Page 149 of The Villainess Chose Naps Over Death Flags

"You don't believe the rumors," Caspian said slowly, testing.

"Some of them are obviously ridiculous," Lady Caroline said. "Like the one where you supposedly killed a hundred men with a thought. That's clearly impossible. Maybe twenty. Thirty at most."

Caspian felt his mouth twitch.

Was she... was she actually calculating the plausible limits of his killing capacity? As if it were a math problem?

"Thirty," he repeated.

"Well, I don't know the exact limits of Matter Manipulation," Lady Caroline admitted with complete seriousness. "But a hundred seems excessive. People always exaggerate numbers when they're frightened."

His mother was smiling now. Actually smiling. His father's expression had thawed slightly from glacial to merely cool.

And Caspian found himself... intrigued.

"Lady Caroline," his mother said. "How refreshing to meet someone so... forthright."

The conversation continued, Lady Caroline's parents attempting damage control while she remained cheerfully unrepentant about her brutal honesty.

Caspian watched her, fascinated despite himself.

She wasn't performing. Wasn't calculating her words for maximum political advantage. She was just... saying what she thought.

When was the last time someone had done that around him?

"You're not afraid," Caspian observed.

Lady Caroline looked him up and down with that same assessing gaze. "Of you? Should I be? Have you killed anyone at a ball recently?"

"Not recently, no."

"Then I think I'm safe," she said. "Besides, you're here with your mother. I can't imagine The Butcher of the North doing anything to upset his mother at a formal event."

His mother laughed—actually laughed.

And Caspian felt something unfamiliar stirring. Something that might have been... hope?

Here was someone who looked at him and saw a person. Not a weapon. Not a monster. Just a man with an unfortunate reputation and an overprotective mother.

"You mentioned my titles," Caspian said, surprising himself. "Do you have a preference?"

Lady Caroline considered this with the same seriousness she'd applied to his kill count. "The Frost Reaper is the most poetic. Winter's Blade has a nice ring to it. But The Butcher of the North is the most honest, isn't it? You do kill a lot of things."

"Monsters," Caspian corrected quietly. "I kill monsters."

"Blightspawn," Lady Caroline said, nodding. "The corrupted creatures from the wasteland. I've read about them."

She'd read about the Blight. Actually studied the threat his family spent generations containing.

"You've read about the Blight?" Caspian asked.

"I like to know what's actually happening in the kingdom," Lady Caroline said. "Not just court gossip and fashion trends. The Blight is spreading. Someone has to contain it. That's your family's responsibility, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Then the titles make sense," she said simply. "You're not a monster. You're just doing what needs to be done. People fear you because you're effective at killing things that need to be killed. It's practical, really."

Practical.