Too Lazy to be a Villainess - Chapter 327

Chapter 327: The Knight Who Touched Her Soul
[Lavinia’s POV—Red Wall Castle—War Room—Continuation]

The war room was silent again.

The maps lay open. The ink on my stamp was still drying. And Haldor Vaelthorn stood before me—straight-backed, composed, and unreadable as always.

But not completely unreadable… Not anymore.

I leaned my cheek against my palm, studying him. The flicker of emotion last night… the crack in his voice… the hug he’d given without thinking… they lingered in the air between us like something unfinished.

“Sir Haldor,” I began slowly, “may I ask you something?”

He stiffened slightly but bowed his head. “Yes, Your Highness.”

I folded my hands on the table. “I’d like to know a little about you.”

The reaction was immediate.

A flicker—shock, fear, something hidden—crossed his eyes before he shuttered them. Just like that, the warmth disappeared, replaced by a blankness so perfect it almost hurt to see.

His shoulders lowered a fraction.

“…There is nothing about me worth knowing,” he said.

A lie.

A heavy one.

His voice always had weight, but this time… it carried pain. And how could he even say that?

How could a man like him—disciplined, loyal, unwavering, a shield made of flesh and devotion—think he had no worth?

My chest tightened.

“Sir Haldor…” I said quietly.

His head bowed slightly. “Yes, Your Highness?”

“You are worth… everything,” I whispered. “Why make yourself small when you were born to stand tall?”

His face changed—not dramatically, but subtly, beautifully. The tension eased. The stone-like calm softened.

A faint blush warmed his cheeks, shy and unguarded.

I leaned forward, voice low. “So promise me something.”

He blinked. “Anything.”

“Never lower yourself—not even in front of your own reflection,” I said. “I don’t know what kind of life you lived to think you’re worth nothing… but trust me. You will receive everything you deserve one day.”

His breath shivered at the edges—like someone touched by warmth after years of cold.

Then…”Your Highness…” he murmured, hesitant, “may I touch you?”

My heart skipped.

I smiled faintly and stretched my hand toward him. “You can.”

Haldor’s lips parted just a little—a rare, disbelieving expression—before his fingers curled gently around my hand.

So gentle.So careful.As if I were something sacred.

He lifted my hand slowly—reverently—and pressed his lips to the back of it.

A whisper-soft kiss.

But it felt like a flame.

“You are the only person,” he said against my skin, voice trembling with sincerity, “who has ever treated me fairly, Your Highness. I am blessed to serve you.”

A tingling sensation rushed up my arm—warm, electric, unwelcome only because it was too real. My cheeks heated despite myself.

He released my hand reluctantly… stepping back, his eyes lowering. “I… do not have a family anymore, Your Highness.”

The shift in his tone made my breath catch. He wasn’t just answering a question. He was opening a door he had kept locked all his life.

“I lost them all,” he continued quietly, “in a carriage accident. When I was very young.”

My heart twisted. A carriage accident. Just like that—his entire world wiped out.

“After that… I was raised in an orphanage.” His hands tightened behind his back. “And later, I became a knight. And now… I stand here. Your captain.”

His story was simple.

Too simple.

Not because it lacked details—but because the pain underneath it was enormous, yet he summarized it as though it didn’t matter.

As though he didn’t matter.

I stepped closer.Slowly.Deliberately.

His eyes widened, just a fraction, as I reached up and cupped his cheek gently.

“Sir Haldor, you survived alone,” I said softly. “You endured things no child should ever face. You grew into a man strong enough to stand beside a crown and carry nations on your shoulders.”

His eyes—usually expressionless—flickered with emotions I had never seen in him before:

Grief.Hope.Fear.Longing.Relief.

I brushed my thumb beneath his eye—the softest touch.

“You did very well, Sir Haldor,” I whispered. “And I promise… I’ll give you everything you’re worth. Anything.”

His eyes closed for a moment—a silent surrender—before he lifted his hand to touch mine, holding it against his cheek. “Thank you… Your Highness. But…to be honest, having you…is having everything.”

For a moment, the world narrowed.

The war room. The maps. The marching soldiers. The looming prince. Everything disappeared except him… and me.

A breath.

A heartbeat.

A—

“YOUR HIGHNESS!!!”

The words cracked through the air like lightning. We both turned.

Osric stood in the doorway—shoulders rigid, hands clenched so tightly his knuckles had gone white, his chest rising and falling with barely restrained fury.

His eyes—usually cold, calculating—were burning.

Angry.Shaken.Threatening.

And locked entirely on Haldor’s hand touching my face. He stepped forward, voice low and trembling with rage, “What… is happening here?”

Haldor reacted first.

He flinched and immediately stepped back—as if he had committed a crime, as if he had dared to touch someone forbidden, as if he had crossed a line he had no right to approach.

But before he could retreat any further—I reached out and grabbed Haldor’s hand firmly.

He froze.

So did Osric.

I turned my head, eyes narrowing at the man who dared raise his voice at me.

“Grand Duke Osric,” I said, tone sharp as a blade, “no matter where you are… you should never forget your etiquette.”

Osric inhaled sharply, something like disbelief flickering across his face.

“Your Highness—” he began, stepping forward again.

“Stop.”

My voice cut clean through the room.

He stopped.

I didn’t raise my tone.I didn’t shout.I didn’t glare.

I simply commanded, and Osric—a Grand Duke—froze like a soldier caught in the wrong battlefield.

I continued, cold and unyielding:

“Whether it is a war room, a battlefield, or the Imperial Palace itself… you will always knock before entering. We…are not close anymore.”

Osric’s jaw clenched. Tension rolled off him in violent waves. But he bowed his head because he had no choice.

“I… was concerned,” he said, voice tight. “I heard—”

“You heard nothing,” I replied. “And even if you did—etiquette does not bend because your emotions feel like misbehaving.”

Haldor stiffened beside me, guilt draining from him at my words.

Osric lifted his gaze—eyes burning with something rawer than anger.Something hurt.Something jealous.Something dangerous.

“May I… speak with you alone, Your Highness?”

The air snapped tight. The kind of tension that tastes metallic.

I exhaled slowly.

“Sir Haldor,” I said without looking away from Osric, “wait for me outside.”

Haldor bowed deeply and left the room, the door shutting behind him with a heavy thud.

Only then did I turn to Osric. I crossed my arms. Chin up. Authority sharp.

“Start speaking.”

He stepped forward—too close, too familiar.

“Lavi—”

“YOUR. HIGHNESS.” The word cracked through the room like a whip.

He flinched.

“We have nothing left between us that gives you the right to call me by a nickname,” I continued, voice steady and cold. “So you will address me properly. Your Highness. If you want, I can teach you how to pronounce that word if you find it difficult.”

His jaw clenched. His fists tightened. But he obeyed.

“…Your Highness.”

“Good,” I said. “Now speak.”

His voice came out low, trembling, and uncharacteristically fragile.

“He… touched you.”

“And how does that concern you, Grand Duke?”

His breath hitched. Fury flashed and cracked through his mask before he smothered it again. But nothing could hide the tremble in his voice.

“I… did not expect you to allow such closeness with anyone,” he whispered. “Not so soon. Not right after we ended everything.”

Ah.

So there it was.

Not outrage.Not propriety.Not loyalty.

Jealousy.Pure and unfiltered.

The realization that someone else had stepped somewhere Osric believed he still belonged.

I stepped toward him, my voice lower and sharper: “And why do you think my world revolves around you, Grand Duke?”

He blinked—like the ground shifted beneath him.

“Why,” I continued, “are you so certain you were the only man allowed near me?”

He inhaled sharply, eyes widening.

“Or,” I added, leaning in just a fraction, “are you so deep in your own delusion that you believed—after everything ended—that I would spend the rest of my life untouched, unchosen, unmoved… just because I once loved you?”

His shoulders tensed.His pupils shook.He looked like a man hit by a reality he never prepared for.

“You—” Osric whispered, voice breaking, “you truly believe another man could replace—”

I cut him off with a cold smile.

“Grand Duke Osric,” I said, “you were not the first man in the world. And you are certainly not the last.”

His breath stuttered.

“You have no claim over me,” I added. “No right. No privilege. Not anymore.”

Silence cracked between us. Pain flickered in his eyes—raw, aching, unfiltered—followed by something else.

Fear.

For the first time, Osric looked afraid.

Afraid…of losing me completely. And he should be. Because I already slipped out of the place he once occupied. My Heart.

It does not belong to him anymore. Not even the pain.