Too Lazy to be a Villainess novel Chapter 237

Chapter 237: A Truth Waiting to Be Read

[Imperial Forest —On the Road to the Temple—Lavinia’s POV]

The forest still smelled of smoke and scorched earth, though the last assassin’s body had already been dragged away by the knights. The air should have been lighter now, relieved of danger. But instead, it pressed down heavier than ever.

Not because of the vipers in silk. Not because of the crown I would soon wear.

But because of Rey.

He stood there, his palm still faintly warm from where it had rested on my shoulder, his eyes flickering with something he hadn’t meant to show. Something raw. Something dangerous.

"Who are you, Rey?" My voice was sharper than I intended, the question clawing through my chest like a restless beast.

He froze, the usual careless curve of his mouth faltering, his composure cracking like porcelain.

Just then, Sera rushed forward with a first-aid kit in hand, her braid swinging behind her. "Princess, I brought the—" She stopped short, her eyes widening as they fell on my shoulder. "Wait... the wound. It’s... it’s gone?"

Her hands hovered over me, searching, almost frantic. "But how?"

I turned my gaze from her to Rey, my stare unwavering. "Rey healed it," I said deliberately, each word sharp as glass. "With magic."

Sera’s head snapped toward him. "Magic? That’s impossible! How could you—?"

"Exactly." My voice cut across hers, low but demanding. "That’s what I want to know. How, Rey?"

His jaw tightened, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. Instead of answering me, he glanced toward Papa.

Papa’s gaze was a blade of its own, calm but laced with calculation. After a long silence, his lips curved—not into a smile, but into something that silenced the air around us.

"We’ll discuss this later," he said smoothly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "For now, we are already late. Move."

"But Papa—" I started, the protest spilling out before I could stop it.

"Lavinia." His voice dropped lower, firm, iron-willed. "We are late."

The weight of his tone pinned me in place. My mouth pressed shut, though my eyes still burned holes into Rey’s. Finally, I turned and followed Papa back to the carriage, my chest coiling with unspoken questions.

Behind me, Sera lingered, narrowing her eyes at Rey. "You healed her," she whispered sharply, as if trying to force the truth out of him. "How? What are you hiding?"

Rey exhaled, his usual flippant smirk sliding back into place like armor. He laid a hand on her shoulder and bent slightly closer. "You and the princess," he murmured with a sigh that almost sounded amused, "ask far too many questions."

"And you," Sera snapped back, her voice colder than usual, "never answer any of them."

For a moment, the two locked eyes—her suspicion against his mystery. Then, without another word, they both climbed into the carriage after us.

But I knew one thing. Rey’s secret wasn’t going to stay buried forever. And just like that, we rode towards the temple.

***

[Temple of Oaths—Lavinia’s POV]

The carriage wheels crunched against the stone path as we finally drew to a halt. Ravick was the first to step down, his broad frame cutting a sharp figure as he opened the door with a formal bow.

I stepped out, my gaze immediately drawn upward.

The temple loomed before us, carved from pale stone that had weathered centuries yet refused to crumble. Its high spires reached toward the heavens, streaked with moss and time, while intricate runes—some faded, some still glowing faintly—ran along the walls like veins of memory.

It was... beautiful.

And yet, beneath its quiet majesty, I could feel the weight it carried. This was no innocent sanctuary. These walls had seen blood spill upon their steps, vows sworn in desperation, and betrayals sealed with a kiss of steel. They had watched generations come and go, kings and emperors rise and fall.

And still, the temple endured—serene, unyielding.

The air around it was unnervingly calm, like the hush of a battlefield before the clash or the silence of a storm gathering at the horizon. For a moment, the chaos of assassins and of Rey’s unsettling magic all felt very far away.

A line of priests awaited us at the entrance, clad in flowing white robes embroidered with golden thread. High Priest Calvein then stepped forward, his back slightly bent with age but his presence still commanding.

He bowed low, his voice carrying a solemn echo that seemed to reverberate against the stone walls.

"Your Majesty. Your Highness." His eyes, sharp despite his years, shifted from Papa to me. "The temple welcomes you. May its sanctity bear witness to your oath."

Papa gave a curt nod, his expression unreadable as ever. I followed his lead, dipping my head slightly, though I couldn’t help but glance around again—at the worn statues of forgotten saints, the weathered murals of battles long past, and the heavy doors carved with images of fire and crowns.

The Divine Library.

Then Rey spoke. His voice was soft, but it cut through the air like a blade. "What about those... who lived twice?"

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