Too Lazy to be a Villainess-Chapter 44: The Divine Beast Who Stole the Spotlight

After Marshmallow hatched out of that divine egg, peace packed its bags and left the Elarion Empire.

Again.

I was just starting to enjoy my days—napping under the sun, eating sweets, and cuddling with my ridiculously soft and slightly clingy baby beast—when the palace exploded into chaos. Nobles poured in like rats after cheese, tripping over themselves just to catch a glimpse of Marshmallow. But this time, it wasn’t just nobles.

The Holy Temple came too. With their golden robes, glowing relics, and holy expressions, they looked like they were auditioning for a painting.

I thought they were here to take Marshmallow away and say something like, "A toddler princess cannot raise a divine beast without a license."

But no.

They bowed.

To Marshmallow.

I’m not joking. They bowed so low I thought one of them would snap in half.

Apparently, my Marshmallow isn’t just an adorable kitty with food crumbs in his fur and a squeaky little roar. According to the High Priest, Marshmallow is the last of the Rakshar.

So... what is a Rakshar?

Well, according to the Holy Temple’s ancient records, the Rakshar was born from the last breath of a dying sun during a celestial war between forces of light and darkness. It wasn’t forged by magic, but by fate itself. Its fur shines like stardust—so bright it can blind a man—and its red eyes glow like embers that never go out.

No wings, no horns, no fiery breath—just raw, divine presence.

Long ago, during the age of the First Emperor—my legendary ancestor—the Rakshar appeared in a forgotten jungle.

Wounded. Cornered. Dying.

The First Emperor saved it during one of his quests for justice. And from that moment on, the Rakshar never left his side. It became his guardian, his shadow, and the symbol of Elarion’s strength.

That’s why our royal crest shows a roaring beast. It’s not a lion or dragon. It’s Rakshar—the empire’s guardian and the First Emperor’s blessing.

And just like that, after the First Emperor’s death, the Rakshar vanished. No one ever saw it again.

Until now.

Everyone says Marshmallow is the return of the divine beast. That the first king has blessed the empire once more. A sign of divine favor. A symbol that Elarion is about to enter a new golden age.

... which is a lot of pressure to put on someone who still pees on my blankets, chews on his own tail, and—sleeps all day. I can’t believe this lazy kitty is a legend.

I was busy eating my cookies, lying on the floor in my nursery, eyes fixed on the ceiling like it owed me something. Marshmallow... was lying beside me too. Sleeping. Again. His chubby belly rising and falling like a tiny pillow made of clouds and fur.

"They both look alike," Marella whispered to Nanny, but I could clearly hear it.

Now I could feel Nanny’s eyes on me. Then she chuckled and said, "You know, there’s a saying—a pet always reflects their owner."

Huh? What does that mean? Are they calling me lazy too? Rude.

Whatever. I’m bored.

I rolled over, stuffed the last cookie into my mouth, and scooped up Marshmallow like a warm, living plush toy. He let out a tiny whimper—peep?—and buried his face in my arm.

"Alright," I announced, dusting crumbs off my dress. "Time to meet Papa."

And just like that, I marched off, carrying Marshmallow like a squishy royal accessory on a mission, heading straight toward Papa’s office. His tail dangled from my arm, swaying with each determined step.

"Seriously... You feel heavy, Marshi," I muttered.

He gave a lazy little mreoow in response. Useless.

Behind me, Marella and Nanny chuckled like I was some kind of walking comedy show.

When I reached Papa’s office, the guards outside straightened up and bowed. "I’m sorry, Princess," one of them said, "but His Majesty is not present at the office."

"Huh?" I tilted my head. "Then where is he?"

"He is at the training ground, my Princess."

"I see...thank you."

I squinted at the sun for dramatic effect (because that’s what nobles do when they’re about to do something important), adjusted Marshmallow in my arms like a loaf of very judgmental bread, and stomped off again.

"To the training ground, then."

***

Imperial Palace, Training ground,

The sun blazed above as I made my grand arrival at the training ground, dragging my feet slightly because Marshmallow was definitely gaining weight from all the stolen snacks.

The clang of swords, grunts of effort, and the occasional yelp of pain filled the air. Knights moved in sharp lines, their armor gleaming with sweat and regret. It smelled like metal and despair.

As soon as I stepped into view, I noticed Ravick.

"Hi, Ravick!" I waved cheerfully.

Ravick immediately abandoned whatever knightly thing he was doing and walked toward me, his boots clinking against the stone.

He bowed low. "Princess Lavinia, what are you doing here?"

"I came to see Papa!" I beamed like I was announcing the arrival of sunshine and sprinkles. Then I blinked, looked around, and added, "Where is he?"

And then—

"Your Majesty... spare us!" —Someone screamed.

My eyes snapped toward the center of the ground—and there he was.

Emperor Cassius Devereux.

My terrifying, beautiful, overachieving father.

He stood in the arena like a war god descending to punish the unworthy. His black coat was tossed aside, his white shirt untucked and half-unbuttoned, his crimson eyes glowing with murderous glee. Muscles flexed under the sunlight as he pointed his sword at a poor knight who looked ready to faint.

Around him lay broken men. Okay, not broken, but definitely bruised and questioning their life decisions.

"NEXT!" Papa thundered. "I’m testing every last one of you today! No exceptions!"

Knights winced. A few even stepped back. The tension was thick enough to slice with a butter knife.

Ravick shifted beside me, nervous. Probably thought I’d burst into tears or beg him to make Papa stop.

Instead, I clutched Marshmallow tighter, sparkles in my eyes, and shouted:

"WOOOOAH! PAPA LOOKS SO SEXYYYY!!"

Dead silence.

Utter. Silence.

The wind stopped. The sun blinked. Even the birds abandoned the scene out of secondhand embarrassment. A knight dropped his helmet. Another stumbled into a dummy. Ravick inhaled like he was being strangled by air.

Marshmallow blinked twice, then buried his face in my chest with a faint peep, probably trying to disassociate.

And in the middle of it all, Papa—

—froze.

Mid-swing.

Sword still raised, expression unreadable, as if time had glitched around him. Then, after a beat, he let out the deepest, most exhausted sigh I had ever heard from a man who’d conquered empires.

"Ravick," he said flatly, lowering his sword, "handle them."

Ravick, looking like a man who had just been granted a pardon from execution, scrambled off to wrangle the poor knights.

Papa turned to me, crimson eyes locked onto my tiny, delighted form. He bent down, grabbed Marshmallow by the scruff with one hand—Marshi let out a sleepy meep—and gently placed him on the grass.

Then, with the other hand, he lifted me.

Like a sack of flour.

I dangled in the air, dress swinging, giggling like a little maniac.

"You," he muttered, squinting up at me, "do you even realize what you just said?"

I beamed. "Yes! Papa, you looked so sexy! Like the knights in Marella’s romance novels! But better, because you’re real!"

Marella gasped and was embarrassed.

"I told you not to read aloud in front of her," Nanny whispered.

"I am sorry," Marella panicked.

Meanwhile, Papa closed his eyes briefly, like he was mentally contacting the gods for strength.

"Where in the world did you even learn that word..."

But I wasn’t listening. "You know, Papa, if more girls saw you like that, they’d faint on the spot and write you love poems!"

He exhaled sharply and set me down.

One of the servants approached and respectfully handed me a cloth to wipe His Majesty’s sweat. Very formal. Very ceremonial.

Instead of doing that, I began circling Papa with the energy of a caffeinated fan girl.

"Papa! You know what? You should get married!" I said, completely serious. "You’re not that old, and you’re very handsome. Even Marshi agrees, don’t you, Marshi?"

Marshi blinked from the ground and flopped over like a fat potato.

"Lavinia—shut up."

"But I’m just saying! I don’t mind a stepmother! She just has to be beautiful. Like, really beautiful. And nice. And—"

He suddenly scooped me back into his arms, face unreadable again, and began walking briskly away from the training ground.

"Papa!" I poked his cheek. "I said I’m fine with it!"

Then I paused.

Wait.

Wait a minute.

My eyes widened in horror as a very important memory popped into my head.

"Oh no. I’m sorry, Papa. I forgot!"

He glanced down, curious. "Forgot what?"

I clapped both hands over my mouth dramatically. "That you and Theon are in love!"

Silence.

Papa stopped walking.

Dead. In. His. Tracks.

His grip tightened just slightly—just enough to know the man was fighting for composure.

Behind us, Marella gasped like I had declared war. Nanny made a choked sound that was suspiciously close to a laugh.

And then—from the far end of the hallway came a thunderous, panicked yell.

"PRINCESSSSSSS!!!!!"

I turned my head innocently. There stood Theon. Face red. Eyes wide. Hair slightly mussed, like he had run into a wall. Twice.

He looked like a man who had just been accused of kissing the Emperor in front of the entire court.

Cassius still hadn’t moved.

"Huh? What happened?" I asked, innocently.