I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)

The air near the carriage courtyard was thick with the scent of damp gravel and polished leather. Servants moved quietly around the grand royal carriage, lifting heavy, silver-bound wooden trunks and loading them onto the racks.

Standing a few paces back from the commotion, Philia kept his spine perfectly straight, his pale blue velvet coat immaculate against the grey stone backdrop of the palace wing. Beside him, Valen was carefully inspecting a small, velvet-lined wooden chest that two footmen were holding with delicate hands.

"Be exceptionally gentle with those," Valen instructed, his voice low but sharp enough to command immediate obedience. "The glass vials inside contain delicate medicinal tonic. If so much as one bottle cracks on the cobblestones, you will answer to me directly."

The footmen offered swift, nervous nods before lifting the chest into the interior storage compartment with exaggerated care.

Valen brushed off his hands and took a step back to stand beside Philia. He snuck a quick glance up at the window of the Crown Prince’s study before looking back over at his master.

"My lord," Valen said softly, leaning in slightly so his voice wouldn’t carry toward the guards. "Is Prince Yerel really not coming with us?"

Philia didn’t look up at the window. He kept his gaze locked on the royal crest painted onto the carriage door, his face completely blank. Then, he shook his head with a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

"No, Valen. He is far too busy today," Philia replied. "You know how things are right now. He can’t just abandon his duties to ride out with me. I’m just glad we can still go today."

Valen hummed softly, though his brow remained slightly furrowed. He had been with Philia long enough to notice the tiny, almost invisible tightness around the corners of his master’s eyes, the quiet, bitter disappointment Philia had carefully smoothed over when Yerel had gently declined his invitation.

Philia tried to rationalize it in his mind, as he always did. Yerel was the Crown Prince of the realm, the future ruler of millions. It was foolish and selfish to expect him to drop high-level statecraft just to accompany his fiancé on a routine, short trip. It was completely logical for Yerel to stay behind.

And yet, a cold, persistent ache sat quietly at the bottom of Philia’s throat.

"Well," Valen said, offering a warm, encouraging smile to break the silence. "You won’t be entirely without company, My Lord. I have packed your favorite books and the lavender tea blends. I will be right there beside you the whole way, so you won’t feel lonely on the road."

Philia’s rigid expression softened just a fraction. He turned to glance at his loyal attendant, his eyes warming with genuine gratitude. "Thank you, Valen. I know I can always rely on..."

"I am certainly glad to hear that, Sir Valen," a smooth voice spoke up behind them. "It gives me great peace of mind to know my fiancé is in such capable hands."

Valen immediately stiffened, dropping his head into a deep, respectful bow. "Your Highness!"

Philia turned around quickly, his eyes widening in brief, genuine surprise before his face instantly lit up with a bright, radiant smile.

Yerel was walking down the broad stone steps, looking as effortlessly handsome as ever in his tailored tunic. His bright eyes fixed entirely on Philia as he closed the distance between them.

"Your Highness," Philia breathed, taking a small step forward as his fiancé reached him. "What are you doing down here? I thought you were submerged in state papers."

"I was," Yerel said smoothly, reaching out to gently take Philia’s hand. He raised the back of Philia’s fingers to his lips, pressing a soft, warm kiss against his knuckles with practiced charm. "But I realized it would be terribly unchivalrous of me to let my fiancé leave the palace without properly saying goodbye."

Philia let out a quiet, breathless laugh, feeling a sudden, fluttery warmth rise in his chest, washing away the cold doubt that had been lingering there all afternoon. "Oh, Your Highness... How many times must I tell you that it’s completely fine? I know how heavy your workload is today."

"That doesn’t mean I won’t miss you," Yerel murmured, his voice dropping into a tender, intimate register as his thumb lightly stroked the back of Philia’s hand. He looked down into Philia’s eyes with an expression of absolute, devoted affection. "The palace is going to feel dreadfully dull without your presence to brighten these heavy halls."

A soft flush crept onto Philia’s cheeks, his radiant smile deepening. "Don’t be dramatic, Your Highness. I’m only going to be gone for a short while. It isn’t as though I am disappearing for ten years."

Yerel let out a low, musical chuckle, nodding in agreement. "Ten years would be entirely unbearable." He turned his gaze slightly, looking past Philia to survey the arranged baggage and the neat line of mounted royal guards waiting behind the carriage. "Is everything truly in order? Nothing missing from the manifest?"

"Everything is perfectly prepared," Philia assured him smoothly. "The medicinal crates, the gifts, the gold allowance, Sir Karson oversaw it all personally. They will be thoroughly pleased with the Crown’s generosity."

"Good," Yerel said, offering a approving nod. "Send my warmest regards to them when you arrive. Tell them I regret not being able to visit in person this time."

"I will," Philia replied softly.

Yerel stepped forward, personally grasping the heavy brass handle of the ornate carriage door and pulling it open. He extended his hand, offering his arm to help Philia step up onto the iron footboard. Philia rested his hand lightly on Yerel’s sleeve, lifting his blue velvet coat gracefully as he climbed into the plush, silk-lined interior.

Valen gathered his small travel bag, preparing to follow his master inside. Before he stepped onto the footboard, Yerel turned his head toward the attendant, his expression shifting into a calm, commanding look of authority.

"Please take good care of Lord , Valen," Yerel said softly, his tone cool and steady. "Ensure the carriage driver avoids the rougher mountain passes. I expect my fiancé to return to me without a single scratch or a moment of discomfort."

Valen bowed deeply, his voice firm. "You have my absolute word, Your Highness. I will guard Lord Philia with my life. You need not worry for a second."

"I know you will," Yerel hummed, stepping back to allow Valen to board.

The attendant slipped inside, shutting the door tightly behind him. Through the glass window of the carriage, Philia looked out, meeting Yerel’s eyes once more.

With a low crack of the driver’s leather whip, the four black carriage horses shifted into motion. The iron-rimmed wheels began to turn with a heavy, rhythmic crunch against the fine gravel of the courtyard, slowly pulling the heavy coach forward toward the arched stone gatehouses leading out of the inner palace grounds.

Philia leaned slightly toward the window, raising his hand to offer a quiet, elegant wave.

Outside, Yerel stood alone on the stone steps, his dark silhouette framed by the looming palace towers. He raised his hand, offering a smooth, effortless wave back, his faint smile remaining perfectly fixed in place as he watched the carriage depart.

Philia watched him through the glass until the coach rounded the sweeping outer wall, cutting off his line of sight completely. Only then did Philia slowly lower his hand into his lap, his bright, radiant smile gradually fading into a quiet line as the carriage rolled out into the city streets.

Just a little longer. Just a little longer and I’ll finally meet them.

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