I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)

Zarius stood by the wide stone archway of the estate entrance, his arms crossed over his chest as the distant sound of carriage wheels echoed through the courtyard. The bizarre, phantom chill that had aggressively raced down his spine hours earlier in his study had finally faded, leaving behind a lingering, restless urge to see his partner return in one piece.

The carriage’s doors swung open, and Marielle stepped out first, practically bouncing with a strange, high-energy excitement. But when Cherion stepped down, Zarius’s brow immediately furrowed.

Cherion looked entirely miserable. His posture was slumped with pure exhaustion, his formal collar was aggressively yanked open at the throat, and his face carried a deeply irritated, dark expression. He didn’t look like someone who had just attended an exclusive gathering, but he looked like a man who had barely survived a grueling shift in the trenches.

Zarius stepped forward, his massive frame easily cutting across the courtyard to close the distance between them. He reached out, his large, scarred hand resting gently against the small of Cherion’s back, a grounding, protective weight.

”What happened?” Zarius asked, his deep, gravelly voice dropping into a low, commanding register as his eyes sharply scanned Cherion for any hidden injuries. ”Did someone touch you?”

Cherion just let out a long, deeply exhausted sigh, rubbing his temples. ”Don’t ask, Zarius. Just... give me a minute.”

”Oh, you wouldn’t believe it, brother!” Marielle chimed in, completely unable to hold her tongue any longer as she walked alongside them into the grand hallway. ”It was an absolute circus! Some pathetic, arrogant brat named Heinrich tried to throw a boiling pot of tea right at Cherion’s head!”

Zarius froze. The air in the hallway instantly plummeted into a suffocating, lethal cold. His jaw clenched so hard the muscles twitched violently, and his hands balled into tight fists at his sides. A blatant physical assault in the middle of a formal gathering hosted by the capital’s high society was an insult to the entire North, and a direct threat to the person he cared about most.

”Heinrich?” Zarius rumbled, his voice dripping with absolute venom. He didn’t care about the boy’s titles or his connections. He turned his head slightly, his eyes locking onto Flio, who stood just a few paces behind him. ”Flio.”

”My Lord?” Flio responded, instantly picking up on the terrifying aura radiating from his master.

”Find out exactly which family this Heinrich belongs to,” Zarius ordered, his tone flat, cold, and leaving absolutely no room for negotiation. ”I want everything. Their estate location, their financial backers, their political standing, and their family patriarch. If the capital thinks they can openly target my partner and walk away unscathed, they are sorely mistaken.”

”Right away, Your Grace,” Flio said with a serious nod, immediately turning back into the study to draft the information requests.

”Wait, Zarius, hold on, that’s not even the best part,” Marielle interrupted quickly, waving her hands to get her brother’s attention before he could order a full military mobilization. ”You didn’t let me finish. Cherion completely handled it. In fact, your partner became a little hero today!”

Zarius paused, his intense gaze shifting back down to Cherion, who was currently leaning against a pillar, looking thoroughly done with the conversation. ”A hero?”

”Yes!” Marielle said proudly, her eyes sparkling as she eagerly recounted the theater of the afternoon. ”After that idiot Heinrich was kicked out in absolute disgrace, Marchioness Avery tried to smooth things over by serving these ridiculous, highly anticipated pastries from a new shop or whatever. But they were so incredibly dense and dry that her only son, Derrick, started violently choking on his very first bite! He was suffocating right at the table.”

Marielle took a breath, puffing out her chest. ”But Cherion didn’t hesitate for a single second. He marched right over, hauled Derrick upright, and performed this incredibly strange, aggressive-looking squeeze from behind. He slammed his fists right into the boy’s stomach, and tak! The pastry flew right out of his mouth across the table! He saved the Marchioness’s heir right in front of everyone!”

As Zarius listened to his sister’s animated storytelling, the rigid, lethal tension in his broad shoulders slowly began to melt away. He looked at Cherion, imagining the scene, the stuffy, arrogant nobles panicking over etiquette and liability, while his practical, blunt partner simply stepped in and solved the problem with raw common sense.

A look of intense pride washed over Zarius’s rugged face. His lips curved into a faint, amused smirk.

”You did well,” Zarius murmured softly, his deep voice carrying a wave of profound respect and warmth as he looked down at his partner.

Despite the heavy praise from his sister and the rare, proud smile from the intimidating Northern Beast, Cherion still put on a thoroughly miserable expression. He didn’t look proud or accomplished at all. He just looked thoroughly annoyed by the entire existence of the capital.

Upon arriving in their room, the doors closed, finally cutting them off from the rest of the bustling estate. Cherion immediately walked over to the edge of the bed and threw himself onto it, face-first into the pillows, letting out a muffled groan of pure exhaustion.

Zarius closed the distance slowly, his massive frame towering over the bed. Seeing his partner so uncharacteristically deflated made an unfamiliar tug pull at his chest. He wanted to wipe that annoyed look off Cherion’s face and actually cheer him up.

”If it makes you feel any better,” Zarius began, his rough voice carrying a rare, dry trace of humor as he leaned against the heavy bedpost, ”I can go find this Heinrich myself. I’ll pour a scalding pot of hot tea right back onto him. No, actually, not just onto him, I’ll have my men pour it all over his entire house.”

Cherion buried his face deeper into the pillow for a second before finally rolling over. A small, genuine smile tugged at the corner of his lips, breaking through his dark mood. He let out a soft huff of amusement, sitting up on the edge of the mattress.

”You’re ridiculous,” Cherion murmured, though the warmth in his eyes showed he appreciated the absurd, aggressive gesture. He reached out, grabbing Zarius by his forearm, and forcefully pushed the massive duke down into the heavy armchair beside the bed. ”Sit down. You’re making the room feel smaller.”

Zarius complied without a fight, sitting back and keeping his sharp eyes locked on Cherion’s face.

Cherion smoothed out his messy hair, his expression turning entirely serious as the humor faded away. He looked directly at Zarius, his gaze piercing. ”You know, even though I didn’t get what I originally wanted out of that gathering, I certainly left with something.”

Zarius remained entirely silent, his posture locking up slightly as he waited for Cherion to continue. He could tell by the sudden change in his partner’s tone that this wasn’t about the dry pastries or the useless nobles anymore.

”It’s about Iryna’s betrothal thing,” Cherion said, leaning forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. ”You told me about her situation before. But I heard something interesting. I heard that your name was brought up as a candidate for her betrothal file. Is that true?”

Zarius didn’t move a muscle. Whatever reaction he might have had vanished behind a face of pure stone.

He absolutely hated it when Flio was right.