Too Lazy to be a Villainess novel Chapter 201

Chapter 201: Who Are You?

[Lavinia’s Pov—Training Field—Continuation]

The training grounds still reeked of iron and sweat when silence finally returned. The servants, visitors and knights dispersed in hushed murmurs, their eyes darting between the blood on the dirt and the girl who had spilled it.

I sheathed my sword with a sharp click, forcing my breath to steady even as my heart thundered. Victory should have tasted sweet. Instead, it burned bitter on my tongue.

Behind me, Osric hissed softly as the physician cinched the bandages around his arm. His gaze never wavered, fixed on me—unyielding, heavy, as though he could tether me to the earth with nothing but his will.

"Your Highness," Sir Aldric’s voice broke the silence, cautious, as if afraid to awaken the storm simmering beneath my skin. "Should we... report this matter to His Majesty?"

My red eyes swept toward him, sharp as drawn steel. "No."

The word cracked through the air like a whip, silencing every whisper. My tone was cold and unbending as I stepped closer. "Papa has weightier burdens than petty squabbles. Matters such as these... " I let my smirk curl slow and dangerous. "... I can crush on my own."

Sir Aldric dipped his head but I wasn’t finished. I flicked my gaze toward the shattered remains of Osric’s armor. "That safety plating was no accident. I want you to dig into it—quietly. Every craftsman, every coin, every name tied to its making. Leave no stone unturned."

He bowed low. "As you command, Your Highness."

Only then did I turn to Osric. His lips parted as though to speak, but I silenced him with a glance before striding forward. Without hesitation, I caught his injured hand in mine.

"You’re coming with me."

And just like that, before another soul could intervene, we vanished from the field—my grip tight around him.

***

[Dawnspire Wing—Imperial Palace—Inner Garden—Later]

The corridors swallowed us whole, the noise of the training grounds fading until only the sound of our footsteps and Osric’s uneven breathing remained. I didn’t stop until we reached the quiet shade of the inner garden, where no eyes dared intrude.

There, I turned sharply and pulled him into my arms.

Osric stiffened for a breath, then melted against me, his warmth grounding the storm still raging in my chest. My grip was fierce—too fierce perhaps—but I couldn’t loosen it. Not when the sight of his blood still painted my vision.

"It was just a scratch," he murmured with a crooked smile, his uninjured hand rising to pat my back gently. As though comforting a child. As though I hadn’t nearly slit a man’s throat in front of half the court.

I pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, my red gaze burning into his. "A scratch?" My voice dripped with venom, the kind that made men tremble. "I don’t like my people bleeding, Osric. Not for me. Not for anyone."

My fingers clenched tighter around his sleeve, over the bandages beneath. "Every drop they make you and Papa shed feels like a crime against me. And crimes against me..." I let the words trail, my lips curving into something cruel and tender all at once. "...I answer with heads on pikes."

For a moment, silence hung between us, heavy and dangerous. Then Osric chuckled softly—reckless, fearless—as if my threat to butcher men was the sweetest vow he’d ever heard.

"You’ll terrify the whole Empire if you keep talking like that," he said, eyes gleaming with that quiet devotion I could never shake.

"Good," I whispered, my forehead pressing against his, my breath brushing his lips. "Let them tremble. So long as you smile only for me."

Then, slowly, Osric’s hand came up, calloused thumb brushing softly over my cheek. The gesture was careful and reverent, as if I were something fragile—something precious. His gaze lingered there, unwavering, his eyes drinking me in like I was the most beautiful moment he’d ever seen.

My breath hitched. The battlefield, the blood, the fury—gone. All that remained was his touch, his warmth, and the dangerous hammering of my heart.

Then, in that deep, steady voice of his, he asked, "Lavi..."

"Hmm?"

"May I kiss you?"

The words slammed into me harder than any blade ever could. My cheeks went crimson. I—Lavinia Devereux, future Empress of the Empire—suddenly felt my head bobbing like some awkward duck at the pond. Up, down, up, down—completely ridiculous, completely out of my control.

His lips curved into a smile before he leaned in—slow, deliberate, giving me every chance to pull away. I didn’t. I couldn’t.

I closed my eyes. Prepared for my first ever kiss.

And then—

SMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOCH!!!

Except... he didn’t kiss me. Oh no. He attacked. He didn’t land softly on my lips or gently on my cheek. He latched on like a starving man. My entire cheek disappeared into his mouth.

I froze. Stunned. Dumbfounded. My entire body locked as my brain tried to process the betrayal.

"W...What...WHAT WAS THAT!!!!!!!!!!!????"

He chuckled.

Meanwhile, I, with all the wounded dignity of a princess wronged, shoved at his chest and wailed, "Y–YOU... DID YOU JUST TRY TO SWALLOW ME WHOLE?!"

Osric, this traitor boyfriend, he laughed. Actually laughed—deep, unrestrained, the sound rumbling from his chest.

I narrowed my eyes, still pouting furiously, but my heart betrayed me with how fast it raced. "Hmph. Next time," I mumbled, glaring at the ground, "aim for my lips, not my skull."

***

[Lavinia’s Chamber—Night]

Right. I’d completely forgotten. A flicker of amusement tugged my lips.

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