Too Lazy to be a Villainess-Chapter 57: The Glittering Princess

"My, my... looks like our princess has really grown up," Nanny said fondly as she gently combed my hair for the banquet.

"Huh?" I blinked up at Nanny, confused, then glanced at the mirror.

Before I could even process it, Marella, standing nearby, clutched her chest dramatically and wailed, "I can’t believe today she turns four... and soon she’ll turn twenty-four... and get married... I can’t believe our little princess is growing up so fast!"

WHAT?!

I whipped my head toward her, almost knocking the comb out of Nanny’s hands.

Hey! I’m just FOUR years old! Calm down, woman!

Still, when I peered into the mirror again... I had to admit, maybe they had a point. I did look a little taller. And... undeniably more beautiful. Maybe... this was the effect of the elf-blood in me? Elves were tall, right? And pretty?

Well, it’s not like Papa is short either. I had to admit it proudly — I have an excellent bloodline. A perfect blend of powerful, beautiful genes.

"Now... it’s done. Our princess is all ready for the banquet party," Nanny declared, placing a sparkling tiara gently atop my head.

And now...

"Woah..." I breathed, mesmerized. "I am so beautiful."

Nanny and Marella chuckled, exchanging a look, and then Nanny leaned down to kiss my cheek. "Indeed, our princess is the most beautiful," she said warmly.

I smiled, basking in the praise.

And then — knock knock knock!

The door creaked open, and a familiar figure appeared — tall, imposing, wrapped in dark armor that gleamed under the chandelier light.

Sir Ravick.

He still wore his serious "I hate fun" face — like he was always secretly judging bad soup recipes — but when he saw me, his whole demeanor softened. His lips twitched into a tiny, almost shy smile.

Like, even he couldn’t believe how cute I looked.

"Your Highness," he said, clearing his throat gruffly, "His Majesty awaits."

Without a second thought, I bolted toward him.

"Coming~!" I chirped happily.

Skidding to a stop before him, I tilted my head and asked sweetly, "Ravick... how do I look?"

He crouched down, kneeling on one knee, and studied me very seriously, as if my outfit required a full military inspection.

"You look..." he paused, searching for the perfect word, "...very radiant today, Your Highness."

I beamed so brightly I could’ve lit up the entire palace.

"I know!" I said proudly.

Sir Ravick coughed into his glove, probably to hide a laugh, and rose back to his full height. "Come. His Majesty is waiting at the end of the hallway."

I nodded importantly and grabbed the sides of my skirt like I’d been taught — one hand on each side, lift slightly, walk gracefully. (No more cannonball-princess behavior.)

Before leaving, I turned back to where Marshmallow, my beloved little kitty, was busy licking his tail.

"Marshi! Let’s go!" I called.

Marshmallow lifted his head, gave me a resigned Why must I suffer? look, and padded after me.

Time to walk properly. Princess mode: ON.

Except...

As we marched down the long, glittering hallway, I couldn’t help sneaking peeks at every shiny surface we passed — tall mirrors, polished vases, and the breastplates of statues in full armor. Each reflection confirmed it.

I looked magnificent.

Today wasn’t just any normal birthday banquet, after all.

Today marked an important moment for the empire — the first time the elves would gather, not as foreign dignitaries, but as part of the imperial family. My family.

At the very end of the crimson-draped hallway stood the person I had been waiting for.

Papa.

Cassius Devereux.

Tonight, Papa was the picture of imperial majesty: a sleek black uniform trimmed with gold, a cloak flowing behind him like a river of midnight, and the imperial crown glinting atop his long golden hair.

But when he saw me, that usual stern, battle-hardened look melted away. His crimson eyes softened instantly — warm, proud, and so very full of love.

I could tell. Even from far away.

I grinned so wide it nearly split my face in half. "Paaapaaaa~~~!" I squealed.

I gathered my dress and zoomed down the hallway (so much for walking gracefully), stopping right in front of him. I twirled like a little top, making my skirts flare dramatically.

"Papa! How do I look?!" I asked, puffing my chest out proudly.

Papa stared. His mouth twitched. He tilted his head slightly, like he was really evaluating me with a professional inspector’s eye.

"...Like a small glittery ball," he said with a completely straight face.

"WHAT?!"

Behind me, I heard Sir Ravick and Theon — another of Papa’s knights — barely containing their laughter, their shoulders shaking with the effort.

I gasped in betrayal.

"A—A small glittery ball?!" I repeated indignantly. "Papa! I grew taller! I’m elegant! I’m dazzling! I’m—"

"You grew taller?" Papa interrupted, like I had just claimed I could fly.

"Yes!" I hopped up and down like an angry rabbit, puffing up my chest. "I really grew taller!"

He peered at me with the same serious face he used when discussing empire policies. "Hmm... you did grow taller... but mostly from the cheeks and sideways."

I stood there, frozen, like someone had smacked me with a frozen fish.

"You... you’re saying I got FAT?!" I wailed, clutching my (perfectly elegant) cheeks.

Papa tilted his head again, looking completely honest. "Haven’t you realized?"

There was a long, horrified silence. I stared at him. He stared back.

Was this really my father? Or was this an imposter wearing my father’s face?! Should I call the guards?! Should I summon the mages?!

And then — he chuckled softly, kneeling down to my level. His hand ruffled my carefully curled hair with absolutely no mercy, turning my elegant princess hairstyle into a bird’s nest in two seconds flat.

"You really did grow taller, my darling," he said, his voice soft and warm like hot cocoa. "And you look... astonishingly beautiful."

Then he kissed my hair.

My cheeks turned bright pink.

Hmph. Well... I suppose...

Since he praised me handsomely, I could forgive him. After all, being a daughter meant I had to be magnanimous.

(Sigh) It’s so hard being the bigger person sometimes.

Papa chuckled again and then, with a little dramatic flourish, extended his hand toward me. "Now... shall we go? There are people waiting for us."

I straightened my back proudly, like a proper princess should, and placed my hand into his. "Yes... let’s go!" I declared.

Papa smiled, gently wrapping his fingers around mine.

Theon stepped forward smartly, giving a sharp glance at the guards stationed by the massive banquet doors. "Announce His Majesty and Her Highness, the Imperial Princess," he ordered.

The guards immediately straightened their backs, clanging their spears to the ground with a loud, ceremonial thud that echoed down the grand hallway.

I couldn’t help but squeeze Papa’s hand a little tighter.It was almost time.The banquet. The first one where Mama’s people — the elves — would attend not as outsiders, but as family.

My family.

The heavy doors groaned as they began to open, revealing a golden-lit banquet hall filled with nobles, dignitaries, and—Gulp.—lots and lots of staring eyes.

And then, as the guards’ voices rang out loudly, announcing our presence, Papa leaned down slightly—and in one smooth, swooping motion, picked me up effortlessly.

I clutched onto his robe like a little squirrel hanging onto a tree branch. And now, from up high in Papa’s arms, I could see everything — the glittering chandeliers, the endless rows of nobles, the long tables filled with golden plates and mountains of delicious food (I may have drooled a little bit), and...

Whoa.

There were so many people here today. More than usual. Way, way more.

And they all, as if choreographed by some invisible hand, dropped to one knee or bowed deeply at the sight of us, saying loudly and in unison:

"We greet His Majesty the Emperor and the Imperial Princess of the Elarion Empire!"

The booming chorus echoed through the entire hall, rattling the very spoons on the tables.

As we moved gracefully down the red carpet, I noticed the different groups of people. There were humans, of course, dressed in flashy, colorful outfits, their jewels sparkling under the chandeliers...

And then—The elves.

They stood gathered with quiet dignity, wrapped in elegant, natural-colored garments embroidered with delicate silver and green patterns. Their long hair shimmered softly, and their pointed ears peeked through proudly.

Unlike the humans, their emotions weren’t loud, but it was clear in the way some of them smiled or clutched their hands tightly — they were proud. Proud and a little emotional.

And standing near Papa’s throne—I spotted Grandpa Thalein.

My face lit up instantly. Without thinking, I waved at him enthusiastically like I was greeting my best friend at a candy store.

Grandpa Thalein’s expression softened. He placed a hand over his heart and bowed his head slightly back at me and papa — a graceful, elven way of waving. (Grandpa is always so cool.)

It felt natural to me — waving at my grandpa — but then I noticed it.

The looks. Whispers, stiffened backs, wide eyes.

The humans... the nobles... they were staring. Some were blinking like fish. Some were whispering behind fans. Some even looked like their brains had just crashed.

Huh?I blinked in confusion.

What? Never seen a grand-daughter waving at her grandpa before?

Geez. What’s the big deal?

He’s my grandpa and I’m his granddaughter, simple!

I lifted my chin proudly.

Well...I have to say, I have a cool grandpa.

But just as I was preparing to bask in my own coolness...

—Shiver.

I froze.

Suddenly, a chill slithered down my spine, prickling the hairs on the back of my neck.

Huh...? I tightened my little fists around Papa’s robe without even realizing it.

Something was wrong. Something felt off.

It felt like... something invisible had brushed past me. Something that didn’t belong in the warmth of this hall.

I glanced around quickly — at the crowd, at the banquet tables, at the smiling faces.Everything looked normal.Everyone was clapping, bowing, smiling politely.

But somewhere — somewhere in that sea of faces —I felt it.

Something dark and heavy.

Lurking.

Watching.

Waiting.

...Or maybe...maybe I was just imagining things.