I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)

The grand courtyard of the royal palace was a chaotic sea of crystal lanterns, clattering carriage wheels, and shouting footmen. Later that night, the capital nobility was streaming out of the gates in a frantic, dignified rush, eager to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the lingering stench of royal murder plots.

Among them was the Northern group. Neither Zarius nor Cherion had any intention of staying another night at the palace. They stood near the grand marble mounting block, waiting for their heavy carriages to be brought around from the stables.

"Lord Cherion!"

Cherion turned his head at the sound of his title. A small group of capital nobles, a baron and two high-ranking court ladies, were walking nervously toward them, their silk cloaks gathered tightly against the cool night wind.

Cherion braced himself, but to his utter surprise, the baron stopped a few paces away and bowed deeply, his face pale with sheepish embarrassment.

"We... we wished to offer our sincere apologies, Lord Cherion," the baron stammered out, wringing his gloved hands. "Before the Crown Prince spoke tonight, there were... foul rumors circulating. Absurd tales suggesting you had a hand in Princess Iryna’s poisoning out of... out of jealousy over His Grace."

The baron’s wife nodded hurriedly, her face burning with shame. "We were foolish to lend an ear to such nonsense. We are deeply sorry for repeating such slander."

Cherion blinked, completely caught off guard by the sudden wave of public repentance. Beside him, Zarius’s eyes narrowed slightly, but Cherion quickly offered a small, easy smile, waving a hand in dismissive grace.

"Ah, please... think nothing of it," Cherion said softly, his voice light and unbothered. "In times of panic, people tend to believe the strangest things. I hold no grudge."

The nobles looked immensely relieved, bowing once more before practically fleeing toward their waiting coach.

"Lord Cherion !"

Another voice, much warmer and far more energetic, called out from the crowd. Young Derrick came striding over, followed by his parents, the Marquess and Marchioness Avery.

"Are those thick-headed fools bothering you again?" Derrick asked, shooting a glare over his shoulder at the departing baron before turning to Cherion with a bright, earnest grin. "I’m so glad Crown Prince Yerel publicly put an end to those ridiculous rumors tonight! Though honestly, some of these nobles are still far too thick-faced to admit how wrong they were."

"Derrick, mind your manners," Marchioness Avery scolded gently, though her eyes were filled with warm affection as she smiled at Cherion. "We are simply glad to see you unharmed, Lord Cherion . The court can be a vicious place, but truth always finds its way to the surface."

"Thank you, Lady Avery," Cherion said genuinely, feeling a touch of real warmth in his chest. "And thank you, Lord Derrick, for your unwavering support."

Derrick waved it off, his eyes shifting toward Zarius. He took in the Duke’s relaxed, imposing posture and offered a broad, knowing grin. "I’m just happy to see the Duke looking so much better tonight, too. You look like a man who finally got a decent rest, Your Grace."

Zarius raised an eyebrow, a faint, dangerous twitch touching the corner of his lips. "Is that so, Lord Derrick?"

Elios let out a muffled snort from behind them, quickly turning it into a fake cough, while Flio stared intently at the sky as if inspecting the stars. Cherion’s face flushed a subtle, deep red, though he maintained his composed smile.

"Ah, our carriage is here," Marquess Avery interjected smoothly, saving his son from Zarius’s glare. "We shall take our leave. Safe travels back to your estate, Your Grace, Lord Cherion."

As the Avery family excused themselves and boarded their carriage, a smooth, melodious voice drifted across the stone pavement from the upper terrace steps.

"Now why are you all in such a hurry?"

Iryna glided down the steps, her dark silk skirts brushing against the stone. Prince Gillian walked half a pace behind her, looking thoroughly exhausted by his sister’s relentless energy.

"Why don’t you just stay another night?" Iryna asked, stopping in front of the Northern group with her hands lightly clasped over her waist. "The palace quarters are perfectly comfortable, and the gardens are lovely at dawn."

"They will be coming back here tomorrow, Iryna," Gillian pointed out with a heavy sigh, rubbing his temple. "Staying at their own residence makes no difference."

"That is precisely my point, brother!" Iryna countered playfully, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "If they have to come all the way back tomorrow, why waste time riding through the cold streets tonight?"

Zarius stepped forward slightly, his broad frame blocking the draft for Cherion as he looked down at the Solaric princess. His voice was quiet, almost gentle, but it left zero room for argument.

"We appreciate the offer, Your Highness," Zarius said smoothly. "But my men and I have simply missed our own home. We would much rather sleep in our own beds tonight."

"Ah," Iryna purred, her dark eyes sparkling with a dangerous, amused glint. "A man who loves his home. How admirable."

At that moment, the heavy, dark-timbered carriages bearing the Valtrane crest pulled up to the mounting block, the horses snorting loudly in the chill night air.

"Our transport is here," Zarius declared, offering a crisp, formal bow to the royal siblings. "Prince Gillian. Princess Iryna."

Cherion, Elios, and Flio offered their bows as well, stepping toward the carriage doors that the footmen had held open.

"Safe travels for the night, Duke," Gillian said politely, offering a respectful nod in return. "We shall see you tomorrow."

"Until tomorrow," Iryna added softly, her voice dropping into a murmur that made the hairs on the back of Marielle’s neck stand straight up.

Marielle, who had been standing near the back of the group in complete silence the entire time, hastily moved to climb up the wooden steps into the second carriage. Just as her foot touched the runner, she instinctively glanced back over her shoulder.

Iryna was watching her directly.

Meeting Marielle’s wide, panicked eyes, Iryna slowly tilted her head, and dropped a deliberate, playful, and utterly shameless wink.

Marielle’s breath hitched in her throat. Her face exploded into a violent, burning crimson. Without a single word, she practically dove headfirst into the dark cabin of the carriage, nearly tripping over her own cloak as she scrambled inside and slammed the wooden door shut behind her.

Flio blinked, staring at the closed carriage door in utter bewilderment. "What in the world is wrong with Lady Marielle tonight?"

"Who knows," Elios muttered, climbing up into the driver’s seat beside the coachman with a lazy stretch. "Probably just hates capital air. Let’s move out."

Zarius helped Cherion up into the lead carriage, stepping in right behind him before the footman clicked the door closed. As the heavy wheels began to churn over the pavement, carrying House Valtrane away from the illuminated palace and into the dark streets of the capital, Cherion looked out the small curtained window.

Iryna was still standing under the torchlight, a small, triumphant smile lingering on her lips as she watched their carriages vanish into the night.

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