Too Lazy to be a Villainess novel Chapter 225

Chapter 225: History’s Eyes

[Lavinia’s POV — Imperial Palace, Moonlit Corridor]

We walked away from the throne room and the doors slammed shut behind us with a thunder that swallowed the last of the nobles’ whispers. The corridor yawned, long and empty, broken only by Papa’s measured boots and the soft scrape of Marshi’s claws on marble.

The Divine Benediction.

Teacher Evelyn’s lessons replayed in my head like a hymn half-remembered: older than the first emperor’s crown, older than any family name stitched into the tapestry of our empire.

Before kingdoms rose and bloodlines were sewn, the temple stood taller—an older thing that had witnessed everything. The first emperor did not sit on the throne until the god beneath that altar had seen his hands and judged them.

From then on, the Benediction fell like a shadow over every heir: a test, a claim, a story the world could not ignore.

I stole a glance at Papa as the torches flared along the corridor. "Papa," I said quietly, "did you go through it? The Benediction?"

He was quiet for a moment, the only sound the distant clank of boots behind us. When he answered, his voice was flat but careful. "Yes. But not before I took the throne. I bent that knee after the empire was mine."

Well...since Papa wiped out his own family and seized the throne, I could guess why he knelt after he claimed it.

"Then, do you think the ritual is...necessary, Papa? Or is it just superstition—incense and theater?"

Papa paused, eyes narrowing at something I could not see.

"There are many things, Lavi, that sound foolish if you only listen with the ears of the living," he said slowly. "Customs, omens, prayers—these are the bones by which people hang their faith. But just because something sounds ridiculous does not mean it is empty." 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

He stopped and looked at me, his face softer than it had been all night. The emperor’s mask slipped for a breath, revealing the father beneath. "The temple has watched empires rise and crack like clay. It has kept vigil over men who burned and those who were consumed. When we bow there, we bow to history—yes—but we also bow to something that once mended me."

My heart stalled.

He reached out and his hand found the curve of my shoulder, heavy with command and, for once, something warmer.

"When I lost...when I thought everything I had built was crumbling, it was this child—this stubborn, furious child—who gave me back a heart worth keeping."

I blinked. The words landed oddly—off-script, intimate in a way the throne room never allowed. "You mean... the gods?" I asked, though something in the pitch of his voice told me there was more.

He let out a small, humorless laugh. "No. You." His gaze met mine—flat, undeniable. "You are what I had lost. You are the reason the empire matters to me again, Lavi. The Benediction will ask of you. It will test. But know this, my dear," his voice dropped to a hush that felt like confession, "in its eyes, you will not be merely Cassius’s heir. You will be your own storm. And I—" he paused, thumb brushing once over my cloak, "I will be there. Because you are the reason I do not let this empire fall."

The corridor hummed with echoes as his words settled in me. Not a father’s indulgence. Not a ruler’s command. A vow.

I lifted my chin. The Benediction was no longer just history or politics. It had become a promise between us—one that would bind me to the gods, to the throne, and to the man who had taught me how to be ruthless enough to rule.

I straightened, feeling the weight of his words settle into my spine like armor. "Then I will kneel on my terms, Papa. I will bow to that history, to the First Emperor, to the one who gave me the best father in the world."

His eyes softened for the tiniest fraction of a breath. He stepped forward and pressed a quick kiss to my forehead.

"Good. That’s my daughter," he murmured.

And just like that—the gears began to turn.

***

[Imperial Palace—Cassius’s Chamber—The Next Day]

I stretched my arms high above my head until my shoulders popped. "Yaaawn... I slept like a panda today," I muttered, rolling onto my side.

Marshi, perched at the foot of the bed, gave a solemn nod as though my panda state had been decreed imperial law. His claws clicked once against the marble before settling.

The heavy doors creaked open, and the knight stationed outside entered—helm tucked beneath his arm. Sir Haldor, captain of the Imperial Knights, dropped to one knee and bowed, voice steady as steel.

"Greetings, Your Highness."

I slid off the bed and curled into the couch, reaching for my tea. The steam curled around my face as I lifted it to my lips. "How are you, Sir Haldor?"

He rose with military precision, but a faint smile tugged at his mouth. "Thank you, Your Highness. I have been well."

I smirked over the rim of my cup. "Such heavy words, first thing in the morning."

Sir Haldor blinked once. "It’s evening, Your Highness."

...

...

I arched a brow. "...But you thought about it."

I narrowed my eyes, squinting at him long enough for sweat to bead at his temple. He glanced away—very deliberately studying the wall, the floor, the ceiling, anywhere but me.

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