I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)

Iryna adjusted his dress before turning the corner into the main gallery. Iryna walked confidently down the quiet hallway.

When she caught sight of Gillian leaning casually against a stone pillar near the grand stairwell, a soft smile touched her lips. He was gazing lazily out the stained-glass window, his arms crossed over his chest, looking every bit like a man who felt entirely out of place in such opulent surroundings.

"Good morning, Brother," she called out warmly.

Gillian turned his head, pushing himself off the pillar with a slow, heavy stretch of his back. "Morning, Sister."

"Did you sleep well?" she asked, falling into step beside him as they began walking together toward the central dining hall.

"Surprisingly, yes," Gillian replied, rolling his shoulders with a quiet sigh of relief. "I don’t think I even moved once the light went out. And I don’t need to ask how you slept, you look far too refreshed for someone stuck in the middle of an imperial political web."

Iryna let out a small, quiet laugh, her eyes bright and clear under the morning light. "Of course I slept well. It is much easier to rest when you no longer have to constantly worry about what your future in this unknown land will look like."

Gillian glanced sideways at her, a skeptical eyebrow rising high on his forehead. "You really have that much confidence that Lady Marielle will accept the betrothal, huh?"

"A woman’s hunch is never wrong," Iryna said smoothly, lifting her chin with a playful glint in her eyes. "Or... rarely wrong, at the very least."

"She’s a northern noble, Iryna," Gillian reminded her, keeping his voice low as they began descending the wide stone staircase toward the lower level. "They aren’t built like the soft court ladies in the capital. Even if she does accept your proposal, she isn’t going to just sign her name without putting down a few heavy conditions first. She’s going to test you. She’s going to see if you crumble under pressure."

"Then I will fulfill whatever conditions she sets," Iryna answered without a second of hesitation. Her step didn’t falter, and her voice carried an absolute, unwavering stillness. "I am not looking for a simple title or a comfortable arrangement to hide behind, Gillian. If she has demands, I am more than ready to meet every single one of them."

Gillian looked at her for a long moment, taking in the quiet, absolute resolve in her posture, before letting out a dry breath. "Well, at least nobody can ever accuse you of lacking determination."

When they reached the entrance of the grand dining hall, the massive double doors carved from heavy oak stood wide open, exposing a room built to seat dozens of high-ranking lords and visiting foreign dignitaries.

Today, however, the long mahogany table was nearly bare. A few servants moved silently around the perimeter, setting down heated silver platters and crystal pitchers, but the high, carved chairs at the head of the table remained entirely empty.

There was no sign of King Alderon. There was no sign of Yerel.

Iryna pulled out a tall carved chair near the middle of the long table, smoothing her heavy skirts with a fluid motion as she sat down. "They must be terribly busy today," she commented softly, watching an elderly butler step forward to pour warm herbal tea into her porcelain cup. "What a hard life it must be to be a royal."

Gillian snorted loudly, pulling out the chair directly across from her and reaching straight for a basket of warm, crusty bread without waiting for a servant to offer it. "Hard work? Try being an ordinary citizen carrying heavy grain sacks through the mud in the middle of a winter storm. They just sit in padded velvet rooms, drink expensive wine, and argue about taxes."

Iryna chuckled, shaking her head as she picked up her delicate silver spoon. "Careful, Gillian. If the palace walls hear you talking like that, they might throw you in the lower dungeons for a lack of proper imperial respect."

"Let them," Gillian muttered around a large bite of bread, though a faint, amused smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I just have to burn everything."

They ate quietly for a while, enjoying the rare, uninterrupted peace of the massive room. Without the heavy, suffocating presence of the King or the erratic, tense energy from Yerel lingering over the table, the meal felt almost ordinary, a brief, precious pause in the middle of an gathering storm.

Outside the tall stained-glass windows, the morning mist was slowly burning off, exposing the sprawling stone rooftops of the capital city below.

As Iryna set her porcelain teacup back down on its saucer with a soft, delicate clink, a thoughtful look settled over her sharp features. She tapped her chin lightly with her index finger, turning her head to look out toward the city.

"Do you think we should go visit the Valtrane estate today?" Iryna asked casually, as if proposing a simple stroll through the market.

Gillian stopped mid-chew, his fork hovering inches from his plate as he stared at her across the wide mahogany table. "I don’t think that’s a good idea."

"Why not?" she asked, tilting her head with innocent curiosity. "We are all staying in the same city, after all."

"Because if you just show up at their front gate unannounced after everything His Majesty pulled yesterday, they will freak out," Gillian said plainly, setting his fork down with a sharp click. "Lady Marielle will probably think it’s some kind of surprise political ambush, and Zarius will likely have his guards draw their swords before you even set a single foot off your carriage."

Iryna let out a soft, melodious sigh, though her eyes danced with subtle amusement. "I was just kidding, Gillian. I know I cannot push too hard right now, or I will only scare her further away."

Gillian leaned back against his chair, wiping his hands on a pristine linen napkin as he studied her face across the table. "You know... watching you right now, it’s a little strange."

Iryna blinked, leaning back slightly in her seat. "Strange how?"

"You seem to like Lady Marielle a bit too much already," Gillian said, leaning his forearms heavily on the polished table. "You haven’t even had a proper moment with her yet, I guess, and you’re already acting like you two are meant to be long-term partners. You’re already adjusting your plans around her."

Iryna paused, her fingers resting against the warm rim of her glass.

The light chatter of the distant servants faded into background noise as she looked down at the amber liquid in her cup, her own reflection shimmering faintly on the surface. Her chest tightened with a strange, unfamiliar warmth, not the cold, calculated ambition she had carried with her when she first crossed the border into this strange land, but something far more genuine and deeply rooted.

"Really?" Iryna asked, glancing down at her tea. "Well... you might be right, Brother."

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