I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)

”May you have a safe journey, Your Holiness.”

The Grand Temple’s carriage was already waiting. The High Priest stepped into the interior with grace, his golden robes sweeping softly over the wooden step before the heavy velvet curtains fell shut.

Cherion stood beside Zarius, watching the ornate carriage roll away toward the outer gates.

”So,” Cherion murmured, leaning slightly closer to Zarius without actually touching him. ”Are we actually going to visit the Grand Temple? Or was that just you being polite to a holy man who looks like he lives on blessing and tea?”

Zarius didn’t shift his gaze from the road, but the sharp line of his jaw softened just a fraction. ”I will leave that decision up to you. If you wish to go, we go. If you think his Holiness has an agenda, we stay far away.”

A small, amused smile touched Cherion’s lips. He adjusted his sleeve, suppressing the urge to shake his head. Apparently, temple diplomacy was now in the hands of a former Taco Hell employee-turned-transmigrated jealous villain, Cherion thought dryly. You really have way too much faith in me, Duke.

”I’ll think about it,” Cherion said softly. Then, nudging Zarius’s forearm with his elbow, his tone flipped into something far more curious. ”By the way... what were you and the King actually talking about back there? He didn’t give you a hard time, did he? Did he ask you to do something weird?”

Zarius exhaled a short, quiet breath through his nose, his eyes turning down to meet Cherion’s. ”Well... yes and no.”

Cherion stopped walking entirely, blinking up at him in sheer disbelief. ”What do you mean, ’yes and no’? What kind of answer is that?”

”It is an answer best explained behind closed doors,” Zarius replied smoothly. He reached out, his broad palm resting lightly against the small of Cherion’s shoulder. ”Let us discuss it once we are home. This isn’t the place to discuss it.”

Cherion huffed, letting out an annoyed little hum, but he didn’t fight the push. He knew Zarius well enough by now to know when the man was being genuinely cautious versus when he was just being frustrating.

When they realized Flio was still nowhere to be found, Zarius paused. ”Elios,” he called out. ”Go toward the glass gardens and find Flio. We’re leaving.”

”Oh! No need, Your Grace!” Elios chimed, his face lighting up as he raised a arm to point toward the side courtyard. ”There he is!”

Down the shaded path, Flio was walking toward them at a measured pace. His posture was as straight as a iron rod, his uniform crisp and utterly free of dust. As he drew closer, his fingers lifted briefly to adjust the thin gold chain of his monocle, settling the glass neatly over his right eye. He looked completely composed, completely steady, without a single hair out of place.

”My apologies for keeping you waiting, Your Grace, Lord Cherion,” Flio said, stopping a respectful distance away and offering a low bow. ”I was delayed while looking for a lost item.”

”My lucky charm!” Elios blurted out, lifting the little charm hanging from its worn cord. ”Look, Flio! I found it! It was dropped right near the pillar by Princess Iryna’s chambers!”

Flio’s gaze dropped to the charm, but his expression didn’t change. ”Good for you. Try not to lose it again before we reach the carriage because I won’t help you find it again if you lose it.”

”Hey!”

”You should be grateful I didn’t demand half your salary for this.”

Elios protested, but Flio had already turned his attention back to Zarius, Flio’s tone dropped into his familiar, clinical professionalism. ”Shall we depart, Your Grace? I believe your business here is concluded.”

Zarius didn’t answer immediately. His eyes lingered on Flio’s face for a second longer than necessary, taking in the rigid line of the aide’s shoulders and the faint tightness around his mouth. But Zarius didn’t ask. He simply nodded.

”Yes,” Zarius said. ”Let us head home.”

The carriage ride back to the Valtrane estate was quiet. The rhythmic clopping of the horses’ hooves against the cobbled streets provided a steady background hum while Cherion leaned his head against the cushioned frame, watching the capital’s bustle fade into the quieter, grander avenues of the noble district.

When the doors of the ducal manor finally swung open, the familiar scent of polished beeswax and old paper washed over them.

Zarius stepped into the main foyer, unbuttoning the top closure of his high-collared coat. ”Flio,” he called over his shoulder. ”Find Marielle. Tell her to come to my study immediately.”

Flio bowed automatically. ”Right away, Your Grace.”

Cherion watched Flio march off down the hallway before turning his sharp gaze back to Zarius. He didn’t wait for an invitation, he followed the Duke straight up the grand staircase, through the double doors, and into his study.

As soon as the doors closed, Cherion crossed his arms and leaned against the long table.

”Alright, we are home,” Cherion declared, tilting his head up with a clear don’t-try-to-evade-me look. ”No more stalling, Zarius. What did the King say to you? What on earth is going on?”

Zarius unbuckled his heavy sword belt, setting it on the desk with a dull thud. He stood there for a moment, his broad back turned to Cherion, before he let out a long, heavy sigh that sounded remarkably exhausted like a man who had just finished a marathon, only to realize he’d taken a shortcut and now had to run the whole thing again just to avoid being called a cheater or embarrassing his family.

He turned around, resting his knuckles against the edge of the desk, looking at Cherion with an expression that was a bizarre mix of sheer disbelief and mild headache.

”The King... presented a proposal,” Zarius began slowly, choosing his words as if he were trying to translate a foreign language. ”One that originated directly from the Solaric delegation.”

Cherion frowned, leaning forward a fraction. ”A proposal? About the south?”

”No,” Zarius said flatly. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, the stoic Duke looking entirely thrown off his usual axis. ”Not about the border.”

”Then what?” Cherion pressed, his patience wearing thin. ”Ah! Don’t tell me it’s about the betrothal?! He wants you to marry Iryna?!”

Zarius looked him straight in the eye, shook his head, and delivered the news in his usual calm tone.

”Princess Iryna wants to marry Marielle.”

Cherion went silent and was like oh.

A potential marriage between two characters who were never even mentioned together in the novel?

Ha. Of course this would happen. Why wouldn’t it?