Too Lazy to be a Villainess novel Chapter 81

Chapter 81: Absolutely, Undoubtedly, Unquestionably Papa’s Girl

[Lavinia’s Pov]

Lysander sat back on the couch, giggling like someone had just told him Santa was real and paid taxes. "I’m... a big brother," he whispered like a dreamer on a sugar high. "I am a big brother. I’m a big brother."

Good for you, Sir Redhair Enthusiasm.

Me?

I was reclining like a mini monarch with a grape in each cheek, munching with the elegance of someone who had once filed quarterly taxes and survived Karen from HR. Life was good.

Until it wasn’t.

Because someone suddenly blinked like a memory slapped him in the face with a wet sandal.

"Oh right... Earlier you said you were feeling lonely," Lysander said, tilting his head like a confused squirrel. "I wonder why?"

Oh.

Uh-oh.

Mayday. Red alert. All systems down.

I froze mid-chew. One grape. One treacherous, juicy grape now tasted like lies and betrayal.

And then I felt it.

That presence.

Grandpa Thalein turned toward me slowly—like he’d just heard his favorite soap opera character die in the finale. His eyes? Wet. Trembling. Sparkly in the way like a baby deer witnessing a thunderstorm for the first time.

"My precious... do... do you feel... lonely?"

I blinked. Strategically.

"Nope!"

His lip did the wobble. Oh no. Not the wobble. That’s grandpa-level emotional warfare.

"But—"

"No, Grandpa!" I flailed my arms like a frantic air traffic controller trying to divert feelings. "I just—I just missed Papa, that’s all!"

"You did?" both Grandpa and Lysander chorused, but with very different vibes. One was soft and sparkly. The other sounded like he was ready to adopt me for tax benefits.

"I always sleep with Papa!" I said proudly. "I fall asleep in his arms every night. He smells like cedarwood and pancakes. But today, he wasn’t there. So I got lonely."

Everyone nodded in solemn understanding.

Until I added, a bit too honestly:"But just because of that! Not because I don’t love everyone else! And definitely not because Grandpa smells like herbs and foot ointment!"

Grandpa gasped like I’d stabbed his soul with a very tiny, very rude butter knife. "My heart!"

"That was uncalled for," Lysander muttered.

"You snuck through the palace at midnight in your nightgown like a ghost on a mission," I hissed.

"...Fair."

Lysander leaned forward, that mischievous grin returning to his face like it paid rent there. "Well, if you miss Papa that much, how about I—your handsome, brave, very sweet older brother—take his place?"

I paused.

Mid-grape.

The betrayal tasted fermented.

My eyes narrowed, glowing with the power of ancient transmigrated fury. "Take... Papa’s place?"

"Yes," he smiled, as if he hadn’t just committed treason in the form of sibling enthusiasm.

"NO ONE," I declared—grape juice dribbling down my chin like war paint—"CAN TAKE PAPA’S PLACE."

Silence.

Like, magical elf-ppocalypse-level silence.

Even the grapes stopped photosynthesizing.

Ravick gave me a solemn thumbs-up like a knight kneeling before a feral queen. Marella and Nanny looked like they wanted to embroider this moment on a tapestry and hang it above the royal fireplace.

Even the guard in the corner let out a cough-snort. Victory noises engaged.

Lysander’s smile wilted like a salad in the sun.

"Okay, okay," he muttered, hands up like I was pointing a sword instead of wearing pink socks with kittens on them. "Calm down, small and terrifying one. I meant—what if I took Papa’s place... temporarily?"

My eyes sparkled.

And not the pretty princess sparkle. The gremlin plotting revenge sparkles.

"NOT EVEN TEMPORARY."

The silence now had an echo.

Lysander slumped back like his soul had been yeeted into space. "So... I don’t have any chance."

"Nope," I said sweetly, popping the last grape into my mouth like a gavel. "Papa’s irreplaceable. He’s my one and only big, warm bedtime heater."

"...Big warm bedtime heater," Lysander echoed, looking like he was questioning his life choices.

"I climbed palace walls, risked my life, and got bludgeoned by a senior citizen for this," he muttered.

"You also broke into my room like a total weirdo," I helpfully reminded him.

"That was for flair!" he cried.

Grandpa patted my head with a proud glint in his eye. "You really are Cassius’s little girl."

"I know," I beamed. "And when I go back, I’m going to tell Papa everything. Especially about the suspicious redhead trying to snuggle into my bedtime spot."

Lysander flinched like I’d summoned a tax auditor. "You wouldn’t."

"Oh, I would."

Grandpa looked delighted. Like villain-level delighted. "You’re doomed."

"I feel bullied," Lysander groaned, sliding deeper into the cushions like he was trying to become furniture.

"You should feel bullied," Ravick said dryly, crossing his arms like a disapproving wall of muscle.

I sprawled on the couch like a champion. Chaos had been served. Loyalty had triumphed. A small redhead had been crushed under the boot of justice.

Papa would be so proud.

Just as Lysander slid off the couch like a deflated balloon, Grandpa clapped his hands twice, activating the Important Grandpa Voice™.

"Alright, my precious ones," he declared, "it’s getting late. Time to head to bed."

I pouted. I had a master’s degree in pouting.

"But I’m not sleepy!"

Dramatic pause.

"...you’ll be exploring the city."

WHAT.

"REALLY?!" I gasped, bouncing like a hyperactive cupcake.

Big ones.

***

[The Next Day]

This was the day. The day I, Lavinia Devereux Starshimmer Featherquill—yes, I added some names for drama—would descend upon the city like a sparkly storm.

Then I picked up Marshi, who was also wearing tiny goggles—yes, tiny goggles. He blinked once, very dramatically.

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