Too Lazy to be a Villainess novel Chapter 21

Chapter 21: Like Father, Like Daughter

The waiting room was cold.

Not in the "oh no, my tiny baby toes are freezing" way—though, admittedly, my toes were a bit chilly—but in the "I think someone’s about to faint from sheer intimidation" kind of cold.

I sat securely on Papa’s lap—very used to this spot by now—his large hand resting firmly around my middle, holding me like a precious, dangerous artifact.

We were both staring at the same unfortunate souls across from us.

Grand Duke Regis. And next to him, him—Osric Valerius Everhart. He was practically trying to fold himself behind the Grand Duke’s chair, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

I stared. No blinking. No drooling. Just an expressionless, eight-month-old glare. Papa was doing the exact same thing.

Honestly, it was funny how we matched. Same cold eyes. Same "I could end you" aura.

Except Papa’s came with actual military power, and mine... well, mine came with excellent posture and chubby cheeks. But I like to think I radiate more danger, right?

Behind us stood the usual trio: Nanny, Marella, and Theon. Silent. Stiff. I could practically hear them holding their breath. The tension in the room was thicker than the porridge I refused at breakfast.

Grand Duke Regis finally smirked, his voice cutting through the ice. "You both look alike."

Papa scoffed, voice sharp. "She is my daughter. My blood. Of course we look alike."

I gave a solemn nod. Damn right, we do.

But before I could properly sink deeper into Papa’s lap like the pampered royalty I am, he suddenly stood up, still holding me.

What.

What happened, Papa?!

I blinked up at him, momentarily stunned. My tiny feet dangled in the air like betrayed noodles.

Grand Duke Regis chuckled, leaning back, lazy. "Truly, who would have thought? The tyrant emperor turned into a doting father. You’ve changed, alot."

Papa gave him the kind of look that could sink ships. "Shut up."

Then, horror of horrors, Papa crouched down to my level and took both my small hands firmly in his.

Oh no. I knew this routine. It was Walking Time.

Can I not get a moment of peace? I JUST crawled across the entire royal garden like an underpaid servant. My legs were jelly, my will to live—questionable. But alas, I said nothing. I couldn’t say anything.

What can a mere baby do against an emperor?

So, I gave up and shuffled forward. Step by tiny, clumsy step. Papa guided me like I was a porcelain doll. And I could feel Osric’s eyes on me. I glanced up mid-wobble and shot him another glare.

WHAT! Haven’t seen a beautiful baby walk before?!

Papa’s eyes flicked to Osric, sharp as daggers. "Didn’t I tell you not to bring your son here?"

Grand Duke Regis smiled lazily. "Oh, c’mon. I want our kids to be friends."

Papa’s gaze didn’t waver. "But I don’t. I do not want an unknown boy hanging around my daughter."

"He’s my son—"

"Still a boy."

The room went quiet. Even the air seemed to freeze.

I kept walking like a tragic hero, each step feeling heavier under the weight of parental politics. Papa murmured, "Careful," as though a single misstep would bring national disgrace.

Finally, after what felt like a marathon, Papa released me onto the ground. FREEDOM.

I plopped down immediately. Seconds later, my toy box was handed to me like a prized treasure. I picked up my favorite wooden horse, chewing its ear while keeping an eye on the enemy.

Osric.

He was still staring. Wide-eyed. Curious. Like he wanted to join me.

Grand Duke Regis leaned down to him, smiling warmly. "Do you want to play with her?"

I froze. My toy froze. Even the horse looked concerned.

Papa’s voice cut through like ice. "No. He cannot."

Thank you, Papa. Solidarity.

"But they’re kids," Grand duke Regis insisted. "Let them play."

Papa scoffed and didn’t say anything.

Grand Duke Regis smirked and turned to Osric, nodding like a villain in a fairy tale, encouraging him. Osric hesitated. Then, cautiously, he slid down from his seat and walked toward me.

I tightened my grip on the horse.

What. WHAT.

Sir. Sir, do not touch my toys. I’m warning you.

He stopped a foot away, eyes flicking to my toy pile like a man considering stealing a dragon’s hoard. Papa glared. I glared. Even the air inside the room glared.

Osric reached one hand out toward my wooden blocks.

Excuse me?! I slapped his hand away with my tiny hands.

...

Osric froze, his wide, watery eyes locked onto mine like I’d just slapped not his hand, but his entire existence. The room felt heavier, tenser, like a thunderstorm was about to break loose—not outside, no, inside this fancy cold waiting room.

Then....

"Princess Lavinia..." Nanny called sweetly, but with that dangerous edge, crouching down until we were eye-level. Her finger wagged in front of my face. "We do not slap our guests’ hands away."

I blinked up at her, innocent. Me? Slap? I would never. (Except, I totally just did.)

"You mustn’t be doing this, Your Highness. Sharing toys helps us make friends," Nanny added firmly, giving me that look. The one that promised fewer sweets and an earlier fairy tale story if I didn’t behave.

Ugh. Betrayal.

Nanny turned to Osric and gave him her award-winning warm smile. "I’m sorry, Young Lord. The Princess is a bit shy. She only shares her toys with her friends. Maybe... maybe the two of you can be friends, hm?"

I, meanwhile, was seething. Shy?! I was not shy—I was territorial.

This cry baby, he... just wanted to steal my nanny. Acting all innocent. I will make sure you regret it. I will never ever be his friend. I was all determined. But—

Suddenly, I realized that if I didn’t "be friends" with this block-thieving invader, I might lose dessert privileges for a week.

I turned back to my toy pile, picked up one wooden block, and graciously shoved it toward Osric.

There. Play with that. As if offering him a crumb off my royal banquet.

One wrong move, kid. One wrong move, and I’m slapping your hand again—friend or not.

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