Too Lazy to be a Villainess - Chapter 298

Chapter 298: The Coronation Blaze
[Lavinia’s POV — Everheart Estate, Grand Hall]

“ANNOUNCING HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY, THE EMPEROR — ACCOMPANIED BY HER HIGHNESS, THE CROWN PRINCESS!”

The doors of the Everheart Estate opened with a sound like thunder wrapped in silk.

As we stepped forward, the sea of nobles parted, bowing low in perfect unison. The symphony paused; even the chandeliers seemed to hush as the announcement echoed.

A thousand golden flames shimmered from the chandeliers above, scattering across the marble floor like stardust. The scent of lilies, gold dust, and polished wood mingled in the air—rich, regal, and suffocatingly perfect.

Every head bent lower. Silk whispered, jewels chimed, and I could practically feel the weight of every gaze following us.

Papa’s arm was steady as he guided me forward, his presence solid and towering beside me. I peeked up at him, and as expected, he was shooting death glares left and right like a general inspecting enemy ranks.

I bit back a laugh and whispered under my breath, “You know, Papa… I’m starting to envy Osric. When do I get my coronation crown?”

His lips twitched—the faintest, most imperial smirk. “Patience, my little menace. Every heir’s coronation happens after they turn twenty-two. You’re only eighteen. You still have years to prove yourself… and,” he added slyly, “a few more years to laze around before your dreams are replaced by endless paperwork.”

I huffed a quiet laugh. “So basically, you’re telling me to enjoy freedom while I still can?”

“Exactly,” he murmured, eyes glinting with amusement. “Enjoy it, My dear. Once the crown sits on your head, even your sighs will be scheduled.”

I smiled faintly, looking ahead at the glittering hall and the hundreds of eyes watching. “I’ll hold you responsible when that happens.”

He chuckled under his breath. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

At the end of the carpet, two figures stepped forward—Grand Duke Regis Everheart and Osric. Both bowed low.

“Your Majesty, Your Highness,” Regis said with a polished smile. “It’s an honor to welcome the Empire’s sun and moon to our humble estate.”

Papa gave a slow, unimpressed cough. “I was forced to come.”

The room froze for a beat.

Regis’s smile twitched, just slightly. “And yet, you came,” he said smoothly. “That alone makes me happy—to have you here, witnessing the future of our children together.”

Papa’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Future, yes. Present, no.”

I blinked, stifling a laugh as Regis turned to me, trying to salvage the atmosphere. “You look beautiful today, my dear—”

“She’s not your dear,” Papa cut in sharply, his voice a blade wrapped in velvet.

Regis glanced at him, equally polite and equally suicidal. “But I’m going to be her father soon, am I not?”

Papa’s smile was the kind that could make seasoned generals faint. “Soon,” he said softly. “Not. Yet.”

The tension between them could’ve shattered glass.

Meanwhile, I stood there smiling sweetly, utterly used to this ritual of male ego warfare. “You two do realize,” I murmured just loud enough for them to hear, “the ceremony hasn’t even started and you’re already competing for a future relationship?”

Osric, standing beside his father, let out the faintest sigh—the look of a man accustomed to chaos. “It’s best not to intervene, Your Highness,” he whispered wryly. “They’ve been at this since before I could walk.”

I leaned toward him just a little. “And you survived?”

“Barely,” he said, lips twitching.

Papa gave Osric a look sharp enough to decapitate a lesser man. “Something funny, boy?”

Osric straightened instantly. “Not at all, Your Majesty.”

“Good,” Papa said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Because I’m still deciding if I like you.”

I sighed softly, but I couldn’t stop the amused smile tugging at my lips. This was my father—Emperor Cassius Devereux—conqueror of empires, bane of dukes, and apparently the most possessive man alive when it came to his daughter.

Osric straightened his uniform—a crisp black coat trimmed in Everheart silver—and stepped closer, his expression composed but his eyes holding a quiet warmth.

“Your Highness,” he said, bowing slightly. “May I have the honor of escorting you to your seat?”

Before I could answer, Papa’s hand tightened on my shoulder again.

“Honor?” he repeated, in that low, dangerous tone that made generals beg for mercy. “You’re talking as if she’s some stranger at a ball, boy. She’s the Crown Princess of the Empire.”

Osric met his gaze calmly—brave soul that he was. “And precisely for that reason, Your Majesty, she deserves to be treated with the utmost honor.”

Papa’s jaw flexed, clearly torn between approving the respect and despising the source of it. “Hmph,” he muttered finally. “If you step on her gown, I’ll have your head.”

“Papa,” I sighed.

Osric extended his arm toward me, eyes steady—waiting patiently, not forcing, not pleading. I placed my hand lightly on his arm.

His arm was warm and steady—too steady, perhaps. For a moment, I thought I saw the faintest smile curve his lips, a flicker quickly smothered beneath the noble composure he is currently maintaining.

Papa’s glare, however, could’ve melted the chandeliers above us.

“Careful,” he said in a tone that could chill sunlight itself. “You’re holding my daughter’s hand, not a ceremonial flag.”

Osric inclined his head, completely unfazed. “Then I shall guard it with the same loyalty I give the Empire, Your Majesty.”

That earned a faint raise of Papa’s brow—the smallest sign of reluctant respect.

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. “Can we proceed before the chandeliers catch fire?”

Osric chuckled softly, the sound low and controlled. “Let’s go, Your Highness.”

I nodded, but before following him, I turned slightly toward Sir Haldor, who stood a few steps behind, vigilant as ever. “You can relax and enjoy yourself tonight, Sir Haldor,” I said with a grin.

He bowed faintly. “I hope you enjoy the event, Your Highness.”

I nodded and stepped forward, my arm brushing against Osric’s as we walked through the golden aisle. The chandeliers glimmered above, and nobles whispered like rustling silk.

Osric leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t realize that man was Sir Haldor. The legendary ‘Steel Knight’ himself.”

I smiled, keeping my eyes ahead. “Mm. He looks very handsome, doesn’t he?”

He stopped for half a step—just enough for me to catch the flicker of jealousy in his jaw. “Is that your subtle way of making me jealous, Lavi?”

I tilted my head, biting back a laugh. “Maybe. I’ve always been curious how my man looks when he’s jealous.”

He exhaled through his nose, the corner of his lips twitching. “Dangerous, apparently.”

“Oh? Then I suppose I should tread carefully,” I teased.

He looked at me then, his eyes soft but burning with that quiet Everheart pride. “Or perhaps,” he said smoothly, “you should stay close enough that I don’t have to be.”

Before I could respond, we reached the grand dais, and the hall fell silent.

I drew in a slow breath, fixing my posture, the playfulness fading as the weight of the moment settled over me. Osric released my hand and took his place.

And just like that, the ceremony began—the murmurs stilled, the air shimmering with reverence and history.

Grand Duke Regis Everheart stepped forward, his heavy ceremonial robe trailing behind him like liquid gold. The light from the chandeliers glimmered on the crest of the Everheart sigil stitched across his chest. His expression carried the calm dignity of a man who had ruled for decades—and the faint tremor of one finally ready to let go.

He raised his hand, and the hall fell silent. Even the music seemed to bow before his voice.

“Thank you all,” Regis began, his tone smooth yet resonant, filling every corner of the grand hall. “For standing witness to this day—a day that marks not only celebration, but legacy.”

He paused, glancing briefly at my father, whose expression could have frozen molten steel.

“As you all know,” Regis continued, “just as my father once passed his title and duty to me, the moment has now come for me to do the same. To place my trust, my honor, and the name of Everheart in the hands of my son.”

He turned toward Osric, who stood proudly at the center of the dais, the flickering light from the torches gilding his hair.

“From this day forth,” Regis declared, his voice rising, “I step down from my position and announce my son, Osric Everheart, as the Grand Duke of the Elorian Empire!”

Applause erupted—thunderous, echoing against the marble and high-arched ceiling. Nobles stood, their jeweled hands coming together, cheers mingling with the triumphant notes of the royal anthem.

I clapped too, though slower, watching Osric rise to his feet—taller somehow, his usual warmth tempered by the weight of power now settling on his shoulders.

Regis turned, his smile wide and glinting like a polished blade. “But,” he said, voice rising above the cheers, “this evening is not only to celebrate my son taking over my position.”

A murmur rippled through the hall. The nobles exchanged curious glances, fans paused mid-wave, and jewels flickered under the candlelight.

“Tonight,” Regis continued smoothly, “marks another moment in history. A moment that will—”

He didn’t finish.

Because I saw it.

Across the hall, beyond the nobles and courtiers and silver trays—my eyes caught on something that froze the blood in my veins.

Sir Haldor.

The ever-composed, stoic Captain of the Imperial Knights—standing beside a table, holding a crystal decanter, pouring wine for a laughing noblewoman like some common attendant.

For a second, my mind refused to process it. Then the heat hit me—sharp, furious, unrelenting.

Before anyone could blink, I was already off the dais. My gown swept behind me like a streak of flame as I stormed down the steps, ignoring the startled gasps and Regis’s startled pause mid-sentence.

“WHAT—” My voice cracked like thunder through the hall. “—IN THE WORLD IS GOING ON THERE?”

The music faltered. The laughter died. Every noble in the room froze where they stood.

How dare anyone—anyone—reduce the Captain of my Imperial Knights to a servant? How dare they humiliate him under my watch?

The flames of the chandeliers flickered as if the air itself trembled with my rage.