Too Lazy to be a Villainess novel Chapter 161

Chapter 161: Thread of Fate

[Cassius’s POV—Years Ago, Southern Front, The Day It All Began]

[When Irethene attacked Elorian’s southern border]

It all began the day I left for the southern front—the day I turned my back on Lavinia. The day I unknowingly walked into the hands of gods... and monsters.

Towards the War.

I stood before the command tent, the early morning sun breaking over the war-scarred hills. The banners above our camp barely stirred. Even the wind, it seemed, held its breath.

"Everything is ready?" I asked, eyes narrowed on the path beyond.

Ravick straightened at my side, his voice clipped and steady. "Yes, Your Majesty. Our infiltration agents have entered Irethene’s borders. By nightfall, we’ll know what’s shifting behind their walls."

Regis, leaning at the wall with that same arrogant smirk he wore even in the face of death, added, "Our spies say something’s off. Too quiet. Something’s brewing in Irethene... and it isn’t just steel and soldiers."

I nodded, voice low. "What of their army?"

"Numerous," Ravick said. "But mostly fledglings. Still in training."

I paused, cold suspicion threading through my thoughts. "Sending untrained soldiers to the front lines? That’s not just foolish—that’s desperation."

Regis scoffed, already turning away. "Or sheer stupidity. Seems their new emperor has more pride than brains. But perhaps that’s good news for us."

"Where are you going?"

"To check on the injured. We’ve lost too many veterans already."

He disappeared into the healer’s wing without another word. I watched him go, then turned to Ravick. "You summoned the priests?"

"They’ve arrived," Ravick said. "Already tending to our wounded."

"Good," I muttered. "Let’s go. I want to see how they’re handling the injured."

We made our way toward the medical tents—bleached white cloths soaked red, groans of pain slipping through like whispers of death. The priests moved silently, hands glowing with the power of old gods, muttering blessings in a dozen tongues.

All wore white.

Except one.

My gaze locked on a lone figure robed in deep sapphire blue. He stood unmoving, hands clasped before him as if in prayer—but his presence felt... wrong. Too still. Too silent.

As if he wasn’t healing wounds—but listening.

I leaned toward Ravick, voice low. "That man. In blue. Is he a high priest?"

Regis followed my gaze and muttered, "Possibly. The temples sent their own—he may be from one of the outer sects."

But I wasn’t convinced.

"No insignia. No staff. No crest," I whispered. "He doesn’t look like a priest to me. He looks like trouble."

I was about to approach when Ravick suddenly spoke up. "Your Majesty, a letter has arrived."

I turned sharply. "A letter?"

He nodded. "From the princess. And some... gifts."

My thoughts scattered.

Lavinia.

For a breath, the war faded—the blood, the bodies, the blades—and all I could see was her. My daughter. Too far away. Too young to understand why her father had left.

I took the small bundle from Ravick’s hand.

A box, neatly wrapped but poorly sealed, stuffed with something brittle and crumbling—cookies. Burnt, sad little things that were supposed to smile... but had frowns of ash instead.

I chuckled under my breath.

"She tried to make happy ones..." I murmured, fingers brushing the soot-flaked edges. "They’re terrible. But they’re hers."

And then the letter.

Messy. Words crooked. Ink blotted. The handwriting of a child who tried too hard.

I miss you, Papa. Don’t forget me.

I read it again. Then again. My chest tightened.

"...Her handwriting is a mess," I whispered. "And still... beautiful."

And that was when I heard it.

A voice.

But felt like not one from this world.

"I see..."

I turned sharply. The priest in blue stood behind me now—closer than he had been, eyes veiled in shadow beneath his hood.

"...You’re finally changing her fate."

I froze. The letter is still in my hand.

"...but that’s not enough, Cassius."

I scowled—who is he? And why does he act informally?

My voice dropped, cold and sharp. "Who the hell are you?"

But he didn’t answer my question. Instead, he tilted his head—like he was listening to a sound only he could hear. And then, slowly, deeply—

"It’s time to remember." His voice was low, almost a whisper—but it cut like steel. "Don’t forget... You’re the one who begged me to bring her back. You chose this."

I stood still, every word lodging itself deep in my chest.

"You must protect her—before her fate is stolen again."

And then—He vanished. Gone. Like fog swallowed by wind.

No trace. No sound. No scent. Only the cookies in my hand and a fire rising in my chest.

"Was that a madman?" I hissed under my breath.

I told myself... this was love.

I was neglecting her.

I was breaking her.

I knew everything I believed... every decision I made... every deal, every silence, every distance...

It killed her.

It was me.

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