Too Lazy to be a Villainess novel Chapter 66

Chapter 66: Masterpieces and Taxed to Death Nobles

[Lavinia’s POV]

It’s been more than ten days since I almost got kidnapped.

I say "almost" because Papa made sure that "almost" is as close as anyone will ever get to touching me without being turned into ash. Literally.

Since then, many things have changed.

For starters, I now have my own personal knight—Sir Ravick. He’s always around me like a tall, grumpy statue with a sword, even when I’m just trying to sneak a second dessert. Not only that, but Papa added even more knights to trail behind me like shadows.

They try to hide in the shadows like they’re secret agents, but I always see them peeking behind curtains or pretending to be flowerpots. One of them even sneezed when I was playing hide-and-seek.

He sneezed so loud that my heart went thump-dump-thump.

Not only that, Papa hired the pie chef from the Nivale Kingdom for me. The famous one. His name is Chef Elowen—a tall, graceful elf with green hair, pointy ears, and a terrifyingly serious face when it comes to desserts. He treats every tart like a holy ritual.

It’s not like the old chef never made delicious food, but... no one—and I mean no one—can make desserts like Chef Elowen. His blueberry tarts taste like summer dreams, and his mousse feels like kissing a cloud. Every day, I get new pastries, cakes, puddings, and pies.

If I ever go missing, check under the dessert table.

But that’s not all.

Just like Papa said, he really did hang my drawing in his treasure room. The one I drew with noodles—I mean, hair—that looked like spaghetti left out in the rain. And not only that, he made a replica and put it up in the entrance of his imperial office!

So now, every official, knight, ambassador, and terrified noble who comes to see him has to pass by my spaghetti-haired drawing.

I was so embarrassed when I saw it, I hid behind Ravick’s cloak for ten minutes, and Papa stood there proud, like I won a gold medal for that picture.

"How can you hang that?" I asked him, pointing at my scribble with a face so red I looked like a tomato.

Papa only smiled proudly and said, "Because everything my daughter creates is a masterpiece."

Sigh. I guess I can’t argue with that logic... even if the eyes in that picture were uneven and the sun had six rays instead of eight.

Anyway, I’ve drawn lots more now. One with Grandpa Thalein, who looked at it and cried like someone just handed him the meaning of life. Then he hugged me tight and declared, "I shall show this to every elf in Nivale!"

Sometimes I wonder if he used to be a soap opera actor in his past life. The drama! The tears! The way he sniffled was like I just ended a 300-year-long elf war with a crayon!

I also drew Nanny, Marella, Grandpa Gregor, Theon, Grand Duke Regis, Ravick, and even Osric. When I gave Osric his drawing, his cheeks turned bright pink like strawberries. I don’t know why. Maybe my drawing was that good?

But not everything has been cute or funny lately, because the palace and the empire were still in chaos.

Turns out, the people who tried to kidnap me? Weren’t from some evil villainess kingdom. Nope. They were from our own empire. Our own people. That means someone inside wanted me dead. Someone wanted to hurt Papa—through me.

So now... everything is chaos.

Papa’s fury? Oh, it wasn’t just dramatic. It was legendary.

He’s got every single noble under investigation. Like, literal royal audits. You know how nobles used to walk around wearing fancy silk robes and gold-embroidered cloaks? Now they’re all dressed like depressed librarians. Papa raised their taxes so high, I heard one count fainted just by opening his monthly bill.

They call it the "Wrath of the Emperor Tax."

He froze bank accounts, summoned treasury inquisitors, and made every noble family submit their ledgers. One baron tried to bribe the inspectors—Papa threw him in the dungeon.

Oh, and that’s not all. Papa made a royal decree that says:"Any noble who refuses to cooperate will be stripped of title and lands and invited to play fetch with the palace hounds wearing steak-scented perfume."

It’s... poetic.

Some say Papa’s being ruthless. Some say he’s lost it.But I know the truth.He’s just scared and worried.Scared something might happen to me again.

So now the palace is fortress-level protected. New guard rotations, magical wards from the royal mages, and even the laundry room is locked unless it’s under "high-security washing protocols." I’m not kidding—Marella yelled because her uniform got held hostage by a rune-lock.

But despite all the noise, the fear, the tension in the air... I feel safe. Because Papa is watching. Protecting.

And every time he looks at me, I see the same thing in his eyes. He’d burn the whole world if it meant keeping me safe.

And maybe... just maybe... I’m okay with that.

And now, with my arms full of a basket stuffed to the brim with cookies, tarts, and crunchy almond sticks (Chef Elowen called them "elfish fingers," which sounded spooky but tasted divine), I marched toward the training grounds. Marshmallow trotted beside me, fluffing his pompous tail like he was royalty. Ravick, of course, followed too, looking like a brooding shadow knight from a bedtime story.

I guess I didn’t see him as just a "male lead of the novel" anymore.He was Osric.My Osric.My friend who protected me.

Osric was in the middle of training, his form focused and sharp as he wielded an actual real sword now—not those wooden sticks he used to use like a pretend pirate. Eleven years old and already swinging a blade like a miniature war god. Honestly, I was kind of impressed.

—and then suddenly skidded to a halt like someone hit the emergency brakes on a horse.

Wait, what? Why are you suddenly acting all formal?

One knight fumbled his sword and dropped it. Ravick’s eyes twitched.Another tripped during footwork. Ravick exhaled like he was trying not to combust.Then a third one tried to spin and ended up hitting himself in the knee.Ravick’s hand creaked around the hilt of his blade.

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