Too Lazy to be a Villainess novel Chapter 327

Chapter 327: The Knight Who Touched Her Soul

[Lavinia’s POV—Red Wall Castle—War Room—Continuation]

The war room was silent again.

The maps lay open. The ink on my stamp was still drying. And Haldor Vaelthorn stood before me—straight-backed, composed, and unreadable as always.

But not completely unreadable... Not anymore.

I leaned my cheek against my palm, studying him. The flicker of emotion last night... the crack in his voice... the hug he’d given without thinking... they lingered in the air between us like something unfinished.

"Sir Haldor," I began slowly, "may I ask you something?"

He stiffened slightly but bowed his head. "Yes, Your Highness."

I folded my hands on the table. "I’d like to know a little about you."

The reaction was immediate.

A flicker—shock, fear, something hidden—crossed his eyes before he shuttered them. Just like that, the warmth disappeared, replaced by a blankness so perfect it almost hurt to see.

His shoulders lowered a fraction.

"...There is nothing about me worth knowing," he said.

A lie.

A heavy one.

His voice always had weight, but this time... it carried pain. And how could he even say that?

How could a man like him—disciplined, loyal, unwavering, a shield made of flesh and devotion—think he had no worth?

My chest tightened.

"Sir Haldor..." I said quietly.

His head bowed slightly. "Yes, Your Highness?"

"You are worth... everything," I whispered. "Why make yourself small when you were born to stand tall?"

His face changed—not dramatically, but subtly, beautifully. The tension eased. The stone-like calm softened.

A faint blush warmed his cheeks, shy and unguarded.

I leaned forward, voice low. "So promise me something."

He blinked. "Anything."

"Never lower yourself—not even in front of your own reflection," I said. "I don’t know what kind of life you lived to think you’re worth nothing... but trust me. You will receive everything you deserve one day."

His breath shivered at the edges—like someone touched by warmth after years of cold.

Then..."Your Highness..." he murmured, hesitant, "may I touch you?"

My heart skipped.

I smiled faintly and stretched my hand toward him. "You can."

Haldor’s lips parted just a little—a rare, disbelieving expression—before his fingers curled gently around my hand.

So gentle.So careful.As if I were something sacred.

He lifted my hand slowly—reverently—and pressed his lips to the back of it.

A whisper-soft kiss.

But it felt like a flame.

"You are the only person," he said against my skin, voice trembling with sincerity, "who has ever treated me fairly, Your Highness. I am blessed to serve you."

A tingling sensation rushed up my arm—warm, electric, unwelcome only because it was too real. My cheeks heated despite myself.

He released my hand reluctantly... stepping back, his eyes lowering. "I... do not have a family anymore, Your Highness."

The shift in his tone made my breath catch. He wasn’t just answering a question. He was opening a door he had kept locked all his life.

"I lost them all," he continued quietly, "in a carriage accident. When I was very young."

My heart twisted. A carriage accident. Just like that—his entire world wiped out.

"After that... I was raised in an orphanage." His hands tightened behind his back. "And later, I became a knight. And now... I stand here. Your captain."

His story was simple.

Too simple.

Not because it lacked details—but because the pain underneath it was enormous, yet he summarized it as though it didn’t matter.

As though he didn’t matter.

I stepped closer.Slowly.Deliberately.

His eyes widened, just a fraction, as I reached up and cupped his cheek gently.

"Sir Haldor, you survived alone," I said softly. "You endured things no child should ever face. You grew into a man strong enough to stand beside a crown and carry nations on your shoulders."

His eyes—usually expressionless—flickered with emotions I had never seen in him before:

Grief.Hope.Fear.Longing.Relief.

I brushed my thumb beneath his eye—the softest touch.

"You did very well, Sir Haldor," I whispered. "And I promise... I’ll give you everything you’re worth. Anything."

His eyes closed for a moment—a silent surrender—before he lifted his hand to touch mine, holding it against his cheek. "Thank you... Your Highness. But...to be honest, having you...is having everything."

For a moment, the world narrowed.

The war room. The maps. The marching soldiers. The looming prince. Everything disappeared except him... and me.

A breath.

A heartbeat.

A—

"YOUR HIGHNESS!!!"

The words cracked through the air like lightning. We both turned.

Osric stood in the doorway—shoulders rigid, hands clenched so tightly his knuckles had gone white, his chest rising and falling with barely restrained fury.

His eyes—usually cold, calculating—were burning.

Angry.Shaken.Threatening.

And locked entirely on Haldor’s hand touching my face. He stepped forward, voice low and trembling with rage, "What... is happening here?"

"Grand Duke Osric," I said, tone sharp as a blade, "no matter where you are... you should never forget your etiquette."

"Stop."

I simply commanded, and Osric—a Grand Duke—froze like a soldier caught in the wrong battlefield.

"Whether it is a war room, a battlefield, or the Imperial Palace itself... you will always knock before entering. We...are not close anymore."

"Start speaking."

"YOUR. HIGHNESS." The word cracked through the room like a whip.

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