Too Lazy to be a Villainess novel Chapter 92

Chapter 92: Hide-and-Seek and Royal Snacks

[Lavinia’s Pov]

"Alright, you bunch of overgrown toddlers—I’m gonna start counting! Everyone hide, and I mean really hide this time!" I spun around dramatically, slapping both hands over my eyes like I was in some tragic play.

"No peeking! That’s cheating!"

The garden echoed with the muffled sounds of grown men shuffling around—grown men with swords, shiny armor, and absolutely zero hiding skills.

"Ten... nine... eight..." I began in my most serious voice, dragging out every number like I was casting a magical spell.

It’s been nearly two years since that whole elf-trafficking incident happened. Time... ugh... time has this way of just whooshing by when you’re not looking, like a squirrel stealing your last cookie.

"Seven... six... five..."

After that scandal, the Elf King was furious—and when I say furious, I mean steam-out-of-the-ears, thunderclouds-over-his-head furious. Apparently, he almost declared war when he found out that humans tried to sell elf children like they were exotic fruits in a market.

Luckily, Grandpa Gregor stepped in like some kind of ancient hero. He marched his old self to the Elf Kingdom, straightened his ancient spine, and went full diplomat mode. Explained everything. Promised justice had been served.

Even offered cake. (Okay, maybe not cake, but diplomatic apologies and stuff.)

Anyway, now we are on good terms with the elves again, and—get this—he’s invited as a special guest for Papa’s and my birthday in two months. Yep. I am gonna turn seven in two months. A double celebration. Double the cake. Double the presents. Double the drama.

"FOUR... THREE... TWO..." I shouted, bouncing on my heels. Oh, the anticipation!

I grinned wickedly. "I hope you’re hiding well because—ONE! READY OR NOT, HERE I COME!"

I peeked between my fingers for dramatic flair, tossed my hair like a proper princess, and spun around.

Time to hunt.

Rustle, rustle... snap!

...Seriously?

SERIOUSLY?!

...You have got to be kidding me.

I tiptoed toward the bushes like a sneaky cat. And what did I see?

Two fully grown knights of the Second Imperial Army—you know, the elite trained-in-a-hundred-kinds-of-battlefield warriors—crouching behind a pair of bushes so thin, I could see their shiny swords glinting in the sunlight like disco balls. One of them was gripping two little branches like he thought they made him invisible.

I blinked. Then squinted. Then stared.

"Oh wow. What a genius disguise," I muttered, deadpan. "A tree with arms. How innovative. I’m terrified."

I crept closer on tiptoe (deliberately, obviously) until I was standing right behind the rustling mess. Then I cleared my throat.

"So... are we pretending that I can’t see you right now?"

"Gah! I mean—what? Who said that?!" Caldus squeaked and toppled forward like a tower of potatoes.

And then...

"Oh no," one whispered. "She saw us."

"Abort mission! I repeat, ABORT MISSION!" the other whisper-yelled, crawling away with all the grace of a drunken penguin.

I marched up to them like a queen on a warpath.

"What part of ’hide’ did you not understand? I told you to HIDE. Not to cosplay as broccoli!"

Lionel squeaked, "But, Your Highness, we thought the leaves—"

I narrowed my eyes. "Leaves? You’re taller than the palace gates. You could be holding an entire tree, and I’d still see your face poking out."

Then edwin muttered under his breath, "Told you we should’ve used the fountain again..."

I sighed. Deeply. Painfully. Theatrically.

"I can’t believe the empire’s safety is in their hands," I muttered, dramatically turning my back and stomping off like the offended princess I was born to be.

"But Your Highness," Lionel said, brushing petals off his head, "this is dishonorable defeat!"

"Oh please, this is hide-and-seek, not a battlefield. Surrender with dignity."

He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something clever—maybe about knightly pride or honor or broccoli camouflage—but I had already moved on. "By the way," I scanned the courtyard with narrowed eyes, "where is Marshi?"

As if on cue—like fate itself was bribed to interrupt—

"Princess," came a voice from the other side of the garden, "it’s snack time."

Ding ding ding!

I swear my eyes lit up like fireworks. My stomach let out a tiny roar of excitement. I may or may not have started drooling right then and there.

"COMINGGGG~~~!" I squealed, abandoning all royal grace as I dashed toward the sound of food like a little lightning bolt in a frilly dress.

Lionel scrambled up and chased after me. Behind us, the bushes rustled again.

"Stay still," someone whispered behind the hedge, "we are shadows now."

As I rounded the corner toward the other side of the garden—aka the official snack zone—I skidded to a halt with an exaggerated gasp.

There he was.

Marshi.

"YOUUUU—!" I gasped, pointing at the divine striped fluffball who had betrayed me in the worst possible way.

BEFORE. ME.

"Excuse me, Your Fluffiness, but in what royal universe does a tiger get first dibs before the princess!?"

He has grown, alright. From a clumsy floof into a proper majestic beast—his coat now gleaming with silvery stripes and golden fur, eyes sharp as moonlight, and a tail that swayed like it belonged to a creature from ancient myths. He wasn’t fully grown yet, but even now he looked like he could scare dragons just by yawning.

He was still the laziest tiger in existence. And still hopelessly, irrevocably addicted to sugar.

"I leave you alone for five minutes, and you’ve already devoured half the snack tray," I accused, pointing to the half-empty plate beside him. "And don’t pretend it’s an accident—I know you dragged that mochi with your tail."

...Curse him.

He knows I can’t resist belly rubs.

"Alright... alright... I forgive you," I muttered dramatically, plopping down and throwing my arms around his giant neck as he made a satisfied hrrmmph noise, like he was the one granting me forgiveness.

Ahhhh~ this is life.

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