Too Lazy to be a Villainess novel Chapter 310

Chapter 310: Tea, Moonlight, and the First March

[Lavinia’s POV — Outside the War Tent, Under the Moon]

The night had softened. For once, the wind wasn’t cruel—it whispered, cool and patient, over the camp’s restless heart.

Below the hill, Eloria’s army moved in a hurry. Fires flickered like distant stars, armor clinked, and somewhere a sentry hummed a lullaby to keep himself awake. But here—on the ridge above it all—it was quiet enough that I could hear the flags breathing.

Osric stood beside me, silent. The moonlight silvered his armor, softening what war had hardened. Solena perched on a broken post nearby, feathers folded, watching us both with knowing eyes.

I crossed my arms, eyes still fixed on the horizon where the mountains carved black lines against the pale sky.

"You know," I murmured, "this is the first time we’ve stood together without arguing since the coronation."

He gave a faint smile. "That’s because there’s no one left to argue with us."

A small laugh slipped out before I could stop it. "Then it must be the calm before I ruin everything again."

"You won’t," he said quietly.

I turned to look at him. His expression wasn’t confident—it was something heavier. Faith, maybe. Or desperation pretending to be faith.

"You sound sure."

"I am," he said simply. "You were born for this."

I huffed softly. "I was born to sit in a palace, attend banquets, smile, and listen to nobles argue over taxes."

His mouth twitched. "And yet, here you are—leading ten thousand soldiers toward an empire’s edge."

"Life is cruelly ironic," I said, and tilted my head toward the stars. "You can almost hear the gods laughing."

For a long while, neither of us spoke. The moon was high, and the camp below shimmered with quiet life—distant movements, soft murmurs, and the metallic sigh of restless blades.

Finally, he said, "Do you ever regret it, Lavi?"

I glanced at him. "Regret what?"

He met my gaze. "Regret this. Choosing to love me."

The question hung there between us, thin as a thread and twice as sharp.

I looked back toward the horizon, the pale light of the moon tracing my armor’s edge. "I don’t regret anything, Osric."

Then, after a beat, I added softly, "In fact, I should be the one asking you."

His brows furrowed. "Asking me?"

I turned to face him fully. "Do you regret loving the Crown Princess of the Elorian Empire?"

He froze. His jaw worked soundlessly before he finally said, "I just... wanted us to end with each other this time. In this life. I want us, Lavi." His voice cracked just enough to sound human. "Is it so wrong to expect that from the woman I love?"

I let out a quiet breath, the faintest smirk tugging at my lips. "It’s wrong," I said simply.

He blinked. "What?"

"When you love a Crown Princess," I said, turning my gaze back to the moonlit horizon, "you don’t get to have expectations. You learn to sacrifice them. Time. Affection. Peace. The world doesn’t stop for a woman like me, Osric. Our heart should first belong to this empire."

He smiled, though there was no joy in it. "And what do you think I’ve been doing all this time? I’ve sacrificed plenty."

I turned back, eyes sharp but not unkind. "Then think carefully about what you’re asking for. You may have already given more than you realize... and yet still expect more from me than I can give."

He said nothing. The silence between us grew heavy again, shaped like everything we’d never be.

I stepped past him, brushing against the edge of his cloak. "You have too many expectations, Osric," I murmured as I walked away. "And I’ve already burned mine."

I didn’t look back.

The cold air hit me as I crossed toward my tent, my thoughts a knot of steel and moonlight. I was so deep in them that I nearly collided with someone at the entrance.

"Oh—your Highness!" Sir Haldor straightened immediately, a metal cup in his hand. Steam curled from it.

I blinked. "Sir Haldor... are you taking a tea break in the middle of a war camp?"

His expression went stiff. "No, Your Highness. I—ah—I brought this for you." He held up the cup, his voice going soft. "Jasmine tea. In an army cup."

I paused, studying him for a beat. The armor, the exhaustion, the way he still managed to look like discipline personified even while holding tea.

"...Jasmine," I murmured, sniffing the steam. "How do you know I like Jasmine tea?"

He nodded once. "I heard it from your Lady-in-waiting, your highness."

A small smile curved my lips. "And do you expect me to drink it alone, Captain?"

Before I could say wait, he was already gone.

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