracked beneath their feet—but didn’t break. Instead, it rippled outward like disturbed water.

A voice echoed, distant and theatrical. "Welcome to the Trial of Reflection. Here, you will face the version of yourself that you fear the most."

Isolde groaned. "Ugh. Another existential one? Can’t we just punch something?!"

Verena’s expression darkened slightly. This wasn’t just a trial. It was personal. The Labyrinth knew how to dig into the softest parts, the places she’d rather keep locked away. Still, she squared her shoulders.

"Let’s get this over with."

Vivienne’s grip tightened. "Whatever happens... I’ve got your back."

Verena glanced at her, then at Isolde—who was already rolling her eyes but still standing close.

Maybe the reflection wouldn’t be so scary this time.

Because now, she wasn’t looking into the mirror alone.

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