Too Lazy to be a Villainess novel Chapter 122

Chapter 122: Only the Emperor Enters

[Emperor Cassius’s POV]

The air changed the moment we crossed into Elorian soil.

It wasn’t just the temperature or the scent of spring blooming across the high plains—it was something deeper. Heavier. A weight that pressed into my bones like an old scar kissed by wind.

The kind only Home carries.

After three long, blood-drenched years, I was finally back. Behind me stretched a trail of broken cities and kingdoms that no longer remembered their own names. Their banners—torn and faded—flapped like ghosts in the wind.

But none of it mattered now.

Only one name burned in my mind like a war drum echoing through silence.

Lavinia.

My daughter. My fire.

She would be ten in five days.

I wondered... Had she grown taller? I wonder how much she changed.

But... 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

No matter.

No matter how tall she had become. No matter how regal they’d made her walk or how polished her tongue had grown...

I just wanted her to run to me. To leap into my arms and crush my ribs with a hug.

"Your Majesty," Ravick’s voice pulled me back, low and cautious beside me. "We’re two leagues from the palace. Shall I ride ahead? Announce our return?"

I shook my head. Slow. Deliberate.

"No."

He frowned. "No?"

I turned to him, voice like granite.

"I want to see her face. Before protocol strangles it into something I won’t recognize."

Ravick didn’t question it. He simply nodded.

He knew better.

The road narrowed as we approached the capital. Lined with people on both sides—peasants, merchants, nobles—all kneeling, their heads bowed in fear or reverence. Or both. I couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

My armor was still stained with the filth of battle. Blood dried into its seams like it belonged there. I hadn’t changed, hadn’t polished my sword, and hadn’t even bothered to hide the burnt silver ring of the Irethene priest that swung like a cursed medal from my saddle.

Cassius the Conqueror.

Cassius the Tyrant.

Cassius the Father.

Let them pick whichever title terrified them most.

A warhorn rang out from the citadel.

The palace gates began to creak open—tall, golden, monstrous things carved with centuries of triumph and sacrifice. And there, she stood.

Lavinia.

My heart staggered in my chest. She was... taller. Her hair was longer, tied back with imperial ribbons. She grew a little taller too.

But I knew her.

I knew those eyes.

I knew that fire.

And I knew—knew—that she would run to me. That she would break formation and tear down those steps into my arms like she had when she was seven. So I dismounted without hesitation. Dropped to one knee on the cobbled path.

Spread my arms wide, waiting.

Come, my flame. Run to me.

And she did.

Her face lit up like sunrise—beaming—and she dashed forward, her skirts lifting in the wind—

And then...

She skidded to a stop.

Right before me.

The courtyard fell into stunned silence. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath. Then—She dipped into a perfect, poised bow. Not a flinch. Not a stumble.

"Welcome back, Imperial Father," she said gracefully.

My heart didn’t break.

It froze.

Silence thundered louder than any war drum. A silence that screamed.

I stared at her. Unmoving. Unblinking.

Imperial father?

Did... did my daughter just call me... Imperial Father?

She stood there, proud and polished like a doll dressed in court obedience. She looked straight at me with bright eyes—eyes that sparkled, waiting for praise.

But I felt no pride.

I felt loss.

I rose to my feet slowly, cloak sweeping behind me like a shadow of disbelief.

My voice was low. Cold. Sharp.

"WHO ARE YOU?"

She blinked.

Froze.

"...What?" she whispered.

But it didn’t take much to find her again—my daughter, not this polished little marble statue they’d carved in my absence.

I just had to bait the flame.

I tilted my head, narrowed my eyes, and let the words fall like embers. "But you’re still short."

That did it.

Her back stiffened like a drawn bowstring. Her lips parted in disbelief.

And then—"EXCUSE ME!"

I smirked—slow and deliberate. Her jaw dropped. Her cheeks puffed.

Then—

She jumped at her feet like a cannonball made of silk and fury. "One day I’ll grow taller than you, and you’ll regret this slander!"

There she was.

My chaos.

Wild and untamed and perfect.

***

[Present Day—Sitting Room]

And now... she stood before me with her arms crossed, a serious little storm bottled in a ten-year-old frame.

Her eyes narrowed. "I heard the rumors, Papa."

I tilted my head, squinting at her. "What rumors?"

She sighed with the weight of someone twice her age. "That you’re naming Irethene as the Lavinia Empire."

I didn’t answer right away.

Instead, I glared across the table at Regis, who was—very deliberately—sipping tea in front of me like he hadn’t just whispered my plan at my daughter’s ears.

He met my glare with a smile. Unfazed. Bastard.

"I should have him beheaded," I muttered.

"Did you say something, Your Majesty?" Regis asked, mock-innocent, lifting his cup like we were discussing poetry.

She shrugged, chewing. "Papa, I know you love me so much that you’d burn down entire kingdoms for me—"

"—and I think that’s very sweet and scary, but... Lavinia Empire?" She tilted her head. "It sounds weird. A little too much. Kind of like I’m some... divine deity rising from the ashes of your enemies."

Embarrassing.

"Who told you that?" I asked, my voice dropping an octave lower. "Tell me who said it sounds embarrassing. Tell me, and I’ll personally carve out their tongue and hang it from the main gate."

Across the room, Ravick unsheathed his sword—without a word, ready to execute on the spot. Loyal to a fault.

"I SAID IT."

"Just saying, Papa," she said through crumbs. "Maybe something like Elorian East? Or New Valorin? Something grown-up sounding. Not like... ’Lavinia Empire,’ which sounds like a boutique for imperial dresses."

"You are the most infuriating gift the gods have ever given me."

I stared at her. So, she already knew I’d say yes.

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