Too Lazy to be a Villainess novel Chapter 86

Chapter 86: The Empire Felt Empty

[Cassius’s Pov]

CLUNK!!

It’s been ages since I last had wine, but for some reason, it tastes more bitter than I remember.

I used to drink it like water—goblets of it after council meetings, barrels after battles. It dulled the edge and kept the monsters in my head quiet. But I began drinking less when Lavinia started growing up.

But now?

Now she’s not here, and I feel like I’m losing my mind.

Why? Why do I feel this... emptiness? She’s just a child. A tiny, golden-haired demon with sticky fingers and an unholy love for glitter. She steals my robes to make forts. She paints my war maps with little suns and flowers.

But still.

The palace is too quiet without her.

Every hall echoes like a graveyard. Every corner I turn, I expect to see her barreling into me, tripping over her own feet, and declaring some absurd nonsense like, "Papa! I am a very serious wizard now; please give me your sword."

Damn it. I can’t even sleep tonight.

Again.

The bed feels too big. The room was too silent. Every tick of the clock sounds like a damn war drum pounding in my ears. My thoughts keep going in circles, and all of them end with Lavinia’s not here.

I feel awful.Unbearably restless.Like there are knives beneath my skin—pressing, pricking, begging to be let out.

Maybe I should train.Better to bleed on the training field than rot away in these suffocating chambers.

So I threw on a cloak, grabbed my blade, and stalked down the palace halls like a storm made flesh—unleashed, unrelenting, and aching for something to cut.

And of course, I ran into him.

"Oh... where are you going?" Theon asked, eyes blinking blearily. He looked like he’d just crawled out of bed. His hair was a mess. He had a stupid cup of tea in his hand. Comfortable. Rested.

I kept walking, my cloak swishing with imperial menace. "Practice sword."

"What?! At this time?" he gasped, clutching his cup like it was his last lifeline.

"Yes," I said flatly.

He gawked. "Did you really go insane?"

I didn’t answer. I just kept walking, jaw clenched tight enough to break bone.

He trailed behind me like an annoying little duckling, muttering, "You know, normal people sleep at night. You could just read a book. Take a warm bath. Drink warm milk. Mediate or something."

"Warm milk?" I repeated, halting mid-step. I turned slowly, eyes gleaming with murder. "Do I look like a toddler?"

"Well, you are throwing a tantrum," he muttered.

I drew half my sword.

Theon immediately raised his hands. "Okay, okay, Your Imperial Rage—no need to decapitate your loyal attendant and lifelong friend."

I held his gaze for a long second, then slowly slid the blade back into its sheath.

He exhaled in relief. Then squinted at me. "...You miss her, don’t you?"

I glared. "I do not."

"You really, really do."

"Shut up."

He sighed, rubbing his eyes like a long-suffering nursemaid. "Cassius, the princess is coming back tomorrow."

"I know that," I growled.

"Then why are you acting like she was kidnapped by sky pirates and sold to a traveling circus?"

I stared at him. Cold. Unmoving.

Then I turned on my heel, cloak billowing, and muttered, "I’m still going to practice sword."

"Of course you are," he said, trailing after me again like a pest with a death wish. "Need someone to supervise so you don’t accidentally stab a ghost of your own spiraling paranoia?"

"If I see your face one more time tonight, I will stab you," I said flatly.

***

[The Next Day]

It’s been more than half a day. She should’ve arrived by now.

What’s taking her so long?

I sighed—as I walked down the hallway, and everything was irritating. The sunlight was too bright. The marble floor was too loud. Even the curtains swayed like they were mocking me.

"...And I think," Regis was muttering something, "we need to address the Grain Tax Reformation in the eastern provinces before winter arrives. Their nobles are threatening rebellion again."

"Yes," Theon said, rubbing his temple. "And the Viscount of Helmar sent another letter protesting the new magic commerce routes. Says they’re affecting his monopoly on enchanted paper."

I was not listening. I heard nothing. Politics. Rebels. Paper. Whatever.

My mind was elsewhere. A familiar, golden-crowned void in my soul. Tiny. Laughing. Radiant. Loud.

Where is she?

My daughter.

Why isn’t she back yet?

I feel like killing something. And then—then—I saw it.

A maid.

Touching the vase.

The vase.

Her vase.

The one Lavinia stuck thirty-seven dried dandelions into and proudly declared, "This is the royal flower of our empire now, Papa."

How dare she!

Because something is.

What do you mean, what message?

"Well, uh, Your Majesty—according to the latest official report, her tour is meant to last approximately... two days. Depending, of course, on fairy sightings, seasonal moonlight rituals, spontaneous woodland tea parties, and... you know, meeting her elf brothers," Theon said and continued, "So, she might... possibly... maybe stay a bit longer? It’s all up to the princess."

Something snapped in me.

I knew it. I knew he was trying to take her away from me. He was always jealous of me that my daughter loves me more than him.

With his elegant robes, smug nature magic, and condescending ancient wisdom. He probably fed her some elven cookies and brainwashed her into thinking he was better than me.

And now he’s keeping her. Holding her hostage in his flowery forest kingdom with twinkling lights and starry air and those tree-hugging bastards who call themselves her brothers.

How dare he.

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