Too Lazy to be a Villainess novel Chapter 314

Chapter 314: The Midnight Hunt

[Lavinia’s POV — Black Wall Fortress Training Grounds—Midnight]

The wind cut sharper now.

Not because it was colder. Because something in the air had changed.

Sir Haldor stood across from me, breath steady despite the cold, despite the sweat beading down his chest. His sword lowered, but only slightly—like he wasn’t sure whether to bow or keep fighting shadows.

I swallowed once, clearing the sudden tightness in my throat.

"So," I finally said, trying for casual but horribly aware of how silent the fortress was at this hour, "this is what you do every night? Freeze yourself half to death for fun?"

Haldor blinked once.

"I must remain vigilant, Your Highness," he said. "Enemy territory demands full discipline."

"Discipline," I repeated slowly. "Lovely word. Terrible for the bloodstream at midnight."

His lips twitched. Barely noticeable. But it was there.

The silence stretched—warm this time, not sharp. I exhaled and gestured lightly toward his sword. "Show me."

He stiffened. "Show you?"

"Yes, Captain. You’re training. I’m awake. Teach me something or I’ll go insane tonight."

His eyes widened just a fraction. "Your Highness... you want to train at this hour?"

"Is that strange?"

"Yes," he said immediately.

I raised a brow. "Are you refusing?"

He straightened like lightning. "Never."

. . .

. . .

I chuckled under my breath and handed him my cloak. "Then let’s have a short duel, Captain. Maybe it will tire me enough to sleep."

He caught the cloak, folded it once with military precision, and laid it aside on the sand. "As you wish."

I rolled up my sleeves. "Don’t go easy on me."

"I wouldn’t dare," he answered, voice low.

We stepped into position—moonlight drawing a pale ring around us.

He moved first.

Of course he did.

CLANG!

Steel flashed. His strike aimed for my left shoulder—precise, testing—but I twisted and met it with a clean parry. The impact sent a pleasing vibration up my arm.

"Good," I smirked. "You’re not holding back."

"Never," he repeated, eyes locked on mine.

He came again.

SWIFT—!CLANG!

Our blades kissed, sparks scattering like fireflies. He pushed, weight firm, posture perfect. But I leaned in, shifting my stance, and he lost a breath—

Just a breath.

"Careful," I said. "You’re leaving your right open."

"Only because you noticed," he shot back.

He lunged. I sidestepped and flicked my sword upward. He blocked—but barely. The faint tremble in his arm told me he was still sore from earlier.

"Your wound is slowing you," I teased.

And then I felt a shift behind Haldor. A shadow that didn’t belong to the moon. Before he could react, I slid my hand down—slow, deliberate—until my palm brushed over his knuckles.

He jolted.

"Y—Your Highness—?" His voice cracked in a way I had never heard from him.

I stepped closer.

Closer.

Until there was no space left between us, my body pressing lightly into his chest, his breath catching against my cheek. His sword froze mid-strike, the blade trembling just half an inch from my shoulder.

"Shh..." I whispered. My lips brushed dangerously near his ear as I spoke.

"Someone is behind the wall, Haldor," I murmured, voice soft but sharp as a needle. "Observing us."

His body went rigid. I felt every muscle lock beneath my hands.

"...Behind the wall?" he breathed, barely audible.

"Yes," I whispered back. "So we keep pretending to be distracted. And stay close."

The moment stretched—tense, intimate, dangerous. His heartbeat thundered subtly against my palm, his skin burning under my touch.

Haldor lowered his eyes for a split second, as if steadying himself. Then—softly, almost unwillingly—he murmured:

"...You’re very close, Your Highness."

"Then don’t move."

His jaw tightened. "I won’t."

He lifted his sword with his free hand, sliding it between us, the cold steel a thin barrier that didn’t do a single thing to ease the heat gathering in the space we shared.

Under my palm, his pulse quickened. Behind us—The shadow shifted again. Slow. Calculated. Hunting.

Haldor whispered without looking away, "Your Highness... until when do we stay this close?"

"Just a little longer..." I breathed.

And then his gaze finally met mine. Blue and blazing. Focused—and yet undeniably flustered. My crimson eyes reflected the flicker of his blush, the way his breath caught, and the way he tried and failed to pretend he wasn’t affected.

The sword trembled slightly in his grip.

"Haldor," I murmured.

"Yes, Your High—"

Movement. A shift in the dark. The assassin lunged from behind him—blade raised to stab Haldor.

Haldor didn’t see it. I didn’t think. I moved.

I shoved him aside—STAB—!!!

My dagger plunged clean through the attacker’s ribs. The man’s breath left him in a broken hiss. He collapsed at my feet with a heavy THUD.

I exhaled slowly, wiping the blade on his cloak.

"That," I muttered, "was close. Too close."

Haldor was already kneeling beside the corpse, checking the insignia carved into the man’s wrist guard.

"He’s from Meren," he confirmed, voice low.

I stepped forward, my boots crushing the frost underfoot. The night wind howled, pushing my dress behind me like the wings of a storm.

"Of course he is," I said coldly. "They always send rats first. Cowards with knives before men with swords."

Behind me, the first horn blast ripped through the night—BOOOOOOOOOM—!!

"KILL HERRRRR!!!" one of them roared.

SLASH—!!!

My sword carved through the first man’s throat so cleanly his head dangled by a strip of flesh before dropping—THUD—rolling across the dirt, eyes still blinking.

I snapped my heel into his knee—CRACK—bone splitting through skin. He screamed. I grabbed his hair and slammed my blade through his jaw so hard it went out the back of his neck.

A third tried to stab me from behind—steel scraping. I twisted, catching his wrist and shoving his own dagger into his ribcage. Slowly. Deliberately. Feeling each layer of bone and cartilage part under the force.

Marshi leapt beside me with a divine roar—RROOOOAAAARRRR!!!—tearing through two assassins like they were made of paper. Their bodies split open in midair, spraying the grass with crimson arcs.

Solena swooped down, talons sinking into a man’s skull—CRUNCH—splitting it like a ripe fruit.

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