Too Lazy to be a Villainess - Chapter 342

Chapter 342: The Captain No One Knew
[Lavinia’s Chamber—Later—Lavinia’s Pov]

Strange.

Very strange.

I tapped my finger against the armrest again, the sound echoing in the quiet room like a ticking clock.

How did General Luke know Haldor’s birthday is tomorrow?

Haldor—who never speaks about himself. Never celebrates. Never acknowledges dates. Never even mentions personal details unless forced.

So how…?

My eyes narrowed.

No one from Eloria knows his birthday. I don’t even know his age. He brushes questions away like dust.

Then how did Luke—a man from a conquered kingdom—know? Something is wrong. Something doesn’t add up.

Before the thought could deepen, a sharp knock rattled the door.

KNOCK. KNOCK.

“Your Highness,” Luke’s voice came through the wood—steady, respectful, and perfectly controlled. “General Arwin has arrived.”

“Send him inside,” I said.

The door opened, and Arwin strode in, bowing deeply. “Greetings, Your Highness.”

I nodded once. “Arwin.”

He glanced sideways—subtle irritation flickering in his eyes. “Your Highness, may I ask… why is Luke guarding your chamber?”

I crossed my arms. “Because he has taken Haldor’s place for the time being.”

Arwin blinked. “He has?”

“That stubborn idiot was awake for two days,” I muttered. “He wouldn’t sleep unless I ordered him to.”

Arwin’s lips twitched. “Ah. That explains why he looked one second away from collapsing.”

Exactly.

Arwin straightened. “On to the report, Your Highness. The nobles have begun gathering. We can begin the council meeting in half an hour.”

“Good,” I said. “Inform me the moment everyone arrives.”

He bowed. “Yes, Your Highness.”

He turned to leave—but I spoke before his hand touched the door.

“Arwin.”

He paused mid-step, glancing back. “Yes, Your Highness?”

I hesitated for only a moment. “Did you know tomorrow is Captain Haldor’s birthday?”

Arwin’s eyes widened in genuine shock. “Really? How did you know, Your Highness?”

I shrugged slightly. “Just… learned it.”

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “This is the first time we’ve ever heard of Captain Haldor having a birthday.”

I blinked. “… What do you mean the first time?”

Arwin nodded earnestly. “For years, we’ve asked him. Again and again. Every soldier in the Imperial ranks tried at least once.”

“And?”

“He never answered,” Arwin said. “Not once. He either left the room or changed the topic.”

My brows furrowed.

“So,” I murmured, “no one knew? Not even you?”

“No one,” Arwin confirmed. “Not even Zerith, and he was closest to Captain Haldor during the starting years. Haldor simply never shares his past.”

My mind sharpened instantly.

Then how did Luke—who met Haldor yesterday—know?

Arwin continued, “But since we know now, we should prepare something. It’s rare to celebrate for the Imperial Captain.”

I waved my hand. “You’re free to do whatever you wish.”

Arwin grinned. “Understood, Your Highness.”

He bowed again and left the chamber. The moment the door clicked shut, I leaned back against my couch, exhaling slowly.

The puzzle pieces weren’t fitting.

“Very strange,” I whispered.

My eyes drifted toward the door—toward the hallway where Luke is, silent and unreadable.

What exactly is your relationship with my captain, Luke? Why do you keep watching him like he’s… yours?

I sighed and massaged my temples.

Anyway.

Haldor’s birthday.

Should I do something? A small celebration? A gift? A sea trip? Throw him in the ocean?

Before my thoughts spiraled further—Knock knock.

Sera entered gracefully, holding a tray. “Your Highness, I brought tea.”

“Thank you, Sera.”

She poured the steaming tea with perfect precision and set a plate beside me.

“Your favorite macarons,” she said proudly.

My eyes sparkled. I gave her a big thumbs up. “You’re the best.”

Her lips curved smugly. “I know, Your Highness.”

I sipped my tea—sweet, fragrant, perfect—and asked casually, “Sera, can you prepare some cakes for tonight?”

Instant glare.

A terrifying one.

“You’re not eating sugar at night,” she snapped. “You will gain weight.”

I choked on air. “Sera—why are you so strict!?”

“Because you don’t know what moderation is, Your Highness.”

…She’s right.

I huffed dramatically. “It’s not for me!”

She raised a brow skeptically. “It’s Haldor’s birthday,” I said, softer this time. “I should at least prepare something, right?”

Sera blinked.

Then her entire face brightened.

“Oh! Should I bake him a cake? What flavor does Captain Haldor prefer?”

I opened my mouth.

Closed it.

Opened again.

“…I have no idea.”

Sera’s shoulders slumped. “Of course you don’t.”

Then I added innocently, “Why don’t you just bake my favorite strawberry cake?”

She stared at me.

Hard.

“…I thought we were celebrating his birthday, not yours, Your Highness.”

I coughed into my hand, avoiding her deadpan glare. “Strawberry is… festive.”

She sighed as if carrying the weight of the world. “Fine. I shall bake it.”

I grinned. “Excellent.”

Sera collected the tray and left, shaking her head like a disappointed mother. When the door shut again, I leaned back into the cushions, sipping my tea thoughtfully.

“I need to dig into Haldor’s past once I reach Eloria,” I murmured.

Because tomorrow was his birthday—and yet, somehow, General Luke knew that before any of us.

***

[Later—Council Hall of Fallen Meren]

Osric stood at the center of the hall, scrolls piled in his arms—reports the nobles had scrambled to produce in two days. His voice echoed steadily through the chamber.

“The northern ports produce medicinal kelp and salt through sea evaporation… all previously controlled by the Valtore family.”

I rested my chin on my knuckles. “Previously?”

Osric’s jaw tightened. “The family abandoned Meren and fled.”

I tapped my fingers once against the armrest. “Then their cowardice becomes our gain. Confiscate everything they owned. Put the ports under direct Imperial control.”

Osric bowed slightly. “At once, Your Highness.”

He unrolled the next parchment.

“The southern pearl mines—owned by House Relhaven.”

My brow arched with interest. “Pearl mines?”

A rare resource. A profitable one. Good.

“Is the family still present?”

Osric nodded. “Yes, Your Highness. The head of House Relhaven is here now.”

A man in his late forties stepped forward—solid posture, sea-weathered skin, clothes modest but impeccably neat. He bowed deeply. “Greetings to Her Highness, Crown Princess Lavinia.”

I scanned him.

Calm.

Collected.

Not trembling like the others.

Interesting.

“Rise.”

He obeyed.

“What is your status?” I asked.

“I am the Duke of House Relhaven, Your Highness. Our family oversees the southern pearl mines, three fishing harbors, and the trade fleet tied to them.”

I leaned forward slightly. “So your family did not flee.”

“No, Your Highness,” he said firmly. “Meren fell due to misrule, not because its people lacked strength. We have no intention of abandoning our land—or its new ruler.”

I nodded slowly.

“Your house remained when others ran. You preserved your workers, your ports, and your fleets without chaos. You provided full reports without hiding a single ledger.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Then,” I said, letting the silence stretch a moment, “I see no reason to let fear bury a loyal family.”

I stood from my throne. I stepped closer to the duke, my cloak brushing marble like liquid fire.

“From this moment,” I declared, voice ringing across the chamber, “House Relhaven is promoted.”

The nobles gasped.

“You are now Grand Duke of Southern Meren under Elorian rule.”

His eyes widened—shock, relief, and gratitude flickering across his features before he dropped to one knee again. “Y-Your Highness… this honor—”

“Is earned,” I finished for him. “Not given. You stood your ground when others abandoned their people. That is the quality I demand in those who will rebuild this land.”

He bowed lower. “I will serve Eloria with everything I have, Your Highness.”

“You will,” I said. “Because now, you carry the weight of an entire region.”

The other nobles swallowed hard.

Good.

Let them learn: Loyalty is rewarded. Cowardice is crushed.

I returned to my throne.

“Next report,” I commanded.

Osric resumed reading, scroll after scroll, his voice steady and clear—but the atmosphere had changed entirely.

The nobles who remained stood straighter. Listened harder.They had seen a Grand Duke appointed in moments—and entire family legacies shattered just as quickly.

Good.

Fear was not my goal. But obedience… that, I required.

Osric continued: “House Feront fled during the conflict as well. Their farmlands have been confiscated and placed under Imperial oversight.”

“Good,” I said. “I’ll not allow cowards to profit after abandoning their people.”

He nodded and moved on.

And so it continued—report after report, land after land. Every noble who fled lost everything.Every noble who remained loyal was elevated, strengthened, positioned firmly under my rule.

It was efficient.

It was strategic.

And it sent a clear message across the newly conquered kingdom:

Eloria does not trample the loyal. Eloria trims the rot. Eloria rebuilds stronger.

As the last scroll was placed down, I leaned back thoughtfully.

Meren—small, fragile, so corrupted by its own imperial family—yet beneath all the rubble was undeniable potential.

Ports with rare trade access. Forests full of medicinal plants. Coasts rich with minerals and sea gems. Workers strong, but stifled by incompetence.

This land could have thrived. Should have thrived. But its rulers never knew how.

Pathetic.

No matter. I would show them how prosperity is forged—through discipline, order, and blood if necessary.

The meeting ended with all nobles bowing deeply before leaving to fulfil the tasks I had assigned—strict deadlines, strict rules, strict oversight.

Exactly as it needed to be.

***

[Later — Palace Hallway]

I walked down the corridor, my boots echoing against polished stone. Arwin, Osric, and Luke followed behind me—three steps back, but completely aligned with my pace.

The scent of salt from the distant shore drifted faintly through the halls.

“Arwin,” I said without looking back.

“Yes, Your Highness?” he stepped forward.

“I will be leaving this territory under your rule.”

“It will be my great honor, Your Highness,” he said. “I will manage Meren as if it were your own blade.”

“It is my blade,” I corrected lightly. “Don’t let it dull.”

He straightened, resolute. “Never.”

I gave a small nod—approving, confident, final.

Behind me, Osric remained silent. Luke watched quietly, unreadable. But I could feel the shift between them all.

Eloria’s hierarchy had changed.

As we approached the grand palace entrance, sunlight spilled across the marble, warm and golden. A warmth spread through my chest.

“…It’s time,” I murmured.

Arwin looked at me curiously. “Your Highness?”

I inhaled softly.

“Time to go home,” I said.

My lips curved slightly—small, genuine, the kind I rarely allowed anyone to see. “Papa must be waiting.”

For the first time in days, my heart felt lighter.

The kingdom was secured. Meren was stabilized. The nobles were aligned.

And Eloria’s banner flew across every tower.

Now—I would return to the one person who always trusted me without question. The one person who never saw a tyrant—only his daughter.

The corners of my lips lifted.

“Prepare the departure,” I said softly.

And the hall—once filled with trembling nobles—now echoed with my steps as I walked toward the future that awaited in Eloria.

Toward home.