Too Lazy to be a Villainess novel Chapter 141

Chapter 141: The Father Who Fears, The Daughter Who Falls

[Cassius’s POV][Dawnspire Wing – Lavinia’s Chamber – Moments After]

Physicians moved like a wave around her—robes flaring, hands glowing, murmuring incantations, uncorking vials. The air reeked of incense and panic. Magic circles shimmered beneath her bed like woven threads of light and desperation.

And still... I couldn’t move.

I stood there—unable to take one step toward my daughter.

Because she was lying too still.

That stillness... I never wanted to see. My fists clenched, nails biting into skin. My eyes refused to blink, afraid she’d vanish if I dared look away.

And then—

The doors burst open.

A voice, broken with fear:"MY PRECIOUS!"

Thalein entered...Lavinia’s grandfather.

He swept in, flanked by Lavinia’s two cousins. They stormed past the stunned physicians like a hurricane of ancient magic and fury.

Thalein’s eyes landed on Lavinia—and in the next breath, he was at her side.

"Lavi... no, no, no—what happened?!" he choked, kneeling beside her. His trembling hand took hers, brushing hair from her forehead. "Why is she so pale...? Her spirit—it’s flickering—"

"Later," I said—harshly. Too harsh. But it was all I had.

"We can talk about what happened later, Thalein. Right now..." My voice cracked. I swallowed it down. "Please. You’re one in this cursed realm who can pull her back... it’s you."

He stared at me, then at her.

Then... he nodded.

His palms were lit with a faint green glow, warm and humming like life itself, and he pressed them gently against Lavinia’s chest.

Theon approached, hesitant. "Your Majesty... do you think this will help prin—"

"It will."

Theon fell silent.

Then, softer—grim—measured—I said, "...She hasn’t vanished yet."

I turned away from the bed... and looked toward the corner of the room.

Where he sat.

Marshmallow.

The divine beast. Her companion. Her guardian. Her tether. He didn’t cry. Didn’t move. He just... watched.

Quietly. Calmly. Like he knew something we didn’t.

I walked toward him, slowly, the way you approach something sacred. My boots echoed against the marble floor.

Everyone’s eyes followed me.

"A divine beast is bound to their master," I said quietly, kneeling before him. "And when their master dies... they vanish. Not fade. Not linger. They cease to exist."

I reached out. Laid a hand on his head.

He blinked once. Pressed into my palm.

"But he’s still here," I murmured. "He’s still here, watching her. Guarding her."

I looked up. Straight at Thalein.

"And I know... he would rip the very threads of fate apart to keep her in this world."

Thalein closed his eyes and let out a breath. "Then I will, too," he whispered. "I’ll call on every ancestor. Every root. Every star."

His magic pulsed brighter.

And I turned to face the one person who still believed in her, even in this near-death quiet.

"...Don’t let her go," I whispered to Marshmallow. "Please..."

Marshmallow’s ears twitched.

And for the first time since she fell...

His tail flicked.

Just once.

As if to say:

"I will bring her back"

***

[Lavinia’s POV]

[?? Palace – Somewhere Very Definitely Not Normal]

Ughhh... My throat burns.

Like, someone poured lava, bleach, and heartbreak down it.

I groaned. Everything hurt—my limbs, my ribs, even my dramatic soul. And don’t even get me started on my back, like I’d been tossed off a cliff by a vengeful ex-god.

My eyes fluttered open to...

...black marble walls.

Golden torches flickering like someone had installed mood lighting for a funeral. And a ceiling so high, it gave me a neck cramp just thinking about looking up.

I blinked once. Twice.

"Huh...?"

I sat up slowly, coughing a bit. My voice came out hoarse and croaky. "Gods, my throat burns. Like, is this what swallowing betrayal tastes like?"

Silence answered.

I looked around, blinking faster now. My heart skipped.

"Wait. Wait—wait—wait... WHERE THE HECK AM I?"

No windows.

No doors.

Just this gothic Pinterest-board palace and a big open hall that felt like it had hosted at least six ancient blood rituals and one poorly managed wedding.

I rubbed my temples. "Okay, okay. Chill. Calm down, Lavinia. Is this one of those reincarnation loops again? Am I having a post-poison fever dream?"

I sat cross-legged on the cold floor, smoothed out my gown, and did what any mature poisoned princess would do.

I pouted.

"Alright. I got poisoned." I stated flatly, like I was giving a school presentation. "By that maid—yes, the one who trembled like a leaf and fled like her skirt was on fire."

I sighed dramatically, tossing my hair like I was auditioning for a ghost-themed drama.

"And here I was, thinking it’d be Caelum who’d poison me. But no. Plot twist. We can’t predict anything anymore. This story’s changing faster than the weather in my past life. Rain. Sun. Thunderstorm. Boom. Poison. Drama."

I tilted my head. Frowned.

"But seriously though... where the absolute living fluff am I?!"

I flopped onto the ground, limbs splayed like I was posing for my own crime scene photo. "Am I dead? Am I in a coma? Is this hell? Heaven? Is this the queue outside the gates of reincarnation? Like, can someone please give me a sign?"

No answer.

Just more torches.

Then—I noticed it.

A mirror.

Tall. Ornate. Suspicious. Just... there. In the corner, like it had been waiting for its cue in my personal horror movie.

I sat up. Eyed it warily. "Okay. Who the heck put a cursed mirror in here? Is this Squid Game or Silent Hill?"

I stood up on wobbly feet, brushing off invisible dirt with royal flair. I walked toward the mirror.

And what I saw made me—but still not me.

Freeze.

I blinked.

Then squinted.

Then blinked again.

It wasn’t me in the reflection. No crown. No divine-goddess hair. No expensive embroidery or regal posture.

Just... an ordinary girl.

A girl with round cheeks. Uneven bangs. Crooked glasses. Chapped lips.

... my past self.... Reina Suzuki.

. . .

. . .

. . .

I clutched my chest like I’d been stabbed. "Why did no one tell me? Look at those bangs! Were they cut with safety scissors?! My skincare routine was a war crime—"

The moment my fingers grazed the glass, it sucked me in like I was a spaghetti noodle.

Into something I definitely, absolutely did not sign up for.

THUD.

The Imperial Palace was in front of me.

Everything looked the same—but felt wrong. The night air was heavy. Too still. Too thick. The wind didn’t whisper like it used to. There were no guards, no lamps, and no music echoing from distant ballrooms. Just the scent of...

Blood.

Papa.

Something was wrong.

The man before me—he wore Papa’s cloak. His sword. His stance. But the man I knew was alive behind his eyes. Fierce. Brilliant. Blazing with command.

His gaze was fixed upward, empty. Cold. Void of everything that made him Emperor Cassius. Void of everything that made him my father.

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