Too Lazy to be a Villainess-Chapter 84: Safety in Green Velvet

[Lavinia’s Pov]

Today... it’s the last day at Nivale.

I didn’t have much fun, and yet—I enjoyed it. It’s weird. Like when you eat something bland and then suddenly bite into a surprise raisin.

But now... these two...

WHY THE HELL ARE THEY CLINGING TO ME LIKE GUM?!

"Lavi, let me fix your braid," Soren says for the fifth time, brushing my hair like I’m Rapunzel preparing for a royal ball. We’re not even going anywhere! We’re just standing in the middle of the courtyard like decorative plants!

"And here, your scarf was slipping," Lysandre says gently, tucking it around my neck like I’m a fragile Victorian child about to get consumption.

Meanwhile, Nanny and Marella are chuckling behind me.

Traitors. Absolute betrayal.

"Brothers," I deadpan, standing as still as possible so they’ll stop fussing, "I’m five, not five minutes from dying."

"Oh my stars, did she just sass?" Soren gasps, clasping his chest like I personally stabbed him with a rainbow-colored crayon. "She gets that from me. I love it."

"She gets it from me," Lysandre corrects with a flip of his flawless hair. "She’s dramatic and sarcastic. That’s my entire brand."

"Correction," I growl, smacking Soren’s hand as he tries to re-fluff my already fluffy bangs. "I get it from my papa."

Soren lets out a theatrical gasp. "The betrayal!"

"I’m going to cry," Lysandre sniffs, hugging me from behind like a weighted blanket I didn’t ask for.

Meanwhile, the others around us—relatives, staff, and some nosy neighbor aunties who’ve just shown up for snacks—are all smiling dreamily.

"Awww, look at them!" One coos. "Such a close-knit family!"

"Such caring older brothers," another sniffs. "So rare these days."

Older brothers?

I shoot a look at the sky.A look filled with pain.A look filled with prayers.A look filled with... Please remove me from this planet.

THEY’RE MY COUSINS, LADY. AND ONE OF THEM CALLED ME "A THING" YESTERDAY.

I miss Papa.I MISS PAPA SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!

But the clinging isn’t over.

"Oh no! Her cheek looks cold," Soren announces, poking my face.

"She’s turning pink! So pink!" Lysandre gasps like I’ve just contracted an exotic glitter-plague from a foreign kingdom.

SOMEONE SAVE ME!!!!I screamed.Out loud.Internally.Because dignity matters. Even when you’re five.

And right on cue—like divine intervention wrapped in an angry suit—Grandpa Thalein showed up.

Flanked by guards.Surrounded by silence.Radiating "I-will-end-you" energy like a walking apocalypse in designer boots.

I bolted to him like I’d seen a light in the dark."Grandpaaaaaaa..." I wailed dramatically, flinging myself at him like a pint-sized damsel in distress.

He caught me, strong arms lifting me like I was made of rose petals and royal blood."Oh...my..." he said, staring down at me with those hard eyes softening just a fraction. "Did something happen to my precious?"

I nodded rapidly, the betrayal still fresh in my soul.

"They... they’re bullying me!" I cried, pointing accusing fingers at the traitors in cashmere.

"What?!" they both gasped in unison, like someone had slapped them with a cold pancake.

"When... did we—"

"She’s LYING! I brushed her hair lovingly!"

"I FIXED HER SCARF! I SAVED HER FROM A WIND-INDUCED DEATH!"

But Grandpa wasn’t buying their innocent-angel act. He turned and glared at them like they were two overgrown mosquitoes.

"Looks like... they need more beating."

I nodded solemnly, snuggling closer to his shoulder and a wise little monk who had seen too much.

"WHAT!!" Soren screamed like someone just told him glitter was illegal. "Is caring and loving our precious little sister a crime now?!"

"YES," I replied instantly. "If it involves suffocation."

The space went dead silent.

No one answered.

Even the guards looked away, pretending to admire a very boring wall sconce.

Grandpa, without a word, flipped his coat, turned on his heel, and strode off like a king in a mood.

"My precious... let’s go," he murmured.

"I need to show you something."

"Oooooh," I gasped, eyes wide. "Alright."

He didn’t answer. Just smiled mysteriously.

A smile that said chaos may or may not be involved. I looked back at Soren and Lysandre, still frozen mid-gasp, mouths open like confused fish.

I wiggled my fingers at them with a giggle."Byeeeeeeeeeeeee," I sang sweetly, waving two fingers. "Tell your hair gel I said hi."

And just like that, I was gone. Carried off into the safety of Grandpa’s arms while my cousins stared into the void of their tragic sibling losses.

They blinked.

Lysandre stammered, "She... she played us!"

Soren nodded, and I giggled.

As we walked down the hallway, I nestled into Grandpa’s shoulder and asked, "Where are we going, Grandpa?"

He smiled slightly—like the smile he only does when he’s about to stab someone diplomatically—and said, "To get back your thing."

I blinked. "My thing?"

He nodded.

"Like... the one they stole?" I whispered, already planning a dramatic rescue mission.

"No," he said. "The one that was always yours. Even if you didn’t know it yet."

"Is it shiny?" I asked.

"No."

"Is it edible?"

"...Definitely not."

I squinted. "Is it cursed?"

Grandpa chuckled darkly. "It might be."

"Ohhhh." I clapped my hands. "Then I want it back!"

***

Grandpa didn’t say another word after his cryptic "thing" comment.

He just walked.

Down the hall.

Like some kind of silent, brooding royal shadow with a pint-sized princess clinging to his arm like a determined koala.

We turned a corner. Passed two guards. Ignored a maid who tried to curtsy and tripped over her own skirts (I sent her a sympathetic thumbs-up as we passed). And finally, we stopped in front of a very serious-looking door.

You know the kind.

Heavy wood. Dark polish. Smelled like ancient paper and tax fraud. Grandpa pushed it open with one hand, and we entered... the study.

Books everywhere.

Stacks. Walls. Shelves. Secret-looking scrolls. A globe in the corner that probably spun on its own during full moons.

I squinted.

Uh-oh.

He gently placed me on a massive velvet couch. The moment my butt touched the cushion, my suspicion levels hit maximum.

He turned and walked toward the nearest bookshelf, hands behind his back like a plotting villain or a particularly smug librarian.

"...Don’t tell me," I whispered, eyes wide with growing horror. "He’s going to give me a book."

He scanned the shelf with all the seriousness of someone about to disown their heir over grammatical errors.

I braced myself.

A tome? A diary? A dictionary?

But then—

Instead of pulling a book out, Grandpa’s hand reached behind the books.

He moved two thick volumes aside—The History of Noble Economics and How to Execute a Coup in Twelve Elegant Steps—and pulled out... a box.

A small, dark wooden box.

It looked old.

Like, "probably cursed" old.

It glinted slightly in the dim candlelight, like it knew it held secrets. I leaned forward, mouth falling open like a baby bird seeing shiny objects.

It looked like a treasure chest.

A tiny, fancy, definitely-might-contain-magic treasure chest.

Grandpa walked back, sat down beside me with a soft grunt (he always does this dramatic exhale like he’s been battling gravity personally), and placed the box on his lap.

Then he looked at me.

Serious.

Soft.

A little sad.

"This..." he began, voice low, "is a family treasure, my precious."

Huh? A family treasure?

"I always wanted to give this to your mother... my daughter."

My eyes widened. My heart skipped a little beat.

"But before I could... before I had the chance..." he trailed off.

A beat of silence.

"I guess... she was already gone."

I reached out slowly, tiny fingers brushing against his coat sleeve. He looked at me again.

"So," he said, pushing the box gently toward me, "as her daughter... this now belongs to you."

The lid creaked open, like an old secret waking up from a nap. Inside... nestled on soft green velvet... was a pendant.

Not just any pendant.

It was green. Shiny. Glowy. Suspiciously magical.

Then he gently lifted the pendant out of the box and held it between us.

"It’s not just a pretty trinket, my precious," he said, voice turning low and important again. "This is safety."

Huh? Safety?

"This pendant is tied to blood. Your blood. Your lineage. If you’re ever in danger... it will shield you for a short time. Long enough... for Cassius to reach you."

He said Cassius like he knew Papa would reach out to me.

And honestly?

Yeah. He would.

So it’s like a magical dad alarm?

Then Grandpa moved closer and, with gentleness, fastened the chain around my neck.

The pendant settled against my chest, warm. Almost... pulsing.

"Keep it with you," he said quietly, brushing my hair back with a hand that had once healed people and now fixed my bangs better than Soren ever could.

I looked up at him.

He wasn’t smiling exactly, but his eyes were softer than usual. My fingers toyed with the pendant resting against my chest.

And now...Now I missed Papa.

More than before.More than I expected.Like a soft ache blooming out of nowhere.

I wonder what he’s doing right now.

...Does he miss me too?