Too Lazy to be a Villainess-Chapter 81: Absolutely, Undoubtedly, Unquestionably Papa’s Girl

[Lavinia’s Pov]

Lysander sat back on the couch, giggling like someone had just told him Santa was real and paid taxes. "I’m... a big brother," he whispered like a dreamer on a sugar high. "I am a big brother. I’m a big brother."

Good for you, Sir Redhair Enthusiasm.

Me?

I was reclining like a mini monarch with a grape in each cheek, munching with the elegance of someone who had once filed quarterly taxes and survived Karen from HR. Life was good.

Until it wasn’t.

Because someone suddenly blinked like a memory slapped him in the face with a wet sandal.

"Oh right... Earlier you said you were feeling lonely," Lysander said, tilting his head like a confused squirrel. "I wonder why?"

Oh.

Uh-oh.

Mayday. Red alert. All systems down.

I froze mid-chew. One grape. One treacherous, juicy grape now tasted like lies and betrayal.

And then I felt it.

That presence.

Grandpa Thalein turned toward me slowly—like he’d just heard his favorite soap opera character die in the finale. His eyes? Wet. Trembling. Sparkly in the way like a baby deer witnessing a thunderstorm for the first time.

"My precious... do... do you feel... lonely?"

I blinked. Strategically.

"Nope!"

His lip did the wobble. Oh no. Not the wobble. That’s grandpa-level emotional warfare.

"But—"

"No, Grandpa!" I flailed my arms like a frantic air traffic controller trying to divert feelings. "I just—I just missed Papa, that’s all!"

"You did?" both Grandpa and Lysander chorused, but with very different vibes. One was soft and sparkly. The other sounded like he was ready to adopt me for tax benefits.

"I always sleep with Papa!" I said proudly. "I fall asleep in his arms every night. He smells like cedarwood and pancakes. But today, he wasn’t there. So I got lonely."

Everyone nodded in solemn understanding.

Until I added, a bit too honestly:"But just because of that! Not because I don’t love everyone else! And definitely not because Grandpa smells like herbs and foot ointment!"

Grandpa gasped like I’d stabbed his soul with a very tiny, very rude butter knife. "My heart!"

"That was uncalled for," Lysander muttered.

"You snuck through the palace at midnight in your nightgown like a ghost on a mission," I hissed.

"...Fair."

Lysander leaned forward, that mischievous grin returning to his face like it paid rent there. "Well, if you miss Papa that much, how about I—your handsome, brave, very sweet older brother—take his place?"

I paused.

Mid-grape.

The betrayal tasted fermented.

My eyes narrowed, glowing with the power of ancient transmigrated fury. "Take... Papa’s place?"

"Yes," he smiled, as if he hadn’t just committed treason in the form of sibling enthusiasm.

"NO ONE," I declared—grape juice dribbling down my chin like war paint—"CAN TAKE PAPA’S PLACE."

Silence.

Like, magical elf-ppocalypse-level silence.

Even the grapes stopped photosynthesizing.

Ravick gave me a solemn thumbs-up like a knight kneeling before a feral queen. Marella and Nanny looked like they wanted to embroider this moment on a tapestry and hang it above the royal fireplace.

Even the guard in the corner let out a cough-snort. Victory noises engaged.

Lysander’s smile wilted like a salad in the sun.

"Okay, okay," he muttered, hands up like I was pointing a sword instead of wearing pink socks with kittens on them. "Calm down, small and terrifying one. I meant—what if I took Papa’s place... temporarily?"

My eyes sparkled.

And not the pretty princess sparkle. The gremlin plotting revenge sparkles.

"NOT EVEN TEMPORARY."

The silence now had an echo.

Lysander slumped back like his soul had been yeeted into space. "So... I don’t have any chance."

"Nope," I said sweetly, popping the last grape into my mouth like a gavel. "Papa’s irreplaceable. He’s my one and only big, warm bedtime heater."

"...Big warm bedtime heater," Lysander echoed, looking like he was questioning his life choices.

"I climbed palace walls, risked my life, and got bludgeoned by a senior citizen for this," he muttered.

"You also broke into my room like a total weirdo," I helpfully reminded him.

"That was for flair!" he cried.

Grandpa patted my head with a proud glint in his eye. "You really are Cassius’s little girl."

"I know," I beamed. "And when I go back, I’m going to tell Papa everything. Especially about the suspicious redhead trying to snuggle into my bedtime spot."

Lysander flinched like I’d summoned a tax auditor. "You wouldn’t."

"Oh, I would."

Grandpa looked delighted. Like villain-level delighted. "You’re doomed."

"I feel bullied," Lysander groaned, sliding deeper into the cushions like he was trying to become furniture.

"You should feel bullied," Ravick said dryly, crossing his arms like a disapproving wall of muscle.

I sprawled on the couch like a champion. Chaos had been served. Loyalty had triumphed. A small redhead had been crushed under the boot of justice.

Papa would be so proud.

Just as Lysander slid off the couch like a deflated balloon, Grandpa clapped his hands twice, activating the Important Grandpa Voice™.

"Alright, my precious ones," he declared, "it’s getting late. Time to head to bed."

I pouted. I had a master’s degree in pouting.

"But I’m not sleepy!"

"You literally yawned thirty seconds ago," Nanny said.

"That was a fake yawn."

"You drooled."

"Strategic drool."

Grandpa chuckled, leaning in close. "You’ll want to sleep early, my darling, because tomorrow..."

Dramatic pause.

Marella leaned in. Even Ravick’s eyebrow raised an inch.

"...you’ll be exploring the city."

WHAT.

I blinked. My soul pirouetted out of my body, performed three Broadway numbers, and reentered wearing sunglasses and a "CITY GIRL" sash.

"REALLY?!" I gasped, bouncing like a hyperactive cupcake.

Grandpa nodded. "Really. A carriage ride. Fancy plazas. Important people waving. And maybe—just maybe—a sweet shop."

"YAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!" I shrieked, loud enough to cause a minor castle-wide panic. "I’m going to the city! I’m going to see elves! And eat elf candy! And maybe wear a sparkly hat!"

He kissed my forehead. His beard tickled like a fuzzy blessing.

"Sleep tight, my precious. Tomorrow’s a big day."

I marched out of the room like a tiny general headed for battle.

Except my battle was elf candy.

And maybe goose-riding.

Don’t question it.

I had plans.

Big ones.

***

[The Next Day]

I awoke before the sun.

Because that’s what warriors do.

Also because I may have set fourteen mental alarms before I went to sleep.

This was the day. The day I, Lavinia Devereux Starshimmer Featherquill—yes, I added some names for drama—would descend upon the city like a sparkly storm.

And baby, I was ready.

I stood in front of my mirror, arms crossed, sunglasses on.They were oversized, dramatic, and made me look like I was about to fire someone in a fashion drama.Or adopt an ancient sword.Or both.

My outfit?A black and red combination frock. Gothic royalty meets cupcake danger.

"I totally look like some cute Hollywood celebrity child," I mumbled to myself.

Then I picked up Marshi, who was also wearing tiny goggles—yes, tiny goggles. He blinked once, very dramatically.

"LET’S GO," I declared.

Marshi meowed, full of the same chaotic energy as me.

Then... I slumped. Just a little.

"I really miss Papa," I mumbled, my sunglasses sliding down slightly as my dramatic energy took a nosedive.

But only for a second.

Because then—I perked right back up, fists clenched with renewed determination.

"Alright! I need to enjoy every moment here so I can go back and tell him everything. Every single, sparkly, candy-filled detail!"

Marshi meowed again, possibly in agreement.

Or maybe he just wanted snacks.

Either way, the mission was back on.

Alright. I spun around.Hair fluffed. Sunglasses tilted.I was totally ready.

Perfection.

I kicked open the door.

"I AM READY FOR THE CITY," I announced like I was declaring war on boring days. "BEHOLD."

Ravick and the guards flinched. Then Ravick blinked slowly, like his soul had just left his body for a brief vacation.

"...What."

I pointed both hands at myself with jazz hands. "City Mode: Activated."

Ravick pinched the bridge of his nose. "Princess, you look like you’re about to attend a magical girl talent show hosted by a dragon."

"Exactly."

Grandpa Thalein shuffled into the hall just then, wearing his big ceremonial cloak.His eyes landed on me.

He stopped.

Stared.

Then he beamed like a proud grandpa at a disaster he helped raise.

"My darling," he said with a sniff, "you look so beautiful."

I ran into him and hugged him tightly. "Thank you, Grandpa."

Then Grandpa bent down and scooped me up in his arms, his cloak swishing behind him like we were entering a royal parade.

"Shall we go?"

I nodded dramatically, pointing one tiny finger forward.

"TO THE CARRIAGE!" I echoed, with the authority of a five-year-old general leading her army of sparkles and chaos.

Marshi bounced after me, goggles slightly askew, ready for adventure—or snacks. Probably both.

I was so excited to explore the elf city. The sights, the sweets, the sparkly ribbons—I was ready for it all.

But what I didn’t know... was that today would bring more than just candy and carriages.

There would be chaos.

There would be surprises.

And it would all begin with one unexpected meeting... With another cousin of mine.