Page 215 of The Villainess Chose Naps Over Death Flags

"I did," Carol agreed.

"You were right."

"I usually am," Carol said with a smile.

Caspian huffed a quiet laugh. "Yes. You are."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching their children play.

Callum had finally caught the Dreamweaver kitten and was now being groomed aggressively by his griffin, who apparently thought he was too messy. Cordelia had wandered over to Caelan and was showing him her frost serpent with careful pride. Celeste was making tiny water sculptures dance in the air with her magic, delighted by her own abilities.

"I'm glad I chose this," Carol said softly. "You. This life."

Caspian's arm came around her shoulders, pulling her closer. "I'm glad you chose me too."

He leaned down and kissed her temple, gentle and warm.

"Father! Father, watch this!"

Caelan was calling for attention, his small face bright with excitement.

Caspian looked over, still holding baby Cyrion carefully in one arm.

"Show me," Caspian called back.

Caelan concentrated, and this time, his Matter Manipulation created something more complex—not just flower shapes, but an entire miniature garden of earth and stone, complete with tiny pathways and walls.

"Excellent control," Caspian praised. "You've been practicing."

Caelan beamed, and Carol's heart squeezed with love.

Her serious, responsible firstborn, so eager to make his father proud.

"Can I show you mine now?" Celeste asked eagerly, her hands already glowing with soft blue light.

"Of course," Caspian said. "Show me."

Celeste concentrated, and water began to coalesce in the air above her palms, shaping itself into delicate floating spheres. She moved her fingers, and the water orbs began to dance in intricate patterns.

"Beautiful, Celeste," Caspian said warmly. "Your control is remarkable for your age."

Celeste giggled with delight, making the water spheres spin faster.

Carol smiled and settled more comfortably against Caspian's side.

The sun was beginning its slow descent toward evening, painting the sky in shades of gold and pink. The garden smelled of flowers and fresh grass. Her children's laughter mixed with the chirps and sounds of their companion creatures.

Somewhere in the estate, Shadow was probably napping in his favorite spot. Mochi would be draped across something comfortable. Snowball would be coiled in her cold room. Sunny would be perched on the roof, watching over everything.

The Murder still nested in the trees, ever vigilant. Medusa still guarded the entrances in her flowered blindfold. And Mr. Whiskers... well, Mr. Whiskers existed somewhere, pleased that his chosen person was content.

Carol closed her eyes and let herself simply feel this moment.

I died from overwork in my old life, she thought. Died alone at my desk at twenty-eight, exhausted and burnt out.

I transmigrated into a villainess. Accidentally trapped a duke with a seduction spell meant for someone else. Got seven death flags hanging over my head.

I could have chosen revenge. Could have chosen the powerful sorceress path or the adventurer's route.