Too Lazy to be a Villainess-Chapter 61: End of My Disastrous Birthday

Ravick draped his bloodied jacket over my shoulders before scooping me into his arms. I trembled—partly from the cold, partly from the fear that still hadn’t left my bones. I had never run like that before. Never to save myself. Never while someone chased me with the intent to make me disappear.

And Osric...he had followed us, concerned.

"It’s alright... You’re safe, my princess," Ravick murmured again and again, like a lullaby meant to calm a crying child. But I wasn’t calm. And I wasn’t sure I ever would be again.

My birthday dress clung to me, soaked not in my own blood—but theirs. The assassins. The ones who tried to take me.

By the time we crossed into the main palace, the air was thick with urgency. Footsteps echoed across marble, too many to count.

"THE PRINCESS HAS RETURNED! INFORM HIS MAJESTY!" someone shouted.

Marella came barreling toward me, eyes wide and glistening with tears. "Princess! Thank the stars, you’re safe—oh heavens, we thought you... You had actually been kidnapped, Princess!"

I flinched at her voice—it rang through the halls like a trumpet, sharp and unmissable. But even as her words reached me, I couldn’t help scanning the crowd behind her.

Where was Nanny?

She wasn’t with the others.

My fingers tightened around Ravick’s robe, knuckles white. Ah... right. I remembered now—she was struck. On the head. While protecting me.

A lump formed in my throat.

Please... let her be alright.

Around me, chaos reigned. Guards yelling orders. Blood trailing behind us. Panic buzzing through the halls like hornets.

And then—

"HIS MAJESTY HAS ARRIVED!!"

I whipped my head toward the stairs, my heart leaping.

Papa.

He descended like a storm given flesh—each step echoing power, every inch of him drenched in blood. Not his, I hoped... Perhaps the assassins who tried to take me. Behind him, Grandfather Gregor and Grand Duke Regis followed, their expressions hard as chiseled stone.

Papa’s gaze swept the hall, sharp and burning—and then, it found me.

His gaze was terrifying. It wasn’t the anger. It was the rage. The kind that could even kill gods. But it didn’t matter.

Because it was him.

"PAPA!!" I cried, squirming from Ravick’s arms and running toward him.

He knelt, silent. His blood-covered hands reached for my face. Gently, like I would break.

"Lavinia..." he whispered.

Then he pulled me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me tightly. And for a moment—I was safe. Really safe.

But just as quickly, he flinched.

And then—he pushed me away.

"Wha...?" I stumbled, a sharp twist of confusion and pain tightening in my chest. Did Papa just... push me?

Why?

Why would he do that?

Does he not see I need him now more than ever?

"Take the princess to her chamber," he said, his voice cold, steely—like a blade sliding back into its sheath—as he turned his back on me.

And just like that—my heart shattered.

How... how could he do that?

I had almost died today. His only daughter—almost gone. And the one place I thought I’d find comfort, the one person I believed would never turn away from me... just did.

My lips trembled. My chest ached like it was caving in. I didn’t even realize I was crying until the tears slipped silently down my cheeks.

"Hngh...! Wahhh...! Wahhh...!"

I broke down right there, in the middle of the palace hallway—small, shaking, and utterly heartbroken.

Papa flinched.

He turned, eyes darting toward me. The cold mask he wore cracked—just slightly—but enough. I saw it. I saw the war behind his eyes. He wanted to come to me. To hold me. But something held him back.

Marella panicked, her voice cracking, "P-Princess—please, you’re safe now. Don’t cry—"

But I couldn’t stop.I couldn’t.

I wanted him. I wanted my papa, my family—my everything. And he had turned away from me when I needed him the most.

Then Grandpa Gregor stepped beside him. His voice was low but sharp like a blade."Seriously... After everything, she needs her father. How can you turn away from her now?"

Papa froze.

He looked at me—then down at his hands. Bloody. Shaking.

"...I’m drenched in blood," he whispered, almost to himself.

"Don’t you know?" Grandfather said gently. "Your daughter doesn’t mind that."

Papa went silent.

I sobbed again, hiccuping, "Papa...!"

And that was it.

He moved—one step. Then another. And then, in a heartbeat, I was in his arms again. He scooped me up and held me so tightly, it almost hurt—but I never wanted him to let go.

"There, there... it’s over now, my child. You’re safe," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, each word trembling like it might break.

"Hic!" I hiccupped, clutching his blood-soaked tunic with my tiny fingers.

I buried my face in the crook of his neck, the scent of blood and ash clinging to him.

But I didn’t care.

He was here.

I had him back.

And that was all I needed.

Before I could fully embrace my darling papa’s warmth, a sudden thunder of footsteps echoed from above—

"MY PRECIOUS CHILD!!!"

Heads turned. Gasps followed.

Down the grand staircase came Grandpa Thalein, robes billowing like sails in a storm, silver hair gleaming beneath the chandelier light, eyes wild with panic. Behind him trailed what looked like half the elven delegation, equally wide-eyed and flustered, weapons drawn—bows, blades, and even a floating orb of light that someone definitely wasn’t cleared to bring into the palace.

"MOVE—GET OUT OF THE WAY!" Grandpa barked, elegant and wrathful, like an elven hurricane with a soft spot for pink bows and glitter. "WHERE IS MY GRANDDAUGHTER?! MY PRECIOUS, ONLY GRANDDAUGHTER!"

Then his eyes landed on me.

For a second, everyone thought he would calm down.

He didn’t.

Instead, he bolted down the last three steps like a meteor and launched himself toward me.

"My darling sun-blossom!" he gasped, hands trembling as he clutched mine. "Did you get hurt? Tell Grandpa where it hurts. I shall personally hex the bones of anyone who laid a finger on you!"

I sniffled. Hiccuped. Blinked once. Then twice.

And with the most solemn pout I could muster, I lifted my frock just a little, revealing the horror beneath.

"Look, Grandpa," I said gravely, pointing to my scraped knee. "I’m bleeding."

A beat of silence.

Then—

"SWEET STARS ABOVE!!" Grandpa shrieked. "HER KNEE—LOOK AT HER PRECIOUS KNEE!!"

I could feel the air shift.

A dark aura, thick and icy, began to evaporate from Papa like he’d turned into a wrathful spirit ready to burn the world.

Grandpa held my tiny hands with fierce tenderness. "Don’t worry, my child," he declared with absolute confidence. "Grandpa will heal you instantly."

And just like that, the Healer of the Elven Kingdom, the greatest master of ancient healing arts, knelt before me as if I were the most precious treasure in the world and began to chant softly.

A gentle green light swirled around my knees, warm and soothing, like a soft breeze on a spring morning. It tickled as it wrapped around the scrapes, washing away the sting, the ache, even the blood itself.

"Shh, there you go, my brave flower," Grandpa whispered, his voice as soft as moonlight. The glow pulsed one last time before fading completely. "Gone, just like that. No pain, no scar, not even a memory left behind."

I blinked.

Stared.

Then I wiggled my legs experimentally.

No pain. No cut. No trace of disaster.

I stared in awe. The pain really was gone.

"...Woah. It’s so cool, Grandpa," I breathed, staring at my perfectly healed knees.

But then I turned my gaze, eyes landing on a certain someone who stood nearby—his clothes dirtied, cheeks scraped, and a determined look still lingering on his small face.

"Grandpa..." I tugged on his sleeve and pointed. "Please heal Osric too. He’s injured too."

Grandpa blinked. "Osric...?"

Before he could ask more, Sir Ravick stepped forward and bowed respectfully. "Our little lord has protected our princess bravely, Your Majesty."

Papa’s crimson gaze turned sharply toward Osric. I felt the weight of his eyes shift to me.

I gave a firm little nod.

Across the room, Grandpa Gregor beamed with pride, his chest puffed out like a peacock. Grand Duke Regis’s usual coolness broke for a second as a proud smile curled on his lips.

With a hum of approval, Grandpa Thalein gave a graceful nod and knelt before Osric, his fingers glowing with soft magic once more.

Osric flinched slightly at first but stood tall as the green light swirled around him.

Within seconds, the scratches on his cheeks and arms vanished like they’d never been there.

"Done," Grandpa said kindly, rising to his feet.

Then Grand Duke Regis walked over to Osric and gently patted his head. "Good job, my son." His voice was deep and steady. "Remember... you have to protect our princess like this, always."

Osric nodded, eyes wide and proud, his cheeks turning the faintest shade of pink.

And just like that, in a swirl of magic, chaos, and tears...my disastrous birthday finally came to an end.

I was safe. Osric was brave. Grandpa had saved the day. Papa was still brooding, but slightly less terrifying.

And me?

I decided birthdays were exhausting. Maybe next year we could just eat cake and nap instead.