I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)

Flio could only stare at the man standing over him. His breath came in short, uneven gasps, and somehow the greenhouse felt much smaller than it had moments ago.

For a moment, Flio’s mind simply refused to process the sentence. It was absurd. Completely improper, completely against everything Flio had been taught to do as Zarius’s aide. Asking him to abandon Zarius wasn’t just asking him to leave his position. It meant walking away from the person he’d devoted himself to serving.

”Do you even realize what you just said?” Flio’s voice cracked slightly. He forced his jaw to set, fighting to pull his usual composure back over his face. ”Tell me this is but a jest, Karson.”

Karson didn’t blink. The sunlight filtering through the high glass dome caught the sharp lines of his face, leaving deep shadows beneath his cheekbones. He didn’t look like a man who had just made a fool of himself. He looked terrifyingly resolute.

”I never joke,” Karson said softly, his voice dangerously smooth and quiet. ”Not when it concerns us.”

Flio swallowed dryly, his hand tightening into a fist at his side. He forced himself to maintain eye contact, though every instinct in his body was screaming at him to take a massive step backward, to put the marble planters between them. But he held his ground.

”Then you should already know my answer,” Flio replied. He tried to project absolute certainty, to make his voice a solid wall that Karson would finally crash against and stop.

”I do,” Karson admitted without a shred of hesitation. A faint, bitter curve touched the corner of his lips, softening the intense stare just a fraction. It was a terribly sad smile, one that looked entirely out of place on the face of the Crown Prince’s aide. ”But I had to take the chance anyway. Who knows? Perhaps the universe might have finally decided to side with me for once.”

Flio looked at him, startled by how vulnerable Karson suddenly looked. It made an uncomfortable ache settle in the pit of Flio’s stomach. He didn’t want to see this. He didn’t want to know just how much this man was struggling because of him.

It was easier when Karson was just annoying, a persistent noble who liked to hover around the edges of Zarius’s entourage. This quiet, desperate sincerity was a weapon Flio didn’t know how to parry.

”Sadly, no,” Flio said, his voice quiet but incredibly firm. ”It isn’t.”

He didn’t wait for Karson to reply. Exhaling a sharp breath, Flio reached out his right hand to finally reclaim his monocle, which was still dangling loosely from Karson’s fingers. He just wanted his lens back. He wanted to adjust his uniform, turn around, and walk out of this suffocating heat.

But as Flio’s fingers brushed the thin chain, Karson’s arm moved.

Instead of letting go, Karson deliberately raised his hand higher, lifting the delicate glass lens just out of reach. Flio’s hand shot upward on pure reflex to catch it.

Instead of grabbing the metal frame, his fingers slid forcefully against Karson’s palm.

Before Flio could pull back, Karson shifted his grip, his fingers wrapping around Flio’s hand. The movement was so quick, and Karson’s grip so firm, that their hands collided around the thin monocle chain. The abrupt pull shifted Flio’s center of gravity, dragging him a half-step forward until the toes of his boots nearly bumped against Karson’s shoes.

The remaining distance between them vanished. Flio’s breath caught violently in his chest. They were standing so close that Flio could feel the ambient radiating off the silk clothes, could smell the sharp, clean scent of cedar and expensive soap cutting through the greenhouse humidity.

Karson’s hand was scorching warm against Flio’s skin, his fingers tightening around Flio’s.

For a long, agonizingly stretched moment, neither of them moved. The distant hum of the palace courtyard outside was completely muted by the thick glass walls. All Flio could hear was the frantic, heavy thudding of his own heart. He stared up, wide-eyed and rigidly tense, directly into Karson’s dark eyes.

Karson looked down at him with an intensity that made it harder for Flio to keep his composure. His thumb shifted slightly, brushing a slow, deliberate line against the back of Flio’s knuckles.

”It’s not too late, Flio,” Karson murmured. ”It never is.”

The sound of his name, spoken with such obvious longing, finally snapped Flio out of his paralysis.

With a sharp, forceful jerk, Flio twisted his wrist. He wrenched his hand out of Karson’s grip, his fingers snatching the monocle free in the same violent motion. He immediately took two large steps back, his boots scraping harshly against the damp tiles, putting a safe, undeniable distance between them.

He straightened his back and squared his shoulders, forcing himself into a proper stance.

”Thank you so much for your time, Karson, and for trying to help me search,” Flio said. His voice was completely stripped of any casual warmth, replaced by a rigid, excessively formal tone that drew a concrete wall between them. He clenched his jaw, keeping his face as neutral as possible. ”I appreciate the effort.”

Karson didn’t move. His empty hand still hovered in the air where Flio had broken his grip.

”However,” Flio continued, his voice hardening into a warning. ”If our paths should cross again, I hope I will have the sense not to stand there and listen to such nonsense from you.”

Karson slowly let his hand fall back to his side. He looked at Flio, taking in the defensive posture, the cold glare, the absolute refusal etched into every line of his face. The raw desperation in Karson’s eyes slowly bled away, replaced by something much darker and far more difficult to read. He closed his eyes briefly, letting out a faint, quiet exhale that sounded almost like a sigh of defeat.

”Forgive me for upsetting you,” Karson said, His voice returned to its usual calm, courteous manner. ”I promise you, Flio... this will be the last time I offer such things to you.”

Flio didn’t care to decipher the slight, strange weight behind the promise. He was just relieved the conversation was over, then quickly turned away. He didn’t look back as he marched down the pathway.

Karson remained exactly where he was beside the marble planter. He just stood there in the dappled sunlight, his gaze fixed on the spot where Flio had disappeared. The polite, apologetic expression he had just worn melted away, leaving his face terrifyingly blank.

Slowly, he raised his hand, looking down at his own palm where Flio’s skin had pressed against his just moments ago. A faint smile appeared on Karson’s lips, but there was no warmth behind it.

”Never say I didn’t give you a chance, Flio.”