Too Lazy to be a Villainess novel Chapter 288

Chapter 288: The Warmth She Denied

[Lavinia’s POV — Next Morning—Dawnspire Wing]

The first light of dawn crept through the curtains, spilling soft gold across the room. I blinked against it, my head still heavy with the remnants of a restless night.

For a moment, I forgot—then I turned, and there he was.

Osric.

Still asleep on the couch, one arm hanging over the edge, the other clutching the blanket I’d thrown over him like it was a lifeline. His hair was a disheveled mess, his face peaceful but marked with exhaustion.

The man who’s stronger and faces armies without blinking was now snoring quietly in my sitting room. I pressed my lips together, torn between irritation and something dangerously close to fondness.

"Idiot," I murmured under my breath.

Marshi jumped down from the bed, tail flicking, and padded toward the couch. The creature sniffed him once, wrinkled its nose dramatically, and then looked back at me with a judgmental expression that could rival any court minister’s.

"Yes, I know," I said, rubbing my temple. "He reeks of wine and regret."

Osric shifted slightly at the sound of my voice, mumbling something incomprehensible—something that might’ve been my name. His fingers twitched, and for a fleeting moment, the corners of his mouth lifted, as though even in sleep, he was relieved I was still here.

That small, unguarded smile... it hurt more than I expected.

I turned away, pulling the curtains wide open. Sunlight spilled into the chamber, chasing away every remnant of last night’s gloom. The fire had long since died out, but the air still clung to a lingering warmth—heavy, almost suffocating.

A knock came.

Before I could answer, the door opened and Sera stepped in, her usual grace breaking into startled alarm. "Your Highness—what in the heavens—" Her gaze fell on the couch. "Is that... Lord Osric?"

I sank onto the chair opposite him, exhaling slowly. "He was drunk," I said flatly. "Now, prepare the bath, Sera."

She blinked, then bowed slightly, though her eyes still darted to Osric’s sleeping form like she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. "Of course, Your Highness." Then, after a pause, she frowned faintly. "Forgive me for saying this, but... you look as though you haven’t slept much either."

"I couldn’t," I replied, running the brush gently through Marshi’s fur. "He wouldn’t stop talking—even after he fell asleep, he kept... apologizing."

Sera tilted her head, her voice soft but probing. "And did you forgive him?"

The brush stilled in my hand. My fingers tightened around it until my knuckles whitened.

"No," I said finally, each word deliberate. "Not yet. I couldn’t."

Her gaze lingered on me for a moment before shifting toward the couch, where Osric mumbled incoherently and rolled to one side, clutching the blanket tighter.

"But," she said carefully, "you tucked him in."

I met her eyes sharply. "That," I said, tone clipped, "was pity. Not forgiveness."

she gave a low, amused hum. "If that’s what you want to call it, my princess."

I ignored her remark and looked back toward Osric. The sunlight caught his face now—showing the shadows beneath his eyes, the lines of strain that even sleep couldn’t erase. He looked nothing like the man the Empire called indestructible.

He looked human.

And I hated that I understood that kind of weakness.

Osric stirred again, groaning softly, one hand lifting to his head. "Lavi..." His voice was hoarse, fragile.

I stood abruptly. "Let’s go, Sera," I said, brushing invisible dust from my sleeve. "Tell the chef to prepare hangover soup."

Sera hesitated, eyes flicking between the two of us. "As you wish, Your Highness."

She turned to leave, but not before murmuring just loud enough for me to hear, "It’s strange, isn’t it? Even when they hurt us the most, we’re still the ones making sure they recover."

I froze for half a second—then straightened my posture, letting the words slide off like rain.

"Go," I said quietly.

Sera bowed and slipped out.

The door clicked shut, and I let out a slow breath. Behind me, Osric shifted again, muttering my name like a prayer he didn’t deserve.

I didn’t turn to look at him.

Not yet.

***

[Osric’s POV — Morning — Dawnspire Wing]

The first thing I felt was pain. A dull, pounding ache right behind my eyes—the kind that makes even breathing sound too loud.

The second thing I felt was... warmth. A blanket. Soft. Tucked around me. For a moment, I didn’t know where I was. The scent of lilacs and parchment drifted faintly through the air, the kind of fragrance I could recognize even in death.

Lavinia.

I opened my eyes slowly, squinting at the sunlight spilling through the curtains. The golden light stung, but I deserved the sting.

"Finally, you woke up."

"Drink the water first," she said evenly, not looking up from her paper.

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