I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)

Philia kept his pace measured, his boots making a dull, flat sound against the floor. Behind him, Valen followed in silence, his presence like a shadow.

The deeper they went into the servants’ quarters, the louder the noise became. Raised voices bounced off the walls from every direction. Orders were barked, furniture scraped across the floor, boots thundered through the corridors, and somewhere farther ahead, someone was crying so hard they could barely catch their breath.

The hallway outside the servants’ quarters was packed. Guards had sealed off both ends of the corridor, forcing a growing crowd of anxious maids and kitchen hands to remain where they were.

Some clutched one another’s sleeves, others whispered prayers beneath their breath, but every pair of eyes stayed fixed on the rooms being searched. From inside came the steady sound of drawers being emptied, trunks forced open, and heavy furniture dragged aside in the relentless hunt for anything suspicious.

”Move along, please,” a guard barked, his hand instantly dropping to the hilt of his sword as Philia approached. But the moment the guard took a proper look at them, his tone changed. His eyes lingered briefly on the fine embroidery woven into Philia’s robes before shifting to Valen, who stood quietly at his lord’s shoulder without saying a word.

He quickly pulled his hand away, clearing his throat. ”My apologies, My Lord. The area is currently restricted by order of the Captain.”

Before Philia could offer an excuse for his presence, the door to the shared quarters creaked open.

Yerel stepped out first, his sharp eyes instantly scanning the hallway. Right behind him came Gillian, whose face was still a mottled, furious red, followed by Zarius.

Yerel’s gaze locked onto Philia almost instantly, his brow lifting in a look of quiet, calculating amusement.

”A bit far from the your chamber, aren’t you, Philia?” Yerel asked. ”What brings you here?”

”I merely wanted to check on the situation myself, Your Highness,” Philia answered. He offered a small, respectful tilt of his head toward Gillian. ”I heard about what happened.”

Gillian let out a harsh, bitter breath, but before he could snap a reply, a sudden, piercing shriek tore through the oppressive atmosphere of the corridor.

”Lord Philia”

Two young kitchen maids, their aprons smeared with charcoal and flour, broke past the outstretched arm of a distracted guard. They didn’t see the princes, and they certainly didn’t care about the imperial armor blocking the path. The moment they spotted Philia, they threw themselves forward, their faces pale and streaked with dark lines of soot and tears.

One of them grabbed a handful of Philia’s sleeve, her fingers trembling violently. ”Wina... My Lord... it’s Wina... she’s... she’s dead!”

Philia didn’t flinch. He didn’t pull his arm away from the dirty fabric of her fingers. Instead, he immediately shifted, his entire demeanor softening into something profoundly grounding and gentle. He reached out, his fingers wrapping around the girl’s shaking wrists, pulling both maids closer to him with a quiet, shushing sound.

”Calm down. Take a breath,” Philia murmured, his voice dropping into a low, soothing register that seemed to cut right through their hysteria. He looked directly into the first girl’s frantic eyes. ”Look at me. Tell me exactly what happened.”

The girl swallowed hard, her chest heaving as she tried to gather enough air to speak. ”She... she went to the forest at dawn, my lord. Wina always goes early to gather the ingredients before the kitchens fire up, or just take a quiet walk before the head chef starts yelling. But hours went by. By the time the breakfast shift began, Wina still hadn’t come back. That wasn’t like her at all.”

The second maid chimed in, her voice cracking. ”We started looking around. We checked the kitchens, the pantries, and every corner of the servants’ quarters. We asked the gardeners, the stable hands, even the gate guards, but no one had seen her come back. We were just about to head out to the forest when Sir Karson stopped us.”

The first maid nodded frantically, a fresh wave of tears spilling over her cheeks. ”We hadn’t even walked ten minutes into the forest, My Lord. We... wefound her. She was just lying there beneath the old oak tree. Already cold.”

Philia’s fingers gently tapped the girl’s wrist in a slow, rhythmic pattern. ”Did she seem off to you recently? Yesterday, perhaps? Did she say anything unusual before she left the quarters this morning?”

Both maids shook their heads violently, their hair falling out of their messy pins.

”No! Nothing at all,” the second girl sobbed. ”She was laughing with us last night. She was completely normal. She didn’t have any enemies, she didn’t!”

Philia turned his gaze away from the girls, looking up to meet Yerel’s eyes. ”And the cause of death, Prince Yerel? Has the physician confirmed it?”

”Poison,” Yerel answered flatly, his voice carrying clearly over the low murmurs of the hallway. ”A heavy, lethal dose of hemlock. The empty glass vial was found right next to her fingers, and a signed confession was folded inside her apron pocket. As matters currently stand, it appears to have been suicide.”

The two maids looked up at Philia, absolute bewilderment painted across their tear-stained faces. ”Why would she do that? It doesn’t make any sense... it’s a mistake, it has to be a mistake...”

Their voices dissolved back into ragged, breathless weeping, their strength giving out entirely as they leaned heavily against Philia’s chest.

Philia didn’t offer a single word of correction. He merely hushed them again, a sound as soft as a summer breeze, and drew both of the sobbing girls into a tight, protective embrace. He gently drew both of them against him, letting them hide their tear-streaked faces against his shoulder. Sheltered in his embrace, the noise and confusion of the corridor seemed to fade into the background.

Over their heads, he looked across the corridor, his attention moving past Yerel and settling on Zarius. The Duke was still resting against the stone wall, looking as though even standing upright had become an effort.

Philia’s hands moved between the two maids, one resting reassuringly on each of their shoulders as he held them close. He gave them a few quiet pats.

”It’s alright,” Philia whispered, his voice soft enough that only the two girls could hear. ”Don’t hold it in. If you need to cry, then cry. Let it out. Everything is going to be alright now. I promise.”