Too Lazy to be a Villainess novel Chapter 354

Chapter 354: Between Crimson and Blue

[Lavinia’s POV—Imperial Ballroom—After the Toast]

Applause thundered through the ballroom. Crystal chimed. Silk whispered. The music rose in triumphant waves as the celebration officially began.

I opened, and the first dance was mine—with Papa.

His grip was firm, his posture unyielding, and his expression carved from imperial stone. But I knew him too well. Beneath that tyrant’s composure was a father so proud it nearly leaked through the cracks.

"I still don’t like that gown," he muttered as we turned.

I smirked. "You approved it."

"I approved the front."

"Papa."

"Hm."

Despite his complaints, he guided me flawlessly across the floor, every step precise, every movement commanding. The crowd watched with reverence—this was not just a dance. It was a declaration.

Afterward came formalities.

I danced with Osric—polite, distant, and ceremonial. Nothing more. Nothing less. And yet, even as we moved through the steps, I felt it.

Haldor’s gaze.

Steady. Unwavering. I didn’t look at him directly—but I felt the weight of his attention like a warm pull against my spine. It lingered even when the music ended. Even when Osric bowed and stepped away.

The celebration rolled on—laughter, music, and endless conversations that blended into white noise.

And then—

"Don’t you dare take a sip of wine, Lavinia." Papa’s voice cut through the noise like a blade.

I froze mid-reach.

Slowly, I turned. "I was lifting the grape juice—"

"I know exactly what you were reaching for," he interrupted coldly. "Do not insult my intelligence by pretending otherwise."

Theon, standing behind him, failed miserably at hiding his grin. Ravick didn’t even try—he chuckled openly.

I sighed dramatically. "One glass won’t kill me."

"Yes," Papa replied flatly, "but I might."

Before I could protest further, a familiar presence moved beside me.

Haldor. Without a word, he calmly picked up a goblet of grape juice and held it out to me. "Your Highness."

I stared at him.

He stared straight ahead. Loyal. Unbothered. Completely complicit.

Traitor.

I snatched the glass with a scowl. "Thank you, Captain."

"A daughter should listen to her father," Papa crossed his arms, clearly satisfied.

I took an exaggerated sip, then bowed my head mockingly. "Yes, yes. No wine. As you command, Your Majesty, Emperor of Tyranny and Joyless Beverages."

Papa didn’t even blink. "I know you’re bored."

I paused.

"Go get some fresh air," he added. "Before you start causing trouble."

I brightened instantly. "That’s actually a wonderful idea."

I stood, smoothing my gown. "I’ll be right back."

As I turned to leave, I leaned closer and whispered, "I will absolutely try to steal wine."

"YOU—!!"

I didn’t wait for the rest. I fled—laughing, skirts gathered, slipping through the crowd like a rebellious shadow.

Behind me, Theon laughed outright. Ravick shook his head. Papa muttered something that sounded suspiciously like I raised a menace.

And of course—I felt him follow.

Haldor’s steps were quiet, controlled, and familiar. I didn’t even turn around as I slipped through the side doors and into the cooler night air.

Only when the music dulled behind us did I exhale.

"...Ugh," I sighed, resting my hands on the balcony rail. "If I don’t get real wine soon, I might overthrow my own empire."

A pause.

Then—quiet amusement behind me.

"I will pretend," Haldor said carefully, "that I did not hear that, Your Highness."

I smiled. Because even now—under the stars, away from the eyes of the court—I wasn’t alone. And somehow... that made the night even more dangerous.

Haldor stood beside me, hands folded neatly behind his back, posture straight despite the softer air. The moonlight brushed against the sharp line of his jaw, softening him in a way the ballroom never could.

After a moment, he spoke—carefully.

"May I ask you something, Your Highness?"

I glanced at him sideways, amused. "What is my captain so curious about?"

A faint smile touched his lips—brief, restrained—before he straightened again, returning to that disciplined stance as if afraid of overstepping.

"Why," he asked quietly, "does His Majesty never allow you to drink wine? I have seen many noble ladies indulge freely. I don’t... see the harm in it."

The question lingered between us. I turned my gaze back to the sky, watching the stars flicker like distant fires. For a moment, I didn’t answer.

Then I spoke.

"Because," I said softly, "he doesn’t want me to end up like him."

Haldor’s brow furrowed. He tilted his head slightly. "I don’t understand."

I exhaled slowly.

"I was born," I said, voice calm but edged with truth, "from a drunk emperor... and his chambermaid."

The words fell quietly—but heavily.

Haldor flinched.

Not out of disgust.

Out of shock.

"I didn’t know," he said immediately, voice low and sincere.

"It’s okay," I replied. "Not everything needs to be known, Haldor. But I can say that he loved my mother. I still want to know how and why he never killed Mother even though they used to fight. Still, I came to the conclusion that he...somewhere likes the mother who gave birth to me. Still does, in his own way. And he has never once regretted getting drunk night... or me."

A pause.

"But that doesn’t mean," I continued, fingers tightening slightly on the balcony rail, "that he wants me to walk the same path."

"And... what kind of future do you want, Captain?" I asked quietly.

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