CHAPTER 205: MY CHAOTIC TRIO

[Lavinia’s POV—Princess’s Office—Continuation]

I slid my gaze to the parchment on my desk—the neat, perfect list of noble families waiting to be invited for tea. My finger tapped the page once, deliberately.

"Then it’s settled. Ten days from now. My first tea party... and their first trap."

I let the silence linger, savoring it. Delicious. Heavy. A silence that sounded wicked, as if thunder itself should’ve rumbled after my words.

Until—

"For that... you need to actually select the nobles and begin writing the letters, Your Highness," Sera said flatly, cutting through my villainous moment like a butcher’s knife through pudding.

I groaned, slumping forward. "... Why must you ruin my dramatic pauses? Do you not see I was building atmosphere?"

Sera ignored me like a pro. "Atmosphere doesn’t send invitations."

Ugh. Why was she always right?

Then, out of nowhere—

"Do you want me to help you then?" Rey drawled, his smirk sliding across his face like he’d just offered me the moon.

My head shot up. "...You? You’ll pick the nobles and write the letters?"

He leaned back, folding his arms smugly. "If you pay me better."

I blinked. "You... want a salary? For breathing my air?"

Sera crossed her arms, muttering, "Hah. He’s a money monster."

Rey’s grin widened, nose lifting proudly to the ceiling. "Money loves me, and I love money. It’s a passionate romance—our bond is eternal."

I slapped my palm over my face. "...Unbelievable."

Sera, however, lit up with a mischievous gleam. "Your Highness. Give him loads of work."

I perked up instantly. "Ohhh. Yes. Excellent idea."

I sat back down like a queen on her throne, straightening my papers with regal flair. "Then it’s settled. You’ll write letters to the nobles and carefully select them. With precision. With elegance. With your life

on the line."

Rey’s smile froze. "...Excuse me? I was just Joking."

Sera nodded solemnly, sliding the list toward him like a judge handing down a sentence. "But we were serious. Start immediately."

Rey blinked down at it, then up at us, then back at the list again. "You’re both insane."

I tilted my head, feigning innocence. "Why? Don’t you want to be my temporary personal assistant?"

His jaw tightened. "Princess... I already have mountains of work to do."

I stared at him for a long moment. Then, deadpan: "...And yet here you are. Sitting in my office. Drinking my tea. Breathing my oxygen. Entirely too free."

Rey clicked his tongue, sighing like a man signing his own death warrant. "...Fine. I’ll do it."

Sera sparkled. She literally sparkled, like a gemstone under sunlight, and practically shoved the parchment into his hands. "Splendid! You may begin right now."

Rey stared at her sparkling face, baffled. "...She’s terrifyingly energetic."

I smirked, unfolding my documents with leisurely grace. "That’s because her burden just got lighter."

Sera clasped her hands together, positively glowing now. "Now then... would you both like an apple tart?"

Our heads whipped toward her in unison, eyes lighting up like children promised candy.

"With tea, please!" we chorused.

And just like that, my war council devolved into snack time.

***

[Princess Office—Later]

We crunched the apple tart, sipped tea, and worked through stacks of parchment like little accountants with crowns.

"Your Highness..." Sera’s voice carried the weight of duty even as crumbs clung to her lips. "The rainy season is coming soon. We should start stocking goods in case of floods."

I hummed absently, scratching something on the parchment. "Mhm. Last year we weren’t prepared, right? Alright, let’s be prepared."

"Then shall I draft the royal decree?"

"Yeah, yeah, go ahead." I waved a hand while my eyes stayed glued to the ink. "Speaking of which... are the nobles paying their taxes on time?"

Sera rifled through another pile. "From the outer territories, yes. But... from the Capital..." she trailed off with a grimace.

"Not everyone’s paying since you raised the tax, Your Highness."

I groaned in annoyance. "I told them. I told them clearly—bring me the traitors and I’d lower their taxes. But nooo... they’d rather protect their darlings."

"Because Count Talvan is bending over backward to shield Eleania," Rey cut in lazily, as if the subject were as light as his teacup.

"Of course he is," I muttered, then looked at Sera. "Send warning letters to every noble who hasn’t paid. Stamp them in red. Tell them plainly: pay up or their houses and lands are mine."

Sera nodded crisply.

"Princess," Rey piped up suddenly, licking apple tart crumbs off his fingers, "should I invite House Carlos too? Big family from the north. Very influential. They’ll look good sitting at your table."

I tapped my chin. "House Carlos? ... Sure. Add them."

So we worked—me, Sera, and the most unhelpful-helpful man alive—with snacks and tea at our side. Until—

KNOCK. KNOCK.

The door creaked open.

"Lavi—"

Osric’s voice froze halfway. His feet froze too. His eyes landed on Rey sprawled like a king of crumbs across my couch, leisurely devouring the last bite of apple tart.

Blink.

Osric blinked. Rey blinked. I blinked. Sera blinked. The curtains—yes, even the curtains—blinked. The air itself held its breath.

Then Rey, shameless, raised a hand in greeting. "Ah. Lord Osric. Long time no see. How’s the Grand Duek-ly work going?"

. . .

. . .

Then the temperature in the chamber dropped ten degrees. Osric’s hand shot to his sword, steel singing as it slid out. His eyes—colder than icebergs—locked on Rey.

"HOW. DARE. YOU LOUNGE IN THE PRINCESS’S CHAMBER. LIKE. IT’S. YOUR. TAVERN!"

He was storming forward, murder written in every vein on his forehead.

I sprang up from my seat, dashing in front of him before the room turned into a bloodbath. "Osric, calm down! He’s helping me."

Osric’s eyes flared, voice sharp as his blade. "Helping you?! Lavi, he’s a parasite. What could this useless guild master possibly do for you?"

Rey sat up, clutching his chest as if wounded. "Excuse me?! That hurts, okay. I am very useful. Extremely useful. Look!" He snatched up the parchment pile and waved it proudly. "See? I’m even writing letters for her. By hand. Beautiful penmanship, might I add."

Osric’s jaw clenched, his knuckles whitening around his sword hilt. "Letters? You dare sully her correspondence with your filthy fingers?"

"Filthy?!" Rey gasped theatrically, eyes wide. "I washed my hands with rosewater, thank you very much. These fingers are practically scented treasures!"

Sera, caught between a dueling storm and a circus, whispered aside to me, "Hehe...Lord Osric seems... jealous."

Rey muttered back with a smug expression, "He doesn’t seem. He is."

Osric growled, "Step away from her couch before I cut you into letter-sized pieces myself."

Rey smirked, leaning back with criminal nonchalance. "Go ahead. But if I die, who’s going to write all those nice invitations, hm? Certainly not you, Lord ’Swing-First-Think-Later.’"

The sword raised another inch.

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "By the gods. One hour. One peaceful hour. That’s all I asked for. And now my chamber looks like the prelude to a duel poster."

Rey beamed. "If it helps, Princess, I’m rooting for me."

"REY!" Osric roared.

"OSRIC!" I roared back, stomping my foot. "If either of you spills even a drop of blood on my carpet, I’ll feed you both to the Chancellor’s paperwork pile. And trust me—it’s worse than death."

The silence that followed was sharp... until Sera cleared her throat delicately.

"Would anyone like more apple tart?"

Both men froze again.

And in unison—like children caught fighting—Rey and Osric muttered:

"...With tea, please."

Just like that, the air in the chamber... settled. Externally. Calm. Polite. Almost civilized. Internally? Osric still looked two seconds away from skewering Rey like a roast chicken.

I dropped into my chair, shoulders sagging, muttering to myself, "Handling men is too tough. Too much snarling, not enough sense."

Osric’s sharp eyes flicked to me, softening. "Are you upset?"

I waved a hand tiredly, parchment sliding across the table. "No... not upset. Just... exhausted. I have too much work to do today."

He shifted—smooth as a cat—and in the next moment, he was beside me. Close. Too close. His voice dropped low, a little husky. "Do you want me to calm you down?"

My head snapped toward him. "...What exactly are you planning to do?"

A slow, infuriatingly smug smile curved his lips as he leaned closer, so close his breath tickled against my cheek. "Whatever..." his voice dipped to a sinful whisper, "my princess wants."

... ... ...

My entire face went up in flames. "Wow," I breathed, staring at him like he’d grown horns, "seducing me in broad daylight? With witnesses?"

Osric’s only answer was an innocent smile that fooled exactly no one.

Trying to collect myself, I forced my gaze downward—only for it to land on the faint scar along his arm. My chest tightened. I reached out, fingertips brushing the wound as gently as a butterfly’s wing.

"How’s your wound?" I asked quietly.

His eyes softened. "Not bad. It doesn’t hurt anymore."

"Good." My smile sharpened into something wicked. "Because if you dare get hurt again... I might really kill someone for real."

Behind me, Rey clutched his chest dramatically, groaning, "Aww, how romantic. Murder threats as a love language. My heart, it bleeds!"

Sera, deadpan as ever, muttered, "You’ll be witnessing more in upcoming days."

We all smirked—different shades of mischief, affection, and sarcasm. And that’s when it hit me, sharp and warm all at once.

I looked around at them—my knight and love, my guild master, and my lady-in-waiting. A chaotic trio, but mine nonetheless.

And for the first time in a long while... I realized:I guess I’ve found my people.The ones who would never betray me.