Too Lazy to be a Villainess novel Chapter 302

Chapter 302: Seeds of Doubt

[Osric’s POV — Everheart Estate, Grand Hall]

The moment the doors slammed behind her, the hall exhaled as if freed from invisible chains. But I... forgot how to breathe.

The nobles around me erupted into frantic whispers, their voices like insects around a flame:

"Did you see—?"

"She defended him—"

"She touched his hand—"

"Raised his rank?"

Their tongues were blades. And every word cut. I stood rigid beside Father’s throne, my new title heavy as armor I hadn’t had time to grow into.

Grand Duke.

I had dreamed of hearing the title spoken. Dreamed of her smiling from the front row as my father announced me as the Next Grand Duke.

Instead... She walked out. Hand in hand with another man.

My jaw tightened.

Sir Haldor.

A man with no noble blood. A man whose name the Empire barely whispered one week ago. And yet tonight... the Empire bowed to him.

Because she said so.

My fingers curled around my sword until I thought it would crack.

"Osric." Father’s voice cut through the storm in my skull.

Father’s gaze stayed on me for a long, heavy moment. I forced stillness into my limbs, but the tremor in my chest refused to obey.

"You look pale," he murmured, his voice too gentle for the saber edge beneath it. "And terribly uncomfortable."

"...Do I?" My throat tightened around the words.

He inhaled softly through his nose, eyes following the direction Lavinia had disappeared. "She had to walk away, Osric. She had to protect her Captain’s honor."

Honor.

I let the word churn like gravel in my chest.

"This was supposed to be our engagement announcement, Father." My voice cracked at the edges of the whisper. "The day we waited for. The day I imagined standing beside her—not as a boy chasing a dream... but as a man worthy of it."

The hall blurred—gold, marble, and whispers smearing like wet paint.

"But she walked away holding another man’s hand." I swallowed hard, shame bitter on my tongue. "Tell me honestly... do you think that knight is more important to her than I am?"

For a heartbeat, Father said nothing.

Then he turned fully, his eyes colder than wine poured over ice.

"Osric... she is the Crown Princess first," he said quietly. "And only after that does she get to be a girl you love."

I flinched. Because I knew he was right. But knowing didn’t dull the sting. He lifted his chin slightly, surveying the nobles below with distaste.

"You do not realize the weight resting on her shoulders," he continued. "She must walk into a court of fanged smiles, challenge generations of malice, and claim a throne built on bones. She must prove she can rule all of them before she can ever choose one of you."

My jaw clenched. "Even if it means pushing me away?"

He did not look at me. "Especially then."

Silence hollowed out my lungs.

Father finally met my eyes—sharp, unyielding.

"If you want to love her," he said, "then love her as Empress. Not as a girl expected to bend for your comfort."

His stare pinned me in place.

"And if you imagine you should be her first priority," he murmured, voice a blade sheathed in silk, "then what you feel... is not love, Osric. It is selfishness."

My breath hitched.

Father’s hand squeezed my shoulder once, firm with finality.

"You are a Grand Duke now. Thorns, not roses, will grow on her throne. When she bleeds from them... your duty is to stand beside her. Not demand she hold your hand while she climbs."

He stepped back, cloak whispering like smoke.

"Consider this your first trial as her shadow," he added, and turned to leave.

I watched his back retreat through the hall, nobles parting before him like water.

And I stood there—crown heavy, heart heavier, realizing... I was no longer competing with another man.

I was competing with destiny itself.

My boots carried me away from the choking perfume of nobles, away from diamonds and applause sharp enough to cut. The doors shut behind me with a heavy thud, sealing the chaos inside.

Cold night air slapped my lungs.

And there—rolling gently down the moonlit road—was the Imperial carriage.

Her carriage.

Sir Haldor rode beside it on horseback, posture straight, sword gleaming silver under the lantern light. Vigilant. Steady. Chosen.

My Lavi’s carriage.

I froze at the top of the estate’s stairs, rooted like a statue someone forgot to move. My heart punched against my ribs—once, twice... then dropped to an aching stillness.

A pair of noblewomen brushed past me, whispering like vipers in silk:

"Captain Haldor rose in rank today, did you hear?"

"Second only to the Crown Princess—unprecedented!"

I clenched my jaw until it hurt.

My father’s words echoed like a curse:

Love her as Empress.

But all I saw was her silhouette leaving with another man. Not looking back. Not reaching for me.

Not hesitating.

Not... for me.

My fingers twitched. I swallowed hard.

This was supposed to be our night.

Our future.

Sirella’s voice cracked. "But why?! For a mere knight she shook the entire hierarchy? That man is just a commoner—with filthy blood—and now... now we must disown my sister and bow before him?! How is that justice?"

Count Talvan rubbed his temple, voice tight. "Do not question her, child. Even we must bow. And..." He hesitated, gaze flicking to me inadvertently. "...even the Grand Duke Osric will bow before him. We have to accept that Truth."

...were they wrong?

"Her temper... will doom the empire."

She had walked away from me tonight. Chose to burn down a noble house in public. Elevated another man above all dukes. And left me standing alone before a hall meant to witness our future.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify