Too Lazy to be a Villainess novel Chapter 313

Chapter 313: A Scar He Chose to Keep

[Lavinia’s POV — Black Wall Fortress—One Week Later]

A week had passed since we tore the Black Wall from Meren’s hands.

Seven days of hammering, sweeping, tending, and rebuilding—until the fortress finally felt more Elorian than enemy. A week, and not a single Meren soldier dared approach.

Their silence was the loudest message of all.

General Arwin placed a stack of parchments on my desk. "Your Highness, relief supplies have arrived from the Imperial Palace and from the Eastern Region Duke—Duke Halveth."

I nodded. "Good. Distribute them exactly as planned."

"Yes, Your Highness. Half for the army, half for the villagers."

"Perfect."

Osric stepped forward, his posture straight but his tone unusually heavy. "There is... something else we must address, Your Highness."

I looked up. "What is it?"

"The villagers," he said. "During inspections, we found them sick and injured. Severely."

My brows knitted. "Sick?"

"Yes," Osric continued. "Their homes abandoned. Their wells are dry. Many were left without wood, food, or shelter. Meren troops cleared their own borders and left the people to rot."

My jaw tightened. "Of course they did. They treat power like treasure and lives like dirt."

The room fell silent for a beat.

Then I exhaled slowly. "Provide whatever they need. Food, supplies, healers. No one around our territory should starve."

General Arwin bowed deeply. "As you command, Your Highness."

He straightened again. "Next matter—the repairs of the Black Wall. Shall we begin immediately?"

"Yes," I said. "Begin now. I’ll send a letter to Papa for extra funds. Reinforce the west wing first; the stone there is weakest."

Arwin nodded and left to relay orders.

I leaned back in my chair and glanced at Osric. "Any movement from Meren?"

"None," he said. "No messengers, no scouts, no runners. They’re... quiet."

I shook my head. "No. They’re planning."

His jaw flexed at my tone.

"Keep the scouts alert. If Meren doesn’t strike in two days..." I tapped the map spread across my desk. "...we move forward. We won’t give them time to breathe."

Osric nodded, but he didn’t leave.

Instead, he stepped closer. Close enough that the shadow of his armor brushed my knee.

"Lavi," he said softly.

I looked up.

His expression wasn’t the one he showed the field or the court. It held warmth—gentle, steady, like a hand extended in the middle of a storm.

"Should we have lunch together today?" he asked. Not as a duke. Not as a Knight. But as the man who loved me.

I arched a brow. "Why? Is the esteemed Grand Duke not eating with his soldiers today?"

Osric leaned down just enough to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers grazed my skin—warm, careful, lingering half a second longer than they should.

"I can," he murmured. "But... I’d rather not keep distance from the woman I love."

My heart stilled for a beat.

Smooth. Too smooth.

I smirked, looking away just long enough to hide the curve of my lips. "So this is the new Osric? Flirting instead of arguing?"

"Only when I’m winning," he said, his voice low with a playful edge.

"Tch." I stood, brushing past him. "Fine. Lunch it is."

His smile—small, victorious, almost boyish—told me he had waited a long time to hear that.

"Then shall we, Crown Princess?" he asked, offering his arm.

I took it.

"Lead the way, Grand Duke."

***

[Black Wall Fortress—Midday]

The "dining hall" of the conquered fortress was really just a repurposed war room—cracked stone walls, a long wooden table that had probably seen more blood than meals, and sunlight spilling through a broken archway where a window once stood.

But somehow... it felt warm.

Not because of the room.

Because Osric was already there, sleeves rolled, arranging plates brought by soldiers as though he personally intended to make sure I ate.

When he saw me enter, he straightened—not formally, not like a duke. More like... a man trying very hard not to smile too quickly.

"Your seat," he said, pulling the chair out for me.

I arched a brow. "Someone is trying too hard."

"I’m simply being polite."

I clicked my tongue and sat. "Polite? Or terrified?"

His lips twitched. "Both."

I blinked. "Huh?"

Osric moved before I could process it—stepping closer, taking my hand gently, and lowering his head. His lips brushed the back of my hand.

A familiar gesture.

"Lavi," he said quietly, voice dipped in sincerity, "these days we’ve had too many misunderstandings. Too many things twisted between us. I don’t want it to continue."

I smiled faintly. "So you finally realized your mistake?"

He lifted his eyes—steady, stubborn. "I still stand by my words, Lavinia."

My smile died. "What?"

"You take reckless decisions in anger sometimes—"

I cut him off. "And which reckless decision are you talking about, Osric? Promoting Sir Haldor?"

He flinched. "You cannot carelessly rearrange hierarchy for a mere—"

I cut him again, voice cold. "Insulting my soldier is the same as insulting me, Osric. So choose your next words very carefully."

Silence fell like a blade. Sharp. Heavy. Uncomfortable. The warmth from earlier... vanished. Even the fire crackling in the corner felt cold.

He exhaled slowly. "You keep getting too close to him. And I don’t... I don’t like that."

There it was.

The quiet truth he kept swallowing until it found the cracks.

I rubbed my temples. "Osric, let’s just eat. We have a meeting in a few hours."

Maybe Osric didn’t love me. He is attached to me because of the guilt of a past life where he regret not choosing me.

***

[Midnight, Black Wall Fortress]

He acted like some grumpy old noble whose blood pressure spiked whenever things didn’t follow his script. And I was not in the mood to be anyone’s script.

SLASH—!!CRACK—!!!

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