I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)

”A body?!”

Their voices rang out almost in perfect unison. Iryna stared at Marielle with wide, disbelieving eyes. Beside her bed, Gillian stood equally rigid, his hands clenched tightly at his sides as his jaw locked in sheer disbelief.

Around the bed, a tense gathering of Cherion, Zarius, and the others from the North absorbed the shock.

”Yes,” Marielle replied. She leaned against one of the carved wooden pillars of the bedpost, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her gaze fixed on the intricate patterns of the carpet rather than the princess.

Elios shifted his weight near the foot of the bed, his brow furrowing deeply. ”First the Princess, now this?”

Marielle ran a frustrated hand through her hair, a deep sigh escaping her. ”My guts say it’s connected to the Princess’s poisoning. You don’t have a royal assassination attempt and a dead body within the span of a single night by sheer coincidence.”

Elios let out a sharp, humorless breath, his eyes darting toward the curtained windows. ”So you want to say it’s victim number two? That whoever targeted Iryna is systematically cleaning up their trail, or worse, expanding their list?”

”Maybe, maybe not,” Marielle replied as she straightened up. She raised her hands in a gesture of reluctant defeat. ”We don’t have that much information to work on right now. Speculating without the official report is just spinning circles in the dark. But ignoring a dead body right here on the palace grounds feels like an invitation for a blade in the back.”

Standing slightly apart from the rest, Flio stepped forward, his expression weary. He placed a calming hand on Marielle’s shoulder, offering a rare voice of restraint. ”It’s better if we don’t have any speculation now. A lot can happen during a chaotic time like last night. Panic makes people do desperate things, and accidents happen when the entire imperial guard is drawing steel. Let’s not assume the worst just yet.”

”Brother,” Reiner scoffed from the corner of the room. ”Someone died. I don’t think we can assume anything good anymore.”

The grim words hung heavily in the dim room, dropping the temperature by a few degrees. Nobody contradicted him. The reality of their vulnerability was a bitter pill to swallow, especially for men who had spent their lives believing the palace walls were impenetrable.

Zarius stood near the center of the chamber, deliberately keeping himself detached from the low, frantic arguments of the others. He listened to the conversation with a cold, practiced neutrality, absorbing every theory, every micro-expression, and every shift in tone. To the rest of the room, he was a pillar of stoic composure, the fearsome Duke whose emotions were as hard as iron.

But his focus wasn’t truly on the debate of dead body and missing poisons.

His gaze drifted away from the group, crossing the room toward the large arched window. There, bathed in the faint, filtered light cutting through the edge of the velvet drape, sat Cherion.

Cherion was exceptionally quiet, his slender frame curled slightly into the large cushioned chair. He looked incredibly small against the heavy, dark wood of the furniture. His hands were clasped loosely in his lap, his fingers completely still, but his eyes were wide, staring fixedly at a single point on the floor.

He looked deeply lost in thought, his mind clearly running through a labyrinth of his own making, weighing pieces of information the others couldn’t even see.

A sudden, fierce wave of protectiveness surged through Zarius’s chest. He didn’t care about the politics in that moment, nor did he care about the mystery surrounding the body. His only reality was the silent, brooding figure by the window.

Zarius moved silently, his heavy boots making no sound against the thick rugs as he crossed the room. He closed the distance between them, stepping into the quiet pocket of space Cherion had built around himself.

Leaning down, Zarius gently reached out. His large, warm hand, usually reserved for holding the hilt of a sword or signing execution orders, was impossibly tender as he pressed his fingers against Cherion’s temple, slowly caressing his forehead. He traced the soft skin, deliberately trying to smooth away the invisible tension knotting Cherion’s brow. Zarius’s thumb brushed lightly over his hairline, a silent, grounding reassurance that no matter how loud the world outside became, they were right here.

Cherion blinked, pulled out of his deep thoughts by the sudden warmth. He looked up, his gaze meeting Zarius’s dark, steady eyes. For a fraction of a second, the heavy burden in Cherion’s expression lifted. A soft, genuine smile touched his lips. He didn’t say a word, but he leaned slightly into the touch of Zarius’s hand, accepting the quiet comfort without hesitation.

The peaceful moment was instantly shattered by a sharp, rhythmic knock at the heavy oak door.

The entire room went dead silent. Marielle’s hand instinctively dropped toward her hip, while Elios straightened up, his eyes narrowing. Zarius didn’t pull his hand away immediately. He took a second to let his fingers slip from Cherion’s forehead before turning his body to face the entrance, his expression hardening back into an impenetrable mask.

”Enter,” Gillian commanded from his position near the head of the bed.

The heavy door creaked open, revealing a tense, breathless Imperial Guard. He quickly stepped into the room, bowing deeply with his hand pressed firmly over his heart.

”Forgive the interruption, Your Highnesses, Your Grace,” the guard spoke, his voice tightly controlled but laced with urgency. He straightened up, his eyes fixing directly on the prince. ”His Majesty requests the presence of Prince Gillian at once.”

Gillian let out a sharp breath, his jaw tightening. He looked back at Iryna, who simply stared back at him. A flash of profound weariness crossed his face before he hid it again.

”Fine, I will go,” Gillian said, adjusting the heavy cuffs of his tunic as he stepped away from the bedside. He turned toward Marielle, Flio, the others, his expression grave. ”Please, accompany Iryna while I am away. Do not leave this room unattended under any circumstances. Do not let her leave the room. If she attempts to, or if any unauthorized personnel try to cross the threshold, use whatever force is necessary.”

”Hey!” Iryna protested immediately from the background, pushing herself upright against the pillows with a frown.

”Understood, Your Highness,” Flio replied, bowing his head respectfully while Marielle gave a firm, resolute nod.

Gillian began to make his way toward the door, his heavy strides echoing in the quiet room. The guard stepped aside to clear the path, keeping his head lowered in deference.

However, just as Gillian reached the threshold, the guard hesitated, his eyes darting back into the chamber. He cleared his throat, his posture shifting uncomfortably under the sudden weight of Zarius’s piercing stare.

”Ah,” the guard added, his voice faltering slightly as he bowed again toward the window. ”Since Duke Zarius is also here. Forgive me, Your Grace. His Majesty also asks for you to come as well.”