Too Lazy to be a Villainess novel Chapter 284

Chapter 284: One Less Corpse for Today

[Osric’s POV — Irethene Forest, After Lavinia’s Departure]

The silence after she left was unbearable. Her footsteps faded down the path, but her voice—her fury—still echoed like a curse I’d carved into my own soul.

She said she’d cut off my legs. I almost wished she had. It would have hurt less than the way she looked at me—as if I were a stranger wearing the face of the man she once loved.

Eleania’s ragged breathing filled the emptiness between us. She sat on the ground, trembling, her wrists still bound by the restraints Lavinia’s magic had conjured moments earlier. A faint burn marked her skin—the same flame that had once devoured an empire.

And yet, I knelt for her.

Not because I forgave her. Not because I pitied her. But because if Lavinia had struck her down now—without knowing why—everything she had fought for would have turned to ash.

The Crown Princess of Elorian cannot be seen as a woman who kills for jealousy. A tyrant who slays the corrupted is feared—and respected. But a tyrant who kills for love and jealousy is hated. Forgotten. Rewritten as madness.

That was what I wanted to save her from.

But how do you explain that to someone whose heart you’ve already broken once before?

I looked down at my hands—the same ones that had sworn loyalty to her, that had once held her and loved her. And now, they had touched the earth for another woman. For Eleania—the one who once ended Lavinia’s first life.

Marshi’s growl still lingered in my memory, a low, divine warning that I’d crossed a line no mortal could return from. Perhaps he was right.

"Lord Osric..." Eleania’s voice trembled, her throat raw. "She’ll kill me next time."

"She won’t," I said quietly, though the words tasted like lies. "Not until you provoke her and not until I can stop her."

Her eyes darted to me—jealousy, fear, and something that looked too much like understanding. "Lord Osric, the rumors say you love her. Do You really love her?"

"Yes, I love her and I always will," I said. "But that doesn’t mean I’ll let her destroy herself for me."

The forest swallowed my confession whole.

I rose slowly, every joint heavy with the weight of my choices. Blood still stained the dirt where Lavinia’s boots had been—crimson prints, half-moons fading into the path toward the capital. They looked like the ghosts of steps I’d never catch up to.

I followed. Not too close, not too far. Just enough to see her—her figure wrapped in that royal cloak, shoulders trembling beneath its weight. She stopped near the clearing where Sir Haldor stood waiting, the carcass of the beast laid aside.

And then... I saw it.

She turned to him. No crown. No command. Just a girl—small, broken, human. When she spoke, her voice was so faint I almost thought the wind had imagined it.

"It hurts, Sir Haldor... it hurts to live again."

Those words cut through me deeper than any blade ever could. To live again.

Haldor hesitated, then pulled her close, his armored arms folding around her with the kind of strength I had once sworn was mine to give. My chest constricted; jealousy burned, ugly and raw, but even worse was the pain beneath it. Because I knew—she didn’t need a knight right now. She needed peace, and I had stolen that from her.

Her soft hiccups carried across the still air, muffled against steel. I had heard her cry once before—in another life, when her palace burned and I couldn’t save her. That sound had haunted me through death itself. Hearing it again now... it shattered everything I had rebuilt.

"Lavi..."

The name escaped me before I could stop it—quiet, desperate.

She stiffened. Slowly, she stepped out of Sir Haldor’s hold and turned. Her eyes were swollen, rimmed red beneath the gold of her lashes. For a moment, her lips trembled—like she wanted to say something. Like she almost forgave me.

Then her hand went to her sword.

"Do not follow me," she said, her voice steady now—cold, royal. "Or else I will not threaten. I will do it for real."

The sound of steel left its sheath, sharp and final.

I stopped where I stood. My throat felt tight, my body frozen in that awful distance between us—the kind that no step could close.

She turned away, her cloak whipping behind her as she walked toward the stage, toward the crowd, toward a world that would never let her weep without consequence.

And I—I didn’t follow.

I should stop here. I had to.Because if I took another step, she would strike me—not out of hate, but out of the pain I caused her.

So I stayed behind, surrounded by the silence of the forest and the echo of her sobs still clinging to the trees.

I didn’t return to the hunt. I returned to the stage instead—where duty waited, cruel and patient, just like fate itself.

***

[Lavinia’s POV — At the Stage—Later]

...God, it was hard to convince Papa that nothing happened.

The moment he saw my eyes—puffy, red, traitorous—his hand flew straight to his sword. Not even a word, just that look that said someone’s about to die for this.

If I hadn’t stopped him, there might have been a royal execution before the next horn sounded.

"Papa, I’m fine," I said quickly, forcing a smile that probably looked more like a grimace. "Something just... fell into my eyes."

Papa didn’t look convinced. His gaze flicked to Sir Haldor like a blade drawn midair. "Haldor," he said, voice low and heavy, "is she lying to me?"

Poor Sir Haldor. He looked like a man trapped between two guillotines. His eyes darted from the Emperor’s glare to my silent, pleading stare.

He hesitated, swallowed hard, and said, "Her Highness speaks the truth, Your Majesty. It was, ah... the dust. A rather aggressive bit of dust, it seems."

Papa narrowed his eyes. "Dust?"

Sir Haldor nodded too quickly. "Yes—yes, Your Majesty. The kind that... stings."

I could’ve hugged him again for that lie. A loyal knight indeed.

Papa stared for another long, terrifying moment, then slowly sheathed his sword—but not without grumbling something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, ’Next time, I’ll kill first and ask later.’

Oh, no.

"Yes, you are," I sighed. "You’re shooting deadly daggers at him. He’s going to drop dead from guilt before you even swing that sword." 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

"Still..." he murmured darkly, "if he made you cry, I will hang his bones over the palace gate myself."

The nobles in front of us pretended to admire the hunting trophies, pretending very hard not to overhear the Emperor casually plotting murder.

And then my eyes shifted to her.

Let her smirk.

And then—THUD!!!

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