Too Lazy to be a Villainess novel Chapter 272

Chapter 272: The Tyrant, The Fiancé, and The Strawberry Massacre

[Lavinia’s POV — Outside the Training Hall—Some Days Later]

After successfully convincing Papa to accept my Osric as his son-in-law, I truly believed the universe was finally on my side.

I thought... finally... no more hiding behind the bushes just to steal a kiss. No more ducking behind the marble pillars to exchange secret glances. No more whispering sweet nothings like we were spies committing treason!

We could finally—finally!—love each other openly, freely, gloriously!

But... but... BUT—WHO WOULD HAVE THOUGHT PAPA WOULD SINGLE-HANDEDLY SHATTER EVERY ROMANTIC DREAM I EVER HAD!!!???

CLANG!!! CLANG!!! CLANG!!!

The deafening sound of swords clashing echoed from the training hall like thunderous heartbreak.

"...Tch. With that strength of yours, Osric..." Papa’s cold, tyrannical voice rang out between strikes: "...my daughter will have to protect herself."

My jaw dropped.

He said that after dueling Osric for the fourth time today. Fourth!!! The sun has set three times since he started "training" my poor fiancé, and he still wasn’t done!

And me? I stood outside the hall trembling—not with fear, oh no—but with rage. Boiling, princess-grade, volcanic rage.

My romance life... My beautifully planned, perfectly scripted romance life... Was dying a slow, sword-clashing death right in front of me.

"Let’s begin again," Papa said, stepping back with terrifying composure.

And Osric—my beloved, my gentle idiot—looked excited.

E X C I T E D.

"Of course, Your Majesty!" he said, sweat dripping, eyes shining like a man who just found his life’s purpose.

I almost fainted.

Since when did my sweet, romantic man decide that swordsmanship with my tyrant father was more important than holding hands with me under the moonlight!?

This... this wasn’t a romance anymore. It was a battlefield for my love life!

Every day since Papa accepted him, they’ve been dueling. Every. Single. Day. At first, I thought it was symbolic—some traditional fatherly approval ritual. But no! It became a daily event. Like breakfast. Or breathing.

Papa calls it "training." Osric calls it "an honor."

I call it "THEFT OF MY FIANCÉ."

Honestly! I can’t believe this!

My papa didn’t just protect me... He stole my husband!

I glared at the two of them from the sidelines—Papa’s crimson cape billowing majestically, Osric’s hair sticking to his forehead, both men glowing like they were in some hero-versus-hero epic.

Ugh. My romance turned into an action novel.

When Papa disarmed Osric for the fifth time, I screamed,"PAPA!!! Stop breaking my boyfriend!!"

He didn’t even glance at me. "He’s still breathing, Lavinia. That means training isn’t over."

"BREATHING IS GOOD ENOUGH!!!" I yelled, stomping my foot like the mature adult I am.

Osric just smiled weakly between gasps. "It’s... fine... Lavi... I can handle—"

"YOU CAN’T HANDLE ME IF YOU’RE DEAD!" I snapped.

Papa raised his sword again, completely ignoring me. "If he dies, he’s unworthy anyway."

"PAPA!!!"

Theon, who was leaning by the door sipping tea, whispered to Ravick, "I give it two more duels before she storms the arena."

Ravick sighed. "I give it one."

I clenched my fists. Oh, they knew me too well.

"Your Highness," Sera’s soft voice came from behind me, calm as ever, "do you need... stress-remover cakes?"

I blinked. "Since when did we have such cakes?"

Sera’s lips curved with a faint smile. "Since this morning. The chef made strawberry cakes with extra strawberries—"

"I’ll have them," I interrupted before she could even finish.

Strawberries. Sweet, fluffy, comforting strawberries. If my love life was crumbling, at least my dessert life could still thrive.

She nodded obediently, and I sighed, pressing my palm to my forehead. "I’m going to the office. Bring the cake there."

"As you wish, Your Highness." She left swiftly, and I walked down the marble corridor, trying not to think about the sound of swords clashing behind me.

Papa and Osric could keep dueling all they wanted. I had actual imperial matters to attend to—like keeping the Empire running while my father terrorized my fiancé in the name of love.

Sir Haldor appeared at the corner, bowing deeply. "Your Highness."

I nodded. "Did you find something, Sir Haldor?"

He straightened, face grim. "Yes, Your Highness. Just as you suspected... there were mages reportedly performing forbidden magic."

My steps slowed. "And where are they now?"

His voice lowered. "Killed, Your Highness. Executed under royal decree. There are no known mages performing forbidden magic anymore."

I froze, my brow furrowing.Killed? All of them?

"Hi there, Princess."

Sitting casually on my chair, one leg crossed over the other, hands folded behind his head, grinning like he hadn’t just vanished for days.

"YOU—" she hissed, voice rising an octave higher than I’d ever heard. "YOU SMUG, ARROGANT, VILE, BAT-EARED BASTARD!"

"HOW DARE YOU SHOW YOUR ROTTING FACE HERE AFTER DISAPPEARING LIKE THAT!?" she screamed, and before I could even blink—

FWOP!!!

My beautiful cake—my strawberry-stress-remover-cake—soared through the air in a perfect, deadly arc—and splattered across Rey’s face.

The cream slid off his nose and hit the floor with a soft plop.

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