Too Lazy to be a Villainess-Chapter 140: The Cup That Shattered

[Lavinia’s Pov]

[Imperial Palace – Private Garden – Late Afternoon]

The sun had melted into its softest hue, dripping gold over the palace walls like honey poured from the heavens. The breeze was lazy, the flowers were smug, and my gown—thank you very much—shimmered like it had been blessed by fashion gods themselves.

It was, in every sense, disgustingly peaceful.

Too peaceful.

Marshmallow had planted himself under the tree, belly-up, all four legs in the air, snoring softly like an overgrown kitten with royal entitlement issues.

I, meanwhile, lay across the velvet picnic cushions like a sun-kissed goddess. Caelum was sitting beside me like he belonged in a painting—one hand holding a macaron, the other tossing crumbs to a completely uninterested sparrow.

And Osric?

Osric was standing.

Rigid. Formal. Like a very pretty statue someone forgot to sit down.

I squinted up at him. "Why are you standing like I’m about to be assassinated by squirrels?"

He glanced down, ever composed, and smiled faintly. "Because it’s my duty, Your Highness."

I waved a lazy hand toward Caelum, who was currently licking jam off his fingers like a barbarian in velvet. "If he can sit freely and stuff his face with pastel desserts, you can definitely take a seat."

Osric flicked his gaze toward Caelum, who just grinned and shoved another macaron in his mouth. The side-eye was deadly. A full war declaration in silence.

Osric sighed. "If someone else is shameless... that doesn’t mean I will be too."

"Hey!" Caelum said, mouth full. "Rude. I’m a noble idiot, not a shameless one."

"You’re both," Osric muttered.

I flopped to my side dramatically, resting my chin on my palm. "You know, Osric... you used to be fun. I could tease you, prank you, and braid your hair while you used to visit. But now? You’re more of a shadow than a friend."

He actually flinched.

Caelum, delighted, jumped on the moment. "If the position of friend is vacant, Your Highness, I am happy to step in and take his pl—"

"YOU CANNOT."

Me and Osric. In perfect sync. One voice. One volume. No hesitation.

Caelum blinked. "Wow. That was aggressive. I am... hurt. Deeply. My soul. My heart. Even my spleen."

I rolled my eyes. "You’ll survive, idiot."

I pointed to the cushion across from me. "Osric. Sit. That’s an order."

"But, Your Highness—"

"Are you disobeying the direct command of the Imperial Crown Princess?" I gasped theatrically, one hand to my chest. "The audacity. The gall. The treason!"

He groaned quietly. And sat.

Victory.

A maid approached just then with a silver tray, delicate plates clinking softly.

Afternoon tea. The universe was, momentarily, kind. As she poured, Caelum nudged a pastry toward me. "Sometimes I feel like a third wheel between you two."

I sipped smugly. "That’s because you are."

He pouted. "Rude."

I giggled... But then I noticed her. The maid. Hands trembling. Eyes wide. Face pale as snow.

I blinked. "Did something happen to you?"

Her eyes snapped to mine. Her lips parted. "I... I... it’s nothing, Your Highness," she stammered. She bowed quickly—too quickly—and then practically fled the scene like her skirts were on fire.

"...Did she just run like we were about to test potions on her?" I muttered.

"Maybe she’s scared of you," Osric offered mildly.

Caelum, however, had stopped chewing. His eyes tracked the fleeing maid with narrowed suspicion.

"Forget it," I mumbled, picking up my cup. "If I questioned every person who ran away from me dramatically, I’d never get anything done."

I took a slow, warm sip. Then another.

"Mmm..." I sighed, "Should I ask Papa for another break?"

"No," Osric said immediately. "He’ll make sure you never ask again. You’ll be training in your sleep."

"He’s right," Caelum added helpfully. "He’ll invent dream duels."

I groaned. "Why is he like this...?"

I reached for my cup and took a sip. It was floral. Light. A hint of citrus.

I took another.

A soft breeze passed. Osric said something—I didn’t catch it. My ears were ringing.

Then suddenly—

Snap.

Like a thread in my chest had just broken. A sharp pain spiked beneath my ribs. My hand jerked. The cup slipped from my fingers—fell—shattered on the marble with a crash.

"Lavi?" Osric’s voice turned sharp, cutting. "What happened?"

"I... I don’t..." My fingers clutched my side. The pain—was spreading. Fast. Hot. Searing. My vision... blurred. Warped. The golden light around me turned too bright. Blinding.

"Something’s... wrong," I gasped.

And then—

Caelum’s eyes—wide, shocked—turned a horrible shade of panic. "YOUR HIGHNESS?!"

I opened my mouth—and blood spilled onto my lap.

My blood.

Dripping. Thick. Red.

"...What—" I choked, barely able to breathe.

I barely processed Osric leaping forward, catching me before I slumped into the grass.

His voice—frantic. "Lavinia?! Lavinia! Stay with me—look at me—LAVINIA!"

My lips moved.

Nothing came out.

The pain. Oh gods, the pain.

My veins burned. My throat closed. My heartbeat crashed like war drums, then slowed—too slow—sluggish and slipping.

Caelum’s voice trembled. "She’s been poisoned—SOMEONE GET THE PHYSICIAN! NOW!"

My chest convulsed. My body folded. My head fell against Osric’s chest.

"I’ve got you," he said—voice cracking for the first time. "You’re okay. You’ll be okay. I promise—stay with me—just stay—"

My fingers tried to grip his sleeve.

Failed.

My vision faded.

Their faces—Osric’s horror. Caelum’s pale shock. Marshmallow is rushing towards me from a distance. The world tilted one last time.

Then—

DARKNESS.

***

[Emperor Cassius’s POV][Imperial War Council—High Strategy Chamber]

"Strengthen the border near the Eastern Wastes," I said coldly, fingers drumming against the obsidian war table. "If the desert raiders so much as blink in Elarion’s direction, I want them buried alive beneath their own bones before they realize they crossed the line."

The chamber fell into reverent silence. Ravick nodded grimly. Regis crossed his arms. Theon, scribbling away like a scribe possessed, murmured, "Noted."

Regis cleared his throat. "I believe we should double the fleet along the Southern Coast. Too many reports of merchant vessels vanishing without a trace. If any ship sails false banners—we should sink it. No questions."

I glanced toward the southern quadrant of the map. "Hmm..."

A pause.

"Alright. Do it."

The generals bowed.

I turned my attention to the next territory. Every inch of Elarion lived under my gaze—under my hand.

And then—

SLAM.

The great chamber doors burst open.

A knight stumbled through, face drained of color, armor clanging in pieces. Panic rippled through the hall. My brow furrowed. My voice dropped like a sword being drawn.

"How dare you enter unannounced—"

He fell to his knees before I finished. "Your Majesty—!" His voice cracked. "The... the Crown Princess—" He gasped again. "She’s been... poisoned."

. . .

. . .

The silence wasn’t silence.

It was a detonation.

All heads snapped toward me—Regis, Ravick, and Theon—all of them frozen.

I stood.

War map forgotten.

My cloak rustled like a storm rising behind me—then seized the knight by the collar and yanked him off the ground.

"What did you just say?" I hissed, my voice a blade dipped in wrath.

His entire body trembled. "T-the Princess, Your Majesty... she collapsed in the garden... there was blood... from her mouth—Lord Osric carried her to her chamber; the physicians have been summoned, but—"

I didn’t hear the rest.

Because I was already moving.

I didn’t run—I descended. Like fury carved in flesh.

The hall blurred around me—gold and marble melting into chaos.Every breath hurt.Every step thundered.The palace staff scattered like rats.

No. No, no, not again.

I had taken every measure. Every guard was handpicked. Every dish tasted. Every corridor watched. She was supposed to be safe.

I made sure.

And now—she’d been poisoned.

Again.

My thoughts spiraled, crashing like tidal waves.

Why...?

Who...?

Why her again...?

This was supposed to be the second chance. My last chance to protect her. My daughter. My Lavinia. If I lost her again—

No.I would not.

I reached the gates of Dawnspire Wing and slammed the doors open with a force that made the hinges scream.

Chaos met me. Servants running. And then I saw her door.

I kicked it open.

And stopped.

The entire world went still. There she was. Lying on her bed.

Still.Pale.Unmoving.

Just like that night.

Osric was kneeling at her side, his hands soaked in blood—her blood. His face was pale as snow, lips pressed into a line that trembled with barely restrained panic. His breathing came in ragged bursts, like a man drowning in guilt.

Caelum stood a few paces behind him. Frozen. His fists clenched so tightly that blood dripped from his knuckles, trailing down his wrist like silent grief. His jaw was locked, eyes wide with horror. He didn’t move. None of them did.

When I stepped into the room.

Everything stopped.

Like the air itself forgot how to breathe.

I walked forward, slow... but not steady. My hands were trembling—me, trembling—because nothing, not ten wars nor a thousand deaths, compared to the sight of my daughter lying there like she had already slipped from this world.

Osric looked up at me.

"Your Majesty..." he whispered hoarsely, bowing his head.

And I saw red.

I stared at him—the man who swore to guard her with his life.

And I snapped.

I seized him by the collar and yanked him up with one hand. His eyes widened, shocked, but he didn’t fight back. His body stayed limp, like he agreed with whatever punishment was coming.

"Didn’t you say," I snarled, "that you would protect her?"

He swallowed hard. "I—I did, Your Majesty. I’m sor—"

I threw him to the ground.

The impact echoed through the chamber.

"DO YOU THINK YOUR APOLOGIES WILL HEAL HER?" I roared, my voice shaking the very windows. "DO YOU THINK SORRY WILL PURGE THE POISON FROM HER VEINS?!"

Regis and Ravick rushed in behind me, eyes wide. Theon lingered in the hallway, looking pale. But no one dared interrupt.

No one dared move.

I stepped forward, standing over Osric—my shadow eclipsing his hunched form. My rage was not loud anymore. It was deadly quiet now.

"You swore to her," I whispered. "You swore on your name, your title, your life—that no harm would touch her while she breathed beside you."

Osric didn’t speak.

He didn’t beg.

Didn’t flinch.

Because he knew.

He knew he deserved what came next. I turned to the guards stationed at the doorway. My voice rang like a command etched in steel.

"Drag Osric to the dungeons...now"

The room shuddered.

Regis’s eyes widened, but he said nothing.

The guards hesitated, for only a breath. Then moved. Two stepped forward, grabbing Osric by the arms. He didn’t resist. His head hung low, his blood-streaked hands limp at his sides.

But just before they pulled him through the doorway, I spoke again—softly, like a knife pressed beneath the skin.

"You failed her again."

He froze.

I saw his body tense.

His head lifted slightly. "What do you mean—again?" he asked, barely louder than a breath, like he knew.

But I said nothing.

I turned away.

And the doors closed behind him.

I stood in silence, staring down at Lavinia—my little girl, my storm, my soul—and the fury turned to something worse.

Fear.

"Get me the High Priest," I ordered through gritted teeth.

"And send a raven to Thalein. Now." My voice dropped, dark and certain. "Tell them... his grand-daughter has been poisoned...only he can cure her."

The chamber moved into frantic action behind me.

But I didn’t move.

I couldn’t.

Because I was watching the rise and fall of her chest. Counting the seconds between each breath.And praying to every god I’d ever cursed—

That this wouldn’t be the last time she woke up.