Too Lazy to be a Villainess - Chapter 347

Chapter 347: A Proud Father
[Lavinia’s POV—Inside the Tent—Continuation]

“…Ahem.”

Rey’s voice cut through the air like a guilty bell, and the moment it reached us, Haldor and I snapped our eyes away from each other.

I stepped back so fast I nearly tripped over Marshi’s tail. Haldor straightened instantly, posture rigid, expression returning to that perfectly carved, emotionless statue—except for the faint red dusting the tips of his ears.

Rey stood at the entrance, hands raised dramatically, eyebrows wiggling like a menace. “Ohh, so sorry for intruding on—whatever… that was.”

My eye twitched.

“Rey,” I warned.

He coughed into his fist, pretending to act professional. “Right. Yes. You wanted to see me, Princess?”

I gestured sharply toward Haldor. “Heal him.”

Rey blinked once. Twice. Then turned to Haldor with an expression that said, Ohhh, I know exactly what happened.

“Sure… sure,” he said, stretching the word with a smug little lilt. “Our Captain did get punched in the face by a jealous ex-lover, after all—”

“REY.”

“Right, right—healing magic, coming up.”

He lifted his hands, glowing runes forming between his fingers. Marshi sat beside him like a proud assistant, while Solena perched on his shoulder, judging Haldor with her whole soul.

Rey leaned over Haldor, still smirking. “Hold still, Captain. Wouldn’t want me to accidentally heal your face wrong and make you uglier—”

Haldor glared.

Rey laughed. “Relax, relax. Princess would cry if I messed up your face.”

“REY.”

He snapped his mouth shut—for three seconds.

Then the magic flared softly.

Warm.

Golden.

A gentle hum filled the tent as the bruise on Haldor’s cheek began to fade. Haldor didn’t move a muscle, but his eyes flickered—just once—toward me.

And I felt it.

That same invisible pull between us. The air tightened. My chest tightened. Something inside me whispered again, quietly, dangerously—

You are getting too close.

But I couldn’t look away.

Not from him.

Not from the way his eyes softened when they met mine, even for a second. Not from the way he tried to hide every emotion and yet failed whenever I touched him.

Rey let out a long, dramatic sigh.

“Well, well,” he muttered under his breath, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say fate is practically shoving you two together.”

I kicked his shin.

“OW—PRINCESS!”

Solena screeched approvingly. Haldor’s lips twitched—just barely—like he was fighting a smile. Rey rubbed his shin and grumbled dramatically. “Fine, fine. I’m done. His face is fixed. Happy?”

I nodded. “Yes. Now GET OUT.”

He threw his hands up. “Damn… she’s so ungrateful…”

He trudged out of the tent muttering curses at my ancestors, his hair a complete mess thanks to Marshi’s dragging.

The tent fell quiet for a moment.

Then—FWUMP.

Solena dropped onto Haldor’s shoulder like a rock falling from heaven. She leaned in, beak inches from his cheek, scanning him with narrowed eyes.

She tilted her head left.

Then right.

Then she squinted so suspiciously it looked like she was performing a background check on his soul.

As if she were wondering, “Should I abandon my original master and adopt this giant man as my new one?”

Haldor stood still, frozen like a man facing divine judgment.

I sighed. “Haldor… go and bear your punishment.”

He stood, placing a hand over his heart. “Yes, Your Highness.”

But Solena did not move. She remained on his shoulder, glaring fiercely as though daring him to run away from washing horses.

“Solena,” I warned, “stop scanning him and come here.”

The bird slowly—slowly—turned her head toward me.

And glared.

Then she scoffed. Actually scoffed. A tiny offended Hmph.

Only after making sure Haldor witnessed her disappointment did she flap off, landing on Marshi’s back like she was settling into a throne of fur. Marshi chuffed proudly, clearly used to acting as Solena’s personal transportation.

I rubbed my temples. “I really have dramatic pets…”

Then I shot Solena a look. “Also—why are you here? Why aren’t you with your original master?”

Solena flipped her head with full diva attitude, feathers puffed.

As if saying: “Because he’s boring.”

I stared.

“…Wow.”

I walked to my bed and flopped face-first onto it.

“My pets are dramatic. My men are dramatic. The nobles are dramatic. Even the weather is dramatic.” I groaned into the blankets. “People around me are more dramatic than I am.”

Solena screeched in agreement—probably thinking I finally understood her suffering.

Marshi nudged my side, tail thumping. And outside, I could faintly hear Haldor being forced to start his punishment—followed by Zerith cackling loudly.

***

[The Next Day—Before Departure]

SHINE!!!

SPARKLE!!!!

I blinked.

Then blinked again.

The horses were… glowing.

Actually glowing.

So polished, so overly groomed, and so aggressively shiny that sunlight ricocheted off their coats like weaponized mirrors.

“By the stars…” I muttered, shielding my eyes. “I can see my future in their fur.”

Marshi stood beside me, squinting at the horses with deep offense—like he was personally insulted that something else looked shinier than him.

Solena?

Solena was perched on his head, laughing. Mocking. Judging. Enjoying all the chaos.

“They… really made the horses shine, Your Highness,” Sera said, voice trembling between shock and disbelief.

I nodded slowly. “They are exceptionally talented… I guess?”

Sera pressed her lips together. “Terrifyingly so.”

I hummed in agreement.

And then—”Captain Haldor is great with everything, isn’t he, Your Highness?”

I turned.

General Luke stood proudly beside me… and I do mean proudly. Back straight, shoulders lifted, chest puffed slightly—as if he were watching his child win first prize in a royal competition. A faint smile tugged at his lips.

“I never knew the Captain was this talented…” he said softly, admiration lacing every word.

I raised a brow.

“And why,” I asked slowly, “do you look so proud?”

He blinked.

And actually—actually flinched.

He looked away too quickly. “Just… appreciating the captain. Is it wrong, Princess?”

“No,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him. “But praise is one thing. The expression you’re making is another. You’re smiling like—”

I paused.

Then smirked.

“—like my papa does when he sees me.”

Luke froze.

Sera sucked in a gasp.

I leaned slightly closer. “And it’s not like you’re Haldor’s lost father to be this proud, right?”

His entire posture snapped like a tree struck by lightning. A flicker—a shadow—a pain—crossed his eyes so fast it almost felt imagined.

Almost.

He cleared his throat violently. “We… We should leave, Princess. Or else we won’t reach Eloria by tomorrow afternoon.”

And he practically ran away.

Not walked.

Not strode.

Ran.

Sera stared after him, slack-jawed. “Your Highness… he fled.”

“I noticed,” I said dryly.

We stood in silence for a heartbeat.

Then I asked softly, “Did you see that, Sera?”

Sera nodded vigorously, leaning close. “Yes. General Luke is very suspicious when it comes to Sir Haldor.”

“Exactly.” I crossed my arms, tapping one finger thoughtfully against my elbow. “And somehow… I feel like he is…”

Sera waited, wide-eyed.

I lowered my voice.

“…very much connected to Haldor. As if he’s…” I hesitated, lips tightening, “The father Haldor never knew is still alive.”

Sera’s eyes grew even wider. “Your Highness… if that’s true… then Sir Haldor—”

“I know,” I whispered.

Because if Luke truly knew something about Haldor’s past… If Haldor truly had a family he never remembered… If Luke’s pained expression meant what I suspected… Then destiny wasn’t just playing with my captain.

It was dragging him toward truths neither of us was prepared for.

***

[Emperor Cassius Devereux POV — The Imperial Palace — Night]

The night draped itself over the Imperial Palace like a velvet cloak—silent, heavy, absolute. Only the moon dared shine upon the marble balconies of Eloria.

I stood at mine, leaning lightly against the carved pillar, swirling the crimson wine in my glass. The liquid glimmered like spilled blood beneath the moonlight.

Footsteps.

Soft. Familiar.

Then Regis’s voice followed, smooth and amused: “Tomorrow by afternoon… Your daughter will be returning.”

He leaned casually against the doorway, arms folded, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“Are you happy?” he asked.

I didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, I took a slow sip—letting the wine burn down my throat—before I finally turned my head toward him.

“Happy?” My voice echoed low, deep, cutting through the cold night air.

“Regis,” I said, “my daughter is returning victorious. I am not merely happy. I am proud.”

Regis lifted a brow. “You always knew she would be a great ruler.”

I let out a soft, humorless chuckle.

“Of course I knew,” I said. “I am her father.”

I turned my gaze back to the horizon, where the moon cast its silver path as if marking Lavinia’s road home.

“I raised her myself. From her very first sword grip… to her first kill.” My tone hardened—iron beneath velvet. “Lavinia Devereux was not born to be gentle. She was born to rule as my daughter..”

Regis smiled—wry, respectful. “You sound like a tyrant bragging about training another tyrant.”

I smirked, lifting my glass slightly.

“Good,” I replied. “That means I did my job well.”

The wind brushed past, carrying faint echoes of distant city life—unaware that their ruler stood above them, eyes glowing with cold pride.

“She conquered Meren,” I said quietly. “In days. With no support from me. With no council interference.”

“That she did,” Regis agreed.

I inhaled, letting the night air fill my lungs.

“Lavinia is the next Empress,” I said. “Not because she is my blood… but because she has already surpassed every fool in my court.”

My fingers tightened slightly around the glass.

Regis’s expression softened, sorrow threading through his voice. “I only wish my son realized what he has lost.”

I turned my head slightly, fixing him with a cold, unwavering stare.

“Your son was never good for my daughter,” I said flatly. “A good man, yes. But standing beside the next Empress?” I clicked my tongue softly. “He was never worthy.”

Regis flinched—but he didn’t deny it.

Slowly, he asked, “Then tell me, Cassius… what kind of man has the right to stand beside her?”

My answer was instant.

“NO ONE.”

The word cracked through the night like thunder. “My daughter needs no man. She is an empire by herself.”

“But even if—” my eyes narrowed, “—even if a man existed who could stand beside her… he would need to value her, protect her, challenge her, and kneel before her strength—not fear it.”

Regis lowered his gaze.

“And your son…” I continued, my tone turning unforgiving, “…only loved the idea of her. Or worse—he was obsessed with her. But respect? Understanding? The strength to face her power?”

A humorless smirk curved my lips.

“He had none.”

Regis exhaled shakily.

“And that,” I said, turning back to the moonlit horizon, “is why he was never meant to stand beside the Empress of Eloria.”

The silence that followed was absolute.