I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)

"Your Highness?"

The voice was faint, muffled as if traveling through a thick wall of water. In his mind, Yerel was still standing under the damp glass roof of the conservatory, staring into a pair of blue eyes that contained absolutely nothing for him.

No lingering hurt. No hidden resentment. Not even a shred of lingering malice. Just a blank stare and zero reason to keep talking.

Respecting my fiancé. Respecting my mate.

Yerel almost wanted to laugh out loud at the memory. Cherion playing the part of a devoted, principled partner to someone else was the most absurd, deeply offensive piece of theater Yerel had ever witnessed. It was a joke. An absurd, desperate little lie Cherion was telling himself to pretend he was happy rotting away in the frozen North with a man who looked at the world like he owned it.

"Prince Yerel?"

Yerel didn’t move, his eyes fixed blankly on the desk before him, his fingers lightly tapping a rhythmic, restless beat against the wood. Cherion was hiding something. He had to be. A love that had burned that brightly for years didn’t just vanish into thin air because an arrangement was set in stone.

"Prince Yerel Ignivar."

Yerel blinked, the sudden use of his full name snapping him back to reality like a slap. He looked up, his focus finally sharpening on the tall, stern figure standing across from his desk.

Karson stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his jaw set in that familiar line.

"Well," Yerel said softly, a faint, wry smile touching his lips. "It’s certainly been a while since I heard you use my full name like that. Am I in trouble, Karson?"

"I called your three times, Your Highness," Karson replied, his voice entirely flat. "You didn’t hear a single word."

Yerel let out a quiet sigh, leaning back against the plush velvet cushion of his armchair and lacing his fingers together over his lap. "Forgive me. I was simply caught up in my thoughts."

Karson didn’t move a muscle, his sharp eyes evaluating the prince with quiet scrutiny. "You look distracted. Has something gone wrong?"

"No," Yerel murmured, letting his gaze drift toward the high arched window overlooking the lower courtyards. "Just... a lot has happened today. Too many moving pieces."

"Is that all?" Karson asked, his tone laced with a faint edge of doubt.

Yerel chuckled, a dry, airy sound that carried zero genuine warmth, just the hollow rasp of someone going through the motions of amusement. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "I ran into Cherion earlier. In the glass garden."

Karson’s eyebrows twitched upward by a fraction of a millimeter, but his posture remained rigid. "Did you?"

"I did," Yerel said, a strange, restless energy flickering in his eyes. "Though, unfortunately, we weren’t able to have much of a proper conversation. He had his little guard dogs glued to his side. Elios and Flio were practically standing on his side the entire time."

He paused, leaning back just enough to keep Karson squarely in his line of sight. It was a subtle move, but a sharp one, Yerel was waiting. He let those names hang in the quiet space between them, his eyes tracking every tiny detail of Karson’s face for a twitch, a tight jaw, or even the smallest flicker of hesitation.

Karson didn’t give him a single thing. He stayed completely still, his breathing steady, holding Yerel’s gaze with the blank calm of someone who hadn’t heard anything out of the ordinary at all.

"That is probably for the best," Karson answered. "It isn’t wise for you and Lord Cherion to be seen wandering alone. You share a public history, Your Highness. If anyone finds the two of you isolated together, rumors will begin to circulate before sunset."

Yerel scoffed softly, shaking his head with a look of genuine disbelief. "Why must everyone be so suffocatingly stiff? It was a harmless interaction. Can two civilized people who used to be betrothed not share a quiet stroll through a garden without it being treated like a treasonous affair?"

"Because you are the Crown Prince, and he is engaged to Duke Valtrane," Karson said flatly, refusing to indulge Yerel’s dismissive logic. "The court does not operate on ’harmless interactions.’ It operates on appearances."

Yerel waved a dismissive hand through the air, clearly bored of the lecture. "Yes, yes. I am well aware of how they think."

Karson watched him for a long moment, letting the silence stretch between them until the prince finally raised an eyebrow in question.

"Your Highness," Karson began slowly, shifting his weight. "Are you truly not going to accompany Lord Philia today?"

Yerel’s eyes flicked over to him, a faint, lingering pause settling in the air. Ah, right. That.

Yerel’s face went completely still, that familiar, effortless wall dropping back into place. Just like that, the brief flicker of whatever he’d been feeling was gone, replaced by the same smooth, harmless smile he put on for the rest of the world. "I have work to finish, Karson. I simply don’t have the time for it."

He paused, glancing at a stack of organized reports near the edge of his desk. "Besides, Philia understands how demanding my duties are. He doesn’t mind. Did you ensure everything was prepared for his trip?"

"I did," Karson replied. "The clothes, the gold, and the specific medicinal crates Lord Philia requested have all been double-checked and secured."

"Good," Yerel said, nodding once in satisfaction. "Philia deserves to have everything arranged flawlessly. See to it that the escort guards are given strict orders to keep the carriage steady."

Yerel stood up from his chair, smoothing down the front of his dark, immaculate tunic. He walked casually toward the large glass window.

"Well," Yerel murmured, slipping his hands into his pockets as he headed toward the heavy study doors. "Since he is about to set off, I suppose the least I can do is walk down and send him off properly."

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