Too Lazy to be a Villainess - Chapter 350

Chapter 350: A Tyrant Meets His Match
[Emperor Cassius POV—Throne Room—The Next Day]

The throne room buzzed faintly with murmurs—nobles lined against the walls, guards standing tall, and sunlight glaring off polished marble. But all of that noise evaporated the moment he walked in.

General Luke.

Black hair tied neatly. Blue eyes calm—too calm. Posture straight like a blade forged in quiet fire. And an aura that grated against my skin like a challenge.

I narrowed my eyes.

“So… you are that bastard,” I drawled slowly, letting each word slice the air. “General Luke.”

He bowed—not deeply. Not fearfully. A respectful tilt of the head, nothing more.

“Yes,” he said, voice steady, irritatingly steady. “I am the general Crown Princess Lavinia has taken under her command.”

Confidence. Unshaken confidence.

I hated it.

My jaw ticked. “Why is this bastard pissing me off already…” I muttered under my breath.

Theon, standing beside my throne, smirked. “Looks like Your Majesty has met someone who carries the same energy as you.”

I turned my head sharply, eyes narrowing. “Should I cancel your leave for your children’s ceremony next week?”

Theon’s spine snapped straight instantly. “I apologize sincerely, Your Majesty.”

Ravick stepped forward slightly, expression unreadable. “Your Majesty… shall I make him kneel?”

Luke didn’t even blink.

“No.” I lifted one hand lazily, and Ravick stepped back.

My attention locked onto the man before me. General Luke didn’t fidget. Didn’t sweat. Didn’t look around nervously like every other fool who entered this room.

He just stood there.

Still.

Centered.

Infuriatingly composed.

“When nobles enter my hall,” I said, voice echoing through stone, “they tremble in fear. They kneel—because they know who stands before them.”

Luke’s expression did not shift.

Not even a muscle twitched.

His eyes met mine—calm, steady, unshaken.

“…They kneel,” he said quietly, “because they have never faced true tyrants. I have lived my entire life under tyrants.”

A ripple of shock spread through the room. Guards stiffened. Nobles gasped softly.

Theon muttered under his breath, “This one has death wishes…”

Ravick’s hand brushed his sword hilt.

I… smirked.

Bold bastard.

Fearless bastard.

Annoying bastard.

I leaned back in my throne, studying him like a puzzle sent by the gods to test my patience. I had summoned him today because Lavinia mentioned the word Astreyon.

A place even I, Emperor of Eloria, knew not to cross lightly.

And yet here he stood—a man from a kingdom ruled not by kings, but by priests—standing in my throne room as if he belonged here.

“I heard,” I said slowly, “that among those fools in Meren, you were the only sane one.”

Silence.

Luke neither confirmed nor denied it.

“But,” I continued, “I am curious why a man from Astreyon—a land that barely acknowledges foreign soil—would serve as general to a kingdom of idiots.”

Luke’s jaw tightened.

“And more importantly…” I leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Why am I seeing a man of Astreyon in my empire when your people do not mingle with outsiders? Ever.”

His grip on his wrist tensed—just slightly. Barely noticeable.

Except to me.

“Did you fall in love with an outsider?” I asked, letting the words drip with provocation.

This time he flinched.

A small movement. Barely there.

But I caught it.

Ah…

There it is.

A weakness.

A past.

A wound.

“Interesting,” I murmured, tapping my finger on my throne. “So you fell in love with someone beyond your sacred borders?”

His expression closed off, turning stone-cold.

“You do not have a family then?” I pressed, voice turning sharp. “Where is your wife? Any son or daughter?”

Luke was silent for three seconds.

Not long.

But long enough to ooze pain, memory, and regret. Then he spoke—quiet, steady, but laced with hollowness.

“I lost my wife and son years ago,” he said. “That is all I can tell you, Your Majesty.”

The throne room fell silent.

Not a pin dropped. Not a breath moved. Only the echo of his words lingered—heavy, dense, and soaked in grief.

I watched him.

Watched the tightness in his jaw. The way his fingers curled faintly. The pain flickering behind his eyes—raw, buried deep.

He wasn’t lying. But he wasn’t telling the full truth either.

I tilted my head, lips curling into a slow smirk.

“Hmm.”

I studied him like a beast sizing up another beast.

“Why,” I muttered under my breath, “does this man look like he is hiding something else?”

Something bigger. Something dangerous. Something connected to—

My thoughts paused.

His eyes.

Not common blue. Not cold blue. Not the blue of soldiers or nobles or wandering mercenaries.

A familiar blue.

A blue I have seen somewhere. The same unyielding resolve. The same stubborn refusal to bow.

My gaze sharpened.

General Luke did not shift. But something beneath his expression—behind the steel, behind the composed façade—quivered.

Just once.

Barely.

But enough.

Enough to confirm my suspicion. This bastard…This man… Was hiding a truth big enough to rattle even me. And I would tear it out of him if I had to dig through his bones to find it.

But for now… His voice cut into my thoughts—steady, tightly controlled. “Your Majesty… May I take my leave?”

I tilted my head slowly, scanning every inch of him.

After a long moment, I sighed—sharp, dismissive.

“Fine,” I said. “You may leave.”

He bowed—not deeply—but respectfully and turned to walk away.

Ravick stepped forward the moment the doors shut behind Luke.

“Your Majesty,” he began, tone formal and cautious, “since General Arwin is not here to make the war report… shall I summon Grand Duke Osric—”

“NO.”

The word cracked through the room like a whip.

Ravick froze mid-step.

I narrowed my eyes, my voice dripping venom. “I do not want to see that little bastard’s face. If I do, I might kill him.”

I rose from my throne, the weight of authority crashing through the chamber with every step.

“Summon Captain Haldor to my chambers,” I said. “I will hear everything from him.”

Ravick bowed immediately. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

I strode down the steps of the throne, cloak dragging behind me like a shadow made of thunder.

“Dismissed,” I growled.

Not a heartbeat later, the nobles scrambled—tripping over robes, bumping into each other, fleeing faster than rats escaping a burning barn.

Theon muttered to Ravick, “He really hates Grand Duke Osric.”

“I heard that,” I snapped.

He straightened like a scared deer.

I pushed the throne doors open myself—letting them SLAM against the walls—and walked out with long, stormy strides.

Blue eyes.Astreyon.Secrets.

Too many loose threads.

And I, Cassius Devereux, do not tolerate loose threads in my empire.

***

[Lavinia’s POV—Private Garden—Later]

The sun was warm, the tea was perfect, the flowers were blooming beautifully… And yet Rey looked like he had been personally tortured by life.

“Ugh… can’t I go after a week?” he groaned dramatically, slumping in his chair like a dying vegetable. “I am tired enough too…”

She looked at him the same way one looks at a child throwing a tantrum in public—as if I was the one forcing him into eternal suffering.

I sipped my tea calmly.

“Yes, you have to go now,” I said, adjusting my posture elegantly while Rey looked like a mangled pillow. “I want to know everything about Haldor and General Luke.”

Rey blinked. “Everything? As in… everything-everything?”

I nodded. “Yes. I feel like there is a connection between them. I want their information immediately.”

Sera leaned forward, eyes wide. “What kind of relationship do you think they have, Your Highness?”

I glanced at her over my teacup and said, perfectly composed, “I feel… they are father and son.”

Sera inhaled so violently she almost swallowed a leaf.

“WHAAATTT!!!???”

The maids around us froze for a moment, then continued their work as if royal gossip did not feed their souls every day.

Sera whispered urgently, “Princess… but how is that possible?! They don’t even—”

She stopped.

Squinted.

Her eyes widened even more.

“…Now that I recall,” she muttered, “they do look alike. One is old, one is young, and both are—”

She clasped her cheeks dramatically.

“—absolutely handsome!”

Rey choked on air. “What? Handsome? Darling, you cannot call another man handsome in front of me—IT HURTS.”

Sera turned to him with the guiltiest, softest puppy eyes. “Should I… compensate you?”

Rey smirked instantly, leaning closer. “Yes. Give me a kiss—”

“I WILL SEPARATE YOU TWO FOR MONTHS IF YOU BECOME LOVEY-DOVEY IN FRONT OF ME AGAIN!”

Silence.

Both froze like guilty criminals.

Rey slowly stood up, pouting. “…gosh… you’re so cruel…”

He dusted his robes as dramatically as he breathed.

“Fine! I’ll go!” he declared with the pride of a man being forced into exile. “See you when I uncover all the shocking family secrets.”

And just like that—Rey spun on his heels and marched out of the garden.

Sera waved sweetly. “Bye—don’t die!”

Marshi flicked his tail.

And I took another slow sip of tea as the breeze brushed my hair.

Somewhere out there… Answers about Haldor. Secrets about Luke. A truth buried in time.

Rey was going to dig them up.

And I…I was finally ready to know.