Too Lazy to be a Villainess - Chapter 340

Chapter 340: The General Who Knows Too Much
[Haldor’s POV—Council Chamber Aftermath]

When Rey’s magic dimmed, the chamber slowly returned to its natural color—cool marble, golden lantern light, and dust floating in the air like tiny ghosts.

General Luke rose to his feet.

Metal clattered softly as the last physical chains were removed, replaced by Rey’s invisible noose of death.

But the moment he stood, he did something that froze the blood in my veins.

He looked at me.

Not at the Princess. Not at the magical shackles constricting his throat. Not at Osric’s glare burning a hole through him.

He looked at me.

Directly. Openly. As if I were the only person standing in this room. And the expression on his face—recognition.

Raw, disbelieving, painful recognition.

Like he was staring at a ghost he never expected to see again. His lips parted slightly. His eyes softened in a way I had only ever seen on dying soldiers who finally understood something too late.

I locked my posture immediately.

Back straight. Hands behind me. Expressionless, cold, and blank—a loyal soldier carved out of stone.

But inside?

A splinter lodged itself under my ribs.

Why is he looking at me like that? Why… why does it feel like he knows me?

Before the thought could spiral, Her Highness’ voice cut through the air like a sharpened blade.

“You serve Eloria now,” she declared. Her voice echoed through the chamber, commanding every ear, every pulse, every breath. “The Imperial Palace claims you as its general.”

Luke bowed low, eyes dropping to the floor—but not before they flicked toward me one last time.

“As you command… Your Highness.”

Silence fell.

A silence that belonged only to her. She turned, her red cloak brushing the ground like sizzling fire.

“Meeting dismissed. Prepare the nobles who didn’t flee. I want them lined in the hall within the hour.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Osric and I said together.

But she looked at me first.

Always at me first.

Her gaze lingered only a heartbeat, but it was enough to tighten something inside my chest.

“Haldor,” she said softly—but with that tone that always wrapped around my spine like silk and iron. “Guide General Luke. Explain everything about Eloria to him.”

I bowed, fist to heart. “As you command, Your Highness.”

She stepped past me—Osric trailing at her side. Her shoulder brushed the faintest edge of my arm.

Even that tiny contact—my pulse slammed once, hard.

I kept my head bowed until her footsteps faded down the corridor. Only then did I exhale slowly, staring at the floor… and then at the hand I had used to shield her earlier—no.

The hand I used to touch her.

The image struck me like lightning.

Her hair slipped across her lips as she rambled about the sea. Her bright eyes fluttering with childlike excitement. Her soft breath brushed my fingers as I tucked the strand behind her ear.

I was lost in her.

My hand… My traitorous hand… It still remembered the warmth of her skin.

Soft, warm, silky—alive. More alive than anything I had touched in years.

“She doesn’t look like a tyrant at that time…” I murmured under my breath.

Not to me.

Never to me.

A tyrant doesn’t giggle about sea goggles. A tyrant doesn’t stare at the horizon with eyes full of dreams she was never allowed to have. A tyrant doesn’t smile so brightly that it punches the breath from my lungs.

So what is she? What is she to me? What is this feeling? Why do I feel lost in her whenever she speaks casually to me?

I don’t know.

But—it feels like chains breaking.

The ones I’ve worn since I was a boy. The ones forged in blood on a cold hill. The ones that trapped me beside my dying mother’s body as the world called me cursed, unwanted, and forgotten.

Since that day, I have stayed locked inside myself.

Silent. Obedient. Empty.

But nowadays—whenever she smiles and shares little things—when she lets me stand closer than anyone ever has—something cracks.

And now—now I feel something I cannot name.

Something terrifying. Something hopeful. Something warm and dangerous that coils tightly in my chest whenever she says my name.

Like it belongs to her.

It feels like I finally walked out of that hill.

Out of that grave of a childhood.Out of that memory of blood and silence and a mother who died infront of me.

Did she free me?

I don’t know.

But something in my chest tightened—painful, unfamiliar—when I watched her walk out with Osric. His presence at her side… it irritated me more than it should have.

A voice broke through my thoughts.

“Seems like you are very close to the Princess… Captain.”

General Luke.

I turned my head slowly, expression as flat as stone. That man… there is something wrong with him.The way he keeps looking at me—like he knows something I don’t. Like he’s searching for pieces of a ghost in my face.

I stared at him coldly. “That is none of your business, General.”

He didn’t flinch.He didn’t bow.He just smiled—soft, warm… disturbingly warm.

“Then,” he said quietly, “allow me to get to know you better. Let’s get along, son.”

Son.

The word slammed into me like a blade.

My entire body stiffened. My hand twitched toward my sword.

Son?

My jaw clenched so tight it hurt. “I AM NOT YOUR SON.”

He blinked—but not with offense. With sorrow.

Sorrow.

Why?

“Do not call me that,” I said, my voice colder than the marble beneath our feet. “Address me as Captain.”

I turned sharply, ready to walk away before rage or confusion swallowed me whole.

But he spoke again.

“Since when did you join the Elorian army?” His tone was gentle—too gentle. “Your parents must be proud that you’re serving the Crown Prin—”

“I don’t have a family.”

The words tore out too fast.Too sharp.Too raw.

Luke froze.

I took a step back from him, eyes narrowing. “And stop getting closer to me. I do not like people pretending to care.”

His mouth parted slightly—as if something inside him cracked at my words. But I didn’t let him speak.

“I hate it,” I hissed. “So keep your distance.”

Silence.

He stood there, eyes soft in a way I didn’t understand—a way I didn’t want to understand.

His gaze wasn’t pity.It wasn’t sympathy.It was… grief.

Why grief?

Why the hell does he look at me like I’m someone he has already lost?

I turned abruptly, my voice hardening back into command. “Let’s go. I don’t have all day.”

Luke followed behind me, silent. But as we walked toward the training grounds, I could feel it—his eyes on my back.

Heavy.Searching.Full of a truth I wasn’t ready to hear.

And far, far too close to the ghosts I thought I buried on that hill.

***

[Lavinia’s POV—Council Hall of the Fallen Kingdom]

The council hall of Meren was massive—stone pillars carved with serpents, banners sagging like dying throats, incense thick enough to choke on yet failing to mask the lingering stench of blood from yesterday’s slaughter.

The nobles who remained—the ones who never sided with Prince Kaelren—kneeled the moment my boots echoed through the marble.

Their voices rose in shaky unison: “Greetings to Her Highness, Crown Princess Lavinia.”

I didn’t answer.

Not until I placed my hand on the old emperor’s seat—and shoved it violently aside.

SCRAAAAAPE—!!

The nobles flinched. Arwin stepped forward immediately, placing the throne-like seat behind me as if he knew exactly what I wanted.

I sat—crossing one leg over the other, crimson cloak spilling like fresh blood. Marshi curled beside me, a low rumble in his throat warning them to choose their words carefully.

Haldor, Arwin, Zerith, Osric—and finally General Luke—took their usual positions behind and beside me, forming a wall of power.

Only then did I speak.

“RAISE.”

They obeyed.

Quickly.

And what intrigued me most—They didn’t look terrified. They looked… relieved. As if they had been waiting for someone to take control.

I tapped my fingers once against the armrest and scanned them with cold precision. “Whose house held the title of Grand Duke before?”

A noble stepped forward, bowing. “He fled, Your Highness.”

I laughed softly.

“Hmm. A Grand Duke running from his duties… I expected at least a little backbone from Meren’s highest family.”

I leaned forward slightly—predatory, calculating.

“Since the Grand Duke abandoned his post, we will appoint a new one. But hear me well—” My voice sharpened. “—Eloria’s hierarchy will be enforced here. Completely.”

They stiffened and nodded.

“The highest household is not the Grand Duke,” I continued, “but the Imperial Captain.”

Haldor remained expressionless. But General Luke— His eyes widened. He stared at Haldor like a man seeing a ghost.

“However,” I continued, “since my Imperial Captain will serve me personally, the next in command—General Arwin—will oversee this territory.”

Arwin lifted his chin slightly, superiority radiating off him.

“He outranks every noble house here. Do you understand?”

The room echoed: “Yes, Your Highness.”

I leaned back, resting my cheek against my knuckles— casual, relaxed, but every syllable dripping with dominion.

“Now. Business.”

Their spines snapped straight.

“I want detailed reports on every region under your care. Every trade route. Every port. Every family influence. Every coin that moves. Every rumor. No exceptions.”

“Two days,” I added, tapping my fingers again. “I’m giving you two days. Dismissed.”

They bowed low and hurried out—relief and urgency mixing into one frantic storm.

I watched every single one of them leave. Then, when the last noble disappeared through the towering doors, I finally turned my head toward the man waiting beside me.

General Luke.

His posture respectful.His expression unreadable.

His eyes—still flickering toward Haldor for reasons he refused to voice.

I rose from my seat slowly, my shadow stretching long across the marble.

“Now, General,” I said, voice cutting through the hall like a cold blade. “You will tell me everything about Meren.”

He bowed his head. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“Which families were strongest,” I continued, circling him like a hawk, “why they held power… and which families fled.”

Luke lifted his gaze slightly—enough to meet mine, enough to see the warning there. “As you command your highness.”