I Am The Villainess Who Will Tame Every Yandere Heroine!-Chapter 41: A Little Bit of Trolling

The village was in chaos, but Serafine? She was having the time of her life.

Her Mask of Light had leveled up—no, evolved—into something far more ridiculous and delightful than before. No longer was she confined to merely stealing faces like some discount theater performer. No, now she could absorb entire bodies, right down to the sagging skin, the brittle joints, and the arthritic rage that came with old age.

A true masterpiece of mimicry, allowing her to slip into another's existence as if trying on a new outfit, except this outfit came with a bad back and the unshakable urge to complain about "kids these days."

Naturally, her first test subject had been none other than Granny Elspeth.

A legendary figure in the village, Granny Elspeth had spent her final years terrorizing children, smacking unsuspecting fools with her cane, and dispensing unsolicited life advice with the unwavering authority of someone who had survived at least three plagues and outlived most of her enemies.

Her death had been mourned, but Serafine had taken one look at the situation and thought:

Did she mourn?

Not really.

Did she see an opportunity?

Absolutely.

So here she stood, disguised as Granny Elspeth—wrinkled face, hunched posture, but with all of her abilities intact. Her disciples, however, were far less amused.

"L-Lady Savior?" Calix stammered, staring at the familiar-yet-not-so-familiar elderly woman before him. "Why do you look like that?"

Clara, looking horrified, pointed an accusing finger. "You—You STOLE an old woman's body?!"

Serafine, still adjusting to the new form, waved a frail hand dismissively. "Borrowed, dear. She wasn't using it anymore."

Mariella, who had long since stopped expecting normalcy from her saintess, crossed her arms and groaned. "Of course you did."

Serafine ignored them. This was going to be fun.

The moment she saw Harold basking in his own self-importance, her mischief instincts kicked into full throttle.

And so, hobbling forward like the world's most deceptively powerful granny, she made her move.

Harold, still gloating in front of his men, barely noticed the slow-moving figure approaching.

That is, until she spoke.

"Young man," Serafine's voice wobbled like a frail old woman's, but carried undeniable authority, "what in Aurelia's name are you doing, acting like some thug in my village?"

Harold turned, already annoyed. But when his eyes landed on the fragile-looking old lady standing before him, he scoffed.

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"You should be bowing, old hag, not running your mouth—"

SLAP!

The air cracked.

Harold's head snapped to the side.

The entire village gasped.

Serafine stood there, hunched and shaking slightly—whether from old age or righteous fury, none could tell.

"What did you just say to me, you disrespectful brat?" Her voice quivered with just the right mix of indignation and elder rage.

Harold, utterly stunned, pressed a hand to his now-burning cheek. "D-Did you just slap me—"

WHACK!

This time, she struck him upside the head, sending his ponytail flying in the wind.

"I asked you a question, boy!"

The villagers were dead silent. Harold's men? They were too busy processing the fact that their mighty leader was currently getting disciplined by a hunched, fragile-looking granny.

Harold's face burned, not just from the slaps but from sheer humiliation. "You—You're DEAD, YOU OLD WITCH!"

With a furious yell, he lunged forward, summoning his Ethos—only for Serafine to casually step to the side, causing him to trip over her cane.

He tumbled, face-first, into the dirt.

The silence was deafening.

And then Serafine, ever the gracious elder, tsk-ed in disappointment.

"Young people these days… No discipline! No manners!"

She reached down and, in a move that defied all expectations, grabbed Harold by the ear and yanked.

"OW-OW-OW-OW-OW!!!"

The once-mighty warrior squealed like a child caught stealing candy.

"I CAN'T HEAR YOU!" Serafine barked, dragging him around like a misbehaving toddler.

"L-LET GO, YOU OLD BAT!"

"WHAT WAS THAT?" YANK.

"I-I MEAN, RESPECTABLE ELDER—PLEASE, LET GO—OWWWW!!"

The villagers lost it. Some covered their mouths in shock, others had to turn away to stifle laughter.

Calix, Mariella, and Clara? They looked two seconds away from passing out.

And then, because Serafine never did anything halfway—

SPANK!

Harold let out the most undignified yelp as a powerful smack landed on his armored backside.

The man scrambled forward, red-faced and panicking. "WHAT THE—?!"

Serafine, eyes gleaming with malice, cracked her knuckles. "Now, now, child, don't run. You need to learn some respect."

Harold did try to fight back—he really did.

But every time he swung his sword, Serafine would expertly dodge in the most ridiculous ways possible.

At one point, she accidentally (on purpose) tripped herself, but somehow backflipped over Harold's attack, landing gracefully on her feet.

Harold's face twisted in confusion.

"What—WHAT KIND OF GRANNY MOVES LIKE THAT?!"

Serafine wobbled her head, looking dazed. "Oh dear… Was that my Ethos? I really don't know how to use this thing properly…"

She raised her hand—and blasted Harold in the face with a bright beam of light.

The impact sent him flying backward, landing in a heap of broken dignity.

Mariella stared. "She's embarrassing him on purpose."

Clara nodded solemnly. "This is… true vengeance."

Calix, meanwhile, was praying for Harold's soul.

Harold groaned, weakly pushing himself up. "Y-You… y-you…" His face was completely red. Not from anger—but sheer, unfiltered shame.

Serafine, still in granny form, loomed over him.

"Now, young man…" she cooed, voice suddenly much sweeter. "Do you understand why you shouldn't be causing trouble in my village?"

Harold nodded frantically.

"And do you promise to be a good boy and leave us alone?"

Another rapid nod.

"Good, good." Serafine beamed. Then her expression darkened. "Because if you don't…" She leaned down, whispering ominously, "I will make sure your father hears about everything you've been doing behind his back."

Harold paled. "Y-You wouldn't."

Serafine smiled.

"I would."

Harold scrambled up so fast it was almost impressive. "I-I'LL TELL MY FATHER ABOUT THIS!"

Serafine clapped her hands together. "Oh, you do that, dear."

With a shriek of frustration, Harold bolted, his men hesitating before awkwardly following.

The second they left, the entire village erupted in cheers.

Serafine dusted off her wrinkled hands and turned back to her disciples, still disguised as a granny. "See? No problem at all."

Calix blinked. "…Please never do that again."

But just as Serafine was about to make another witty remark, her eyes flickered to the crowd.

There, standing at a distance, was a lone man.

Unlike the others, he hadn't cheered. Hadn't reacted.

He simply watched.

Serafine's grin faded slightly.

Who was he?

Something about him felt… off.

And for the first time all day, she felt the tiniest prickle of unease.