I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)

Zarius didn’t move an inch. He stayed pressed into the deep shadow, his breath held low in his chest as he watched the silver-haired boy kneel before the grand statue. The chapel was quiet. All he could hear was the boy struggling to catch his breath.

Zarius closed his eyes briefly, letting out a silent, exhausted breath. He hadn’t come to the grand temple tonight for this. He had come here strictly to locate the high priest, to find some sort of lead or cure for the terrifying, aggressive physical decline that had been tearing his body apart.

For now, his body was at peace. The night always spared him for a few precious hours, but morning would bring the agony rushing back. He needed answers, not a front-row seat to a stranger’s midnight breakdown.

I should have just left the second I realized the high priest wasn’t here, Zarius thought bitterly, his jaw tightening as he stared at the boy’s head.

But he was entirely trapped. The corridor was quiet except for the occasional jingle of the temple guards’ keys as they made their rounds. The moment he stepped outside, they’d spot him.

A northern duke sneaking around the holy sanctuary in the dead of night wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have tomorrow. So, against his own will, he was forced to stand perfectly still and listen.

”Why?” the boy whispered, his forehead pressing against his clasped hands. ”Why won’t Yerel just look at me? I’ve done everything to please him. And for what? The moment Philia steps into the room, I might as well be part of the furniture.”

Zarius’s eyebrows rose slightly in the dark. Yerel? And Philia?

He knew Yerel, the Crown Prince. Their paths had crossed more times than he cared to count, enough for him to know exactly what kind of man Yerel was. Close, however, was another matter entirely.

But Zarius had never actually laid eyes on Philia. He only knew the name because of the reports Flio had quietly dumped onto his desk. According to Flio’s investigation, Philia was a sudden, mysterious newcomerk a figure whom Yerel had personally brought back to the imperial palace. Zarius had originally dismissed the reports as typical capital gossip, assuming Yerel was just keeping a useful puppet close by.

So the perfect Crown Prince has someone weeping over him in the dark, Zarius almost laughed. Almost. The thought was dry enough to amuse him, even if it did little to ease his irritation. From the sounds of it, the boy was deeply, hopelessly infatuated, and utterly miserable because of it.

”It’s always Philia,” the boy continued, his voice rose slightly, every word weighed down by months of pent-up resentment. ”The kind, perfect Philia who never makes a mistake, who always seemed to know exactly what to say, who always smiles so sweetly while he pushes me out of the conversation. I am the one who is supposed to be the only one by Yerel’s side. I am the one who willing to do anything for him, but he treats me like a nuisance.”

Zarius watched the boy’s shoulders tremble beneath the black cloak draped around him. The resentment in the boy’s voice wasn’t even trying to hide anymore. Zarius found himself listening more closely.

To everyone else, Philia was the very picture of kindness. Gentle, patient, and endlessly compassionate, he carried himself with such effortless grace that people couldn’t help but admire him. It was easy to believe he could do no wrong. Yet through this boy’s eyes, that same man looked entirely different. Philia wasn’t a saint to be admired but a carefully calculated obstacle, someone who always seemed to step into the spotlight first and leave him standing in the shadows.

Zarius paid little attention to gossip, but he’d spent enough years among nobles to recognize what he was hearing. This wasn’t ordinary jealousy. It was the anger of someone who had spent far too long being overlooked.

The boy let out a sharp, ragged breath and slowly straightened. He looked up at the stone figure, his eyes burning with anger instead of devotion.

”You’re supposed to be fair, aren’t you?” the boy muttered, his words bordering on flat-out sacrilege as he wiped a stray tear from his cheek with the back of his hand. ”Then why does the he get everything while I’m left to beg for scraps of attention? It’s infuriating. It makes me want to burn the whole palace down.”

A fiery one, Zarius noted dryly. For someone who looked so delicate and pale in the candlelight, the boy certainly didn’t lack teeth. He was practically threatening the heavens because a prince wouldn’t look at him.

The sound of the guards’ keys had faded into the distance. Outside the chapel, all was quiet. Zarius had heard more than enough, and he had absolutely no desire to involve himself in whatever messy, dramatic love triangle was happening within the imperial family. He needed to return back, rest his body, and prepare for the morning.

He shifted his weight carefully, intending to melt backward into the side corridor and vanish into the night without a trace.

But as he moved, his heavy leather boot scuffed faintly against a small patch of loose, dry grit on the stone floor.

In the absolute, dead silence of the chapel, the tiny scraping sound was incredibly loud.

The boy went completely still.

He didn’t scream. He didn’t bolt. His body simply went tense. The grief on his face disappeared almost instantly, replaced by wary caution. He spun toward the columns beside the altar, his gaze sharp as it swept through the shadows.

”Who’s there?” the boy demanded. He scrambled to his feet, his hands clenching into tight fists at his sides as he stared directly toward the pillar where Zarius was standing. ”Step out. Right now. I know someone is back there!”

Zarius let out a slow, silent sigh through his nose, his shoulders dropping slightly. Sneaking away now would just make him look like a spy or an assassin caught in the act. If the boy panicked and raised a full alarm, the entire temple would be locked down, and Zarius would be caught red-handed. It was a ridiculous situation to be in, but the cleanest way out was to just face the kid, act unbothered, and walk out through the front doors like he owned the place.

Stepping out from the heavy shadow, Zarius walked into the dim, flickering amber glow of the altar candles.

Zarius stepped out from the shadows. Candlelight fell across his broad frame as his black cloak brushed the floor behind him. Even without saying a word, his presence filled the chapel. The silver-haired boy stiffened the moment he saw him.

The boy blinked. For just a moment, the guarded look on his face slipped as he stared up at the towering man who had stepped out of the shadows. The faint tracks of dried tears were still visible on his pale cheeks, but his jaw remained stubbornly set as he glared at the giant standing before him.

”Who are you?!”