Too Lazy to be a Villainess novel Chapter 137

Chapter 137: Thorns Around a Throne

[Osric’s POV]

[Everheart Estate]

"Did the messengers arrive?" My voice cut through the silence as I fastened the last strap of my cloak.

Hadrien appeared at my side with a bow. "No, my lord. The investigator hasn’t sent word yet."

I paused, fingers resting on the polished silver clasp.

"...Hmm. It’s taking too long."

Hadrien’s sigh was long-suffering—the kind of sound someone makes when they’re used to your impossible standards but still holding onto the hope you might grow patience like a garden herb.

"My lord... You only gave him two days."

I turned, raising a brow. "And?"

Hadrien folded his hands in front of him. "You tasked him with reviewing every attack on the Crown Princess. Every security breach. Every suspicious death, accident, or vanishing maid since she was born. That’s nearly two decades of sealed records, half of which are probably hidden under noble bribes and bureaucratic cobwebs. It takes time."

"Tch," I muttered, adjusting my gloves. "Looks like I found another useless investigator."

"My lord..."

"Find someone else."

"My lord," he said, a bit more urgently this time. "At least give him ten days."

I paused. Turned.

He was staring at me like I’d just threatened to burn down the royal archives with a single candle. There was pleading in his expression.

Genuine, quiet pleading.

I exhaled slowly. "...Alright. Ten days."

Relief flooded his face. "Thank you, my lord."

"But if he doesn’t bring me answers," I warned, slipping my sword into its sheath, "I’ll personally drag him through the Everheart mines until he finds them. And make him read every page aloud."

"Understood," Hadrien said, trying very hard not to smile.

I stepped past him, heading toward the corridor. My boots clicked softly against the polished stone.

Since the nightmares began... there were two faces that kept returning in blood and shadow.

Marquess Everett. And Caelum.

Always lurking. Always watching. Always standing too close to Princess Lavinia. If these dreams truly were prophecy—as I feared—then every past attack on the princess might be more than coincidence.

And if I’m right...

If the patterns align...

Then Marquess Everett isn’t just dangerous.

He’s treasonous.

And Caelum?

That snake is already coiled too close to the throne.

Too close to her.

Always lurking around her. Always smiling that rehearsed, empty smile beside the princess. Always speaking with the kind of polished charm that masks a blade.

I’ve seen men like him. They don’t swing swords.

They poison wells.

And yet... there’s something even more unsettling than his presence.

Something I haven’t said out loud.

The Emperor knows.

I can feel it. His majesty... Emperor Cassius Devereux may be many things—unforgiving, merciless, terrifying on a bad day—but he is not blind.

So why?

Why allow Caelum to remain by Princess Lavinia’s side?

Why allow him to duel with her every single day?

Why give permission for a confrontation that could’ve gone very, very wrong?

The more I think about it, the more it knots in my chest like a tangled noose. One I can’t unravel.

"Sigh... everything feels messier than it should be," I mumbled under my breath.

As I passed through the marble corridor toward the exit hall, familiar voices drifted toward me.

Loud ones.

"GODS—THAT IDIOT! HE’S BANNED EVERY ROMANTIC CANDIDATE FROM THE IMPERIAL PALACE!"

That was Father. Shouting, again.

I turned the corner to find him waving a rolled-up document like a battle flag. Across from him, Grandfather Gregor sat calmly in the courtyard gazebo, sipping tea with all the serenity of a man watching a staged opera.

"He’s just protecting his child, and he didn’t ban Theon and Lady Evelyn," Grandpa Gregor said without looking up, his tone as dry as the winter vineyards.

"But he made sure...she interacts with them less. If this continues," Father huffed, collapsing into a chair beside him, "the princess is going to stay single until she’s seventy."

"Hahaha..." Grandfather chuckled. "I never imagined him turning into that kind of father. But... he was always unpredictable under pressure. And parenthood, dear boy, is pressure distilled."

I stepped into the light, drawing their attention.

Father noticed first.

"You’re leaving already?" he asked, eyebrows rising.

I nodded once. "Yes. The princess is expecting me."

He leaned back in his seat, arms crossed. "Hmph. Loyal as ever."

Then—something shifted in his face. The teasing dropped for just a moment, replaced by a flicker of quiet pride. The kind I rarely saw from him unless I returned from a successful campaign or refused to die in a duel.

"You did good, Osric," he said. "By taking that oath. I may not understand why you did it... but I’m proud of you."

That surprised me.

A little.

Not because I needed his approval.

But because... maybe I did.

Just a little.

I nodded. "Thank you, Father."

***

[Imperial Palace, Later...]

To her.

The oversized divine beast of a cat, with a tail that twitched like it had royal blood, rested his fluffy head on her lap as she absentmindedly stroked his ears. He looked like he had ascended into paradise.

Breathing in the quiet kind of calm that only she seemed to carry with her.

But gods—she was beautiful. In the kind of way stories never get right. In the kind of way that makes the world feel less cruel for just... existing near her.

"Shall we go for a duel?" Caelum’s voice cut through the air like a fork on a porcelain plate.

If I had the authority, I’d throw him out of the palace. No—out of the empire. Preferably catapulted.

"Nope. I’m on break."

Caelum blinked. "Break?"

She popped the whole macaron in her mouth, chewed dramatically, then nodded with full seriousness. "Yes. Life break. Emotionally on vacation. Spiritually off-duty. Mentally... resigned. You know, the usual."

He blinked again. "You say that like you’ve been slaving away in a mine."

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