Too Lazy to be a Villainess novel Chapter 374

Chapter 374: The Marriage and Heinous Act

[Lavinia’s POV — Imperial Palace—One Week Later]

After convincing our fathers, I thought everything would go smoothly. But ofcourse, I forgot...my papa is way more dramatic than me. It took weeks.

Actual weeks.

And Papa—oh, Papa—yes, he agreed, but he did not like a normal father.

He declared war. Not a loud war and not a dramatic war either.

A Petty tyrant war.

It began at lunch. I had barely sat down when the servants placed my plate in front of me. The aroma alone made my eyes water.

I stared at it.

"...Why is my curry glowing?" I asked carefully.

Papa sipped his wine, utterly calm. "Extra spices."

I took one bite.

Instant regret; my mouth was on fire. I coughed. Gagged. Reached desperately for water.

"WHAT IN THE NINE HELLS IS THIS?" I yelled at the maid.

Papa leaned back, watching me with infuriating serenity. "Do you feel the burning sensation, my dear daughter?"

"...Yes," I croaked.

He nodded solemnly. "Good. That is exactly how marriage feels."

. . .

. . .

I stared at him dumbfounded. "YOU POISONED ME."

"I seasoned you," he corrected. "For realism."

"Ugh...seriously," I groaned.

The next attack came during sword practice. I stepped onto the training ground, reached for my blade—And found nothing.

I blinked.

Looked left. Looked right.

"Where is my sword?" I asked slowly.

Papa stood across the yard, hands behind his back, wearing the face of a man who had planned this moment since dawn.

"Oh?" he said mildly. "You cannot find it?"

"...No?"

He spread his hands. "Exactly. Marriage, my dear Lavinia, is full of deliberately hidden secrets."

Haldor—standing behind me—went rigid.

"I will find it for you, Your Highness," he said immediately.

Papa snapped his head toward him. "No, you will not."

Haldor froze.

"This," Papa continued, pointing at me, "is a lesson. A swordless lesson."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "This is psychological warfare."

"Yes," Papa agreed proudly.

I groaned again and thought that was the end. And you’re right...I was absolutely wrong.

Then came dessert. I was foolish enough to think he had grown tired. The chef placed a beautiful tart in front of me. Golden crust. Sugared fruit. Perfect presentation.

I smiled.

Took a bite.

My face twisted instantly. "...Why is it sour?"

Papa didn’t even look at me as he cut his own slice. "Sour. Bitter. Occasionally disappointing."

He glanced up then, eyes sharp. "Just like all the marriages."

. . .

. . .

I pushed the plate away. "You’re projecting."

"I’m warning you."

The final blow came during the council meeting. I entered the chamber as usual. Walked toward my seat—And stopped.

My chair beside Papa, the crown princess chair has gone.

Just... gone.

I stared at the empty space and knew who did this. Slowly, I turned to him.

Papa folded his hands, satisfied. "See, my dear daughter?"

"...Papa."

"After marriage," he continued calmly, "you leave my side."

The nobles went deathly still. But Theon and Ravick chuckled silently. Papa gestured to the missing chair. "Even furniture understands this truth."

I clenched my fists. "YOU REMOVED MY CHAIR."

"I relocated it," he said. "Symbolically."

Haldor looked like he was one comment away from drawing steel on a chair.

I leaned forward, smiling sweetly. "Papa. If you remove one more piece of furniture to make a point—"

"Yes?"

"I will marry Haldor on that furniture."

The room froze. Papa stared at me. Then—slowly—he looked away.

"...Bring her chair back," he muttered.

Victory.

Temporary.

But glorious.

As I sat down again, Haldor leaned closer, voice barely audible.

"...Is this normal?"

I smiled brightly. "No and you should get used to this."

Then I added, softer and more dangerous, "But it does mean he’s losing." 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

And honestly?

Watching a tyrant emperor wage emotional warfare against his own daughter—Almost made the marriage worth it already.

That was when my gaze met Osric’s across the council chamber.

He looked... surprised.

Not amused. Not mocking. Just caught off guard—like he had realized too late that the game had changed boards.

***

[Later—After the Council Meeting]

I walked down the marble hallway rubbing my temples, my patience hanging by a thread.

"I can’t believe an old man like him throws tantrums," I muttered to myself. "He’s way too dramatic. I thought I was the only one cursed with that trait."

Footsteps echoed behind me.

Then—"So... you finally decided to marry?"

I stopped.

Slowly, I turned. Osric stood there, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed—but his eyes were cold. Sharp. Like winter steel.

Our gazes locked. There was no warmth there anymore.

No lingering sentiment.No nostalgia.

Just two rulers who had outgrown whatever illusion once existed between them.

"Yes," I replied evenly. "I am. Everyone gets married one day."

For a heartbeat, he said nothing.

"But not a tyrant like you."

"Grand Duke Osric," I said softly, dangerously, "don’t forget who is standing in front of you."

"Count Talvan," Osric said flatly. "And Sirella Talvan."

"Osric," I said quietly, tyranny woven into every syllable, "if Talvan believes he can conspire in the shadows while I prepare to ascend the throne..."

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