Too Lazy to be a Villainess - Chapter 353

Chapter 353: A Ball of Power and Shadows
[Captain Haldor’s POV—Before the Victory Ball—Outside Lavinia’s Chambers]

I had faced war.

I had faced blades pressed to my throat, arrows aimed at my heart, monsters in human skin, and nobles sharper than assassins. Nothing—nothing—prepared me for the sight that stood before me when the princess turned toward the door.

Lavinia Devereux.

My princess.

My future Empress.

She stepped into view… and the world simply stopped. The breath I’d drawn lodged painfully in my chest. My hand, resting on the hilt of my sword a moment ago, refused to move.

Her gown… Night-sky blue. Silver constellations scattered like real stars across the fabric. And the back—gods, the back—a single, sweeping curve of bare skin, framed with silver chains that caught the candlelight and trembled when she breathed.

Her hair was pulled half-up, tangled with silver ribbons. Soft curls framed her face. Light shimmered on her collarbones.

She looked nothing like the commander who led armies. Nothing like the princess who killed a prince without blinking.

Tonight… She looked like the woman fate warned me never to fall for.

And yet.

I had already fallen.

Deep. Silent. Unrecoverable. I didn’t even notice Sera staring at me until she stifled a laugh behind her hand.

But I couldn’t look away from Princess Lavinia. Not when she was walking toward me with a softness I’d never seen in her steps before. Not when her eyes were warm. Not when she smiled—gently, unknowingly, lethally.

“Captain?” she said.

The single word broke whatever remained of my composure.

I forced air into my lungs. Straightened. Bowed.

“Y-Your Highness.”

Useless.

I sounded like a soldier struck dumb by beauty—not even worthy of standing in her presence. She tilted her head slightly, amused.

“You look pale,” she said. “Are you feeling unwell?”

Unwell?

I was dying. Peacefully.

“I am fine,” I managed, though my voice betrayed me with its roughness. “You simply look…”

She waited.

I swallowed.

“…exquisite, Your Highness.”

For a second—a terrifying second—I thought I had overstepped. That she would turn away, offended that a mere captain dared to admire her.

But instead—

“Thank you, Haldor…”

Her voice was soft. Warm. Almost… shy. And when I lifted my eyes, she was smiling.

A small, gentle curve that hit me harder than any sword ever had. My heart didn’t skip a beat.

It dropped.

Straight out of my chest, heavy and helpless. Falling only, only for her.

Behind me, footsteps approached—the rustle of maids, the disciplined march of guards, and the faint swell of music rising from the grand hall.

But none of it mattered. Not when she stood in front of me like that—like a sky full of stars wearing the shape of a woman.

She mesmerized me.

Completely.

“Shall we leave?” she asked softly.

The movement of her gown—silk whispering, silver chains brushing her bare back—was enough to steal every remaining thought in my mind.

And then—she extended her hand toward me, “Haldor… shall we?”

My breath caught. Her fingers—delicate, gloved, shining beneath faint candlelight—reached toward me as though inviting me into a world I had no right to enter.

My hands trembled.

Not from fear.

But because my worn, battle-rough hands felt unworthy to touch something so breathtaking. Still… I bowed my head, letting the weight of devotion anchor me.

And I placed my hand beneath hers.

Warm. Soft. Perfectly fitting into mine.

“It is my honor,” I murmured, voice breaking despite my attempt to steady it. “…to be your companion for tonight, Your Highness.”

She looked at me once—truly looked—her gaze softening in a way that made my heart forget its purpose.

“Let’s go,” she whispered.

“By the way…where is Marshi?” she asked.

“He’s in the garden with Solena, your highness.” She nodded, and we walked forward.

And in that moment—with her hand in mine, her warmth brushing my skin, her presence wrapping around me like a spell—I knew something had shifted.

Something fragile.

Something forbidden.

Something I could never speak aloud. But as I walked beside her, guiding her toward the golden doors of the grand hall—for the first time in my life… I wished the night would never end and I could hold her hands forever.

And tonight—with her beauty blazing brighter than any star, with her gentle smile carved into my heart, with her presence wrapping around me like fate—

I could no longer deny it.

I like her.

I like Her Highness Crown Princess Lavinia.

The woman I am forbidden to desire…yet hopelessly, helplessly drawn to.

***

[Lavinia’s POV—Imperial Ballroom—Victory Celebration Night]

“PRESENTING HER HIGHNESS, CROWN PRINCESS LAVINIA DEVEREUX, AND IMPERIAL CAPTAIN HALDOR VALETHORN!!”

The herald’s voice thundered through the ballroom, and—The world erupted.

The golden doors swung open, and a tidal wave of sound, light, and color crashed over us.

Music swelled from crystal chandeliers high above. Thousands of candles flickered like constellations brought down from the heavens. Silk gowns rustled, jewels shimmered, and the stale perfume of nobles thickened the air.

And every pair of eyes—every whisper, every gasp—turned to us.

To me.

To Haldor beside me.

My gown shimmered with each step, a dark midnight blue that caught every glint of starlight and made the floor itself look dull in comparison. The backless chains whispered against my spine with every breath.

Haldor walked at my side, dressed in imperial black embroidered with silver.He held my hand—gently, softly, warmly.

But the moment we stepped into the sea of glittering eyes… I felt it.

His hand tightened. Slightly. His shoulders stiffened. His breath caught.

Not out of fear.

But because hundreds of nobles were slicing him apart with their gazes. I offered him the faintest squeeze—silent reassurance—and continued gliding forward as if the world had bowed beneath my heels.

Behind the fans and jeweled masks, whispers slithered like snakes:

“Is that Captain Haldor beside her?”

“Why him? Where is the Grand Duke?”

“She chose a mere soldier to escort her?”

“Is she favoring him?”

“Favoring? Don’t forget he holds the highest rank among us. And please—look at him. I would favor him too.”

“I agree… He’s unfairly handsome.”

“Those eyes… and that jawline—gods.”

“Careful. Your husband is right behind you.”

“He can watch.”

I almost laughed.

Court women were shameless.

And honestly? I didn’t blame them.

Haldor’s profile under the chandelier light looked carved from obsidian and moonstone—stoic, sharp, almost unreal. His hair had been combed neatly for once; silver embroidery framed his shoulders like armor forged for a royal knight.

He did not belong among these preening nobles.

He belonged next to me.

Still, I felt him tense with every step we took—with every whisper of mere soldier, and with every lingering stare at our joined hands.

His grip tightened again—barely noticeable, but I felt it.

“Haldor,” I murmured softly so only he could hear, “you’re crushing my fingers.”

He froze, mortified, and loosened instantly.

“F–Forgive me, Your Highness,” he whispered.

I smiled—warm, gentle. “It’s fine. They’re only staring because they’ve never seen someone worthy beside me before.”

He blinked—confused and I walked on with my head high…while every whisper followed us like sparks trailing behind a comet.

Because tonight—the princess did not enter the ballroom alone. She entered with a man who made the entire empire forget to breathe.

At the grand staircase, Haldor released my hand and bowed, stepping back with flawless military precision.

And then—Papa stepped forward.

The empire’s tyrant king in full golden regalia. He extended his hand to me, pride burning in his eyes like a rising sun. I placed my hand in his—lightly, respectfully—while the entire ballroom watched, breathless.

Haldor stood behind me, settling into his position to the left—and on his right… stood Osric.

Papa and I descended the stairs together. When we reached the final step, I turned toward the gathering of nobles—thousands of jewels glittering, silks rustling, fans trembling.

And in perfect, synchronized motion—They bowed.

Heads lowered. Crowns dipped. Capes swept the marble floor.

A single, unified voice echoed: “We greet Her Highness, the Crown Princess.”

I smiled, steady and commanding.”Raise.”

The nobles rose—elegance layered upon tension, admiration sharpened by envy.

Papa took a champagne glass from a passing servant. He did not simply raise it. He claimed the room with it.

His voice thundered through the hall:

“As you all know… this event was organized to honor my daughter.”

Silence fell instantly.

“My Lavinia,” he continued, gaze sweeping the crowd like a blade, “won her first war. She conquered the Kingdom of Meren—in one month.”

Several nobles swallowed hard.

“She led armies. She made enemies kneel. She brought glory to Eloria.”

Papa paused—his expression sharpening, dangerous.

“And she did so with the support of loyal pillars of this empire: Grand Duke Osric, General Arwin, Colonel Zerith, Captain Haldor Valethorn, and every soldier who bled for Eloria.”

His voice darkened, carrying that ruthless edge only a tyrant king possesses:

“Remember this night. Remember who protects this empire. Remember who leads you. And remember who will rule after me.”

A tremor rippled through the ballroom.

Then—Papa lifted his glass high.

“To my daughter,” he declared, voice echoing like thunder, “Crown Princess Lavinia Devereux—the empire’s future. Its sword. Its sovereign.”

He smirked—proud, dangerous, unshakable.

“Cheers.”

Crystal chimed like falling stars as everyone raised their glasses.

“Congratulations, Your Highness!”

The hall erupted with applause strong enough to shake the chandeliers.

And tonight… I feel like something is going to change forever.