Too Lazy to be a Villainess novel Chapter 329

Chapter 329: What Ends, and What Begins

[Haldor’s POV—Outside Lavinia’s Chamber—Red Wall Castle]

"Sir Haldor..." her voice—firm, composed—cut through the tension like a blade. "Wait for me outside."

She said it so simply.

So gently. I bowed, because that is what I always do. That is what my duty is. "Yes, Your Highness."

But I didn’t want to leave.

I wanted to stay. I wanted to stand between her and that man. I wanted to tell her— Grand Duke Osric feels like a threat now. A danger. A storm waiting to crack open.

Not to the Empire.

To her.

To the quiet, steady strength she’d spent years building.

I stepped away. Not far. Just outside the door. Just enough that I could still hear her if she raised her voice. Just enough that—if she called for help—I’d be the first sword drawn.

The corridor was empty. Quiet. Still.

Until I heard his voice.

"He... touched you." The Grand Duke’s tone cracked like thunder—angry, frustrated, and laced with something darker. Possession. Jealousy. Fear.

And then—"And how does that concern you, Grand Duke?"

Her Highness’s voice—sharp, cold, and controlled—struck like lightning.

A smile tugged at my lips.

Why...why did I smile?

Because—for the first time—she didn’t soften for him.

For the first time, she didn’t explain herself, or shrink, or give him space to twist her silence into guilt.

She stood tall.

She stood fierce.

And she stood free.

Their conversation blurred into a flurry of rising words—his voice pleading, defensive, and indignant; hers, precise and cutting like the edge of a blade honed over years.

And then it came.

Her voice—low, final, absolute, "You have no claim over me. No rights. No privilege. Not anymore."

A silence followed. Deafening. Something inside me stopped moving. Not because I feared what came next. But because I knew—deep down—that something had ended.

Truly ended.

The chains between them had snapped. Her Highness... had let him go. Not with rage. Not even with sadness. With peace. Like she had burned the last of his name from her chest and sealed it shut with iron.

No tears.No hesitation.Not even a trace of pain.

And the strangest part?

It didn’t make me feel victorious.

It didn’t feel like an open door swinging wide for me to step through.

It just... made my chest ache.

Ache for her—because I could feel how long she had carried that weight alone, gripping a shattered love not because she wanted it, but because she had been expected to.

Ache for myself—because somewhere along the line, I began watching her too closely.

Not as a soldier.Not as a captain.But as something else.

As Haldor Vaelthorn, the man—not the knight.

The final exchange inside snapped me out of spiraling thoughts.

Osric’s voice—trembling, angry: "You’re repeating everything again, Your Highness."

I didn’t understand what he meant—but her answer came like a descending blade.

Cold. Final.

"I will send Papa a message—explaining everything between us. Whatever future your father imagined for us ends today. He will see me only as his Crown Princess—not his daughter-in-law."

A pause.

A breath.

Then her voice rose, sharp enough to cut stone—"Now. GET. OUT."

The hall froze.

The tension thickened.

And then the door slammed open. Grand Duke Osric walked out—no, stormed out—his fury so hot it burned through the air.

His eyes found mine instantly.

Rage boiled in them. Possessive. Wounded. Vengeful. He took a step toward me. Then another.

His breath shook with barely contained anger. "It’s all because of you."

A declaration.An accusation.A threat.

He leaned in, voice dripping venom. "And I’m not letting you go easily."

I didn’t flinch.

I didn’t bow.

I met his gaze—eye to eye, steel to wildfire—and answered quietly, evenly, "...And I am ready to crush whatever you bring, Grand Duke Osric."

His jaw twitched. His fists tightened until his knuckles went white. For a second—for a dangerous second—he looked like he might strike me.

But instead he spat a breath, turned sharply, and stalked down the hall, his cloak snapping behind him like a wounded beast retreating to lick its pride.

Only when he disappeared around the corner did I exhale.

Not from fear.

But from certainty.

A line had been drawn today.

Not by me. Not by him. But by her.

And I whispered to myself—not a vow, not a promise, but a quiet truth I wasn’t ready to face fully:

"Whatever storm he brings... I’ll face it. Because she deserves better than a man who sees her as a possession."

***

[Lavinia’s POV—Evening—War Chamber]

"No," he said. "If Kaelren plans anything, he will act after we move. Not before."

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