I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)

Cherion’s muscles screamed under the strain as he threw his entire body weight against the heavy wooden bookshelf.

Behind him, across the quiet painting room, the brass handle of the main door completed its slow downward tilt. The heavy iron latch clicked open with a distinct, metallic sound that sent a jolt of pure adrenaline straight through Cherion’s veins.

Move, damn it, move!

With a low, groaning slide of stone against wood, the heavy bookshelf panel finally gave way just enough. A gap no wider than a foot opened into the pitch-black void behind it. Cherion didn’t hesitate for a single second. He sucked in his stomach, turned sideways, and forced himself through the narrow gap.

He reached back with both hands, catching the inner lip of the stone door, and pulled it shut with absolute, weightless precision just as the main gallery door swung open.

The heavy panel clicked back into its flush seam with a soft, barely audible thud.

Cherion collapsed against the damp, freezing stone wall in total darkness, his lungs heaving as he fought to keep his ragged breathing completely silent. He pressed his ear flat against the back of the secret panel, listening intently to the room beyond.

For two agonizing minutes, he heard nothing but the muffled, distant sounds of footsteps inside the room, followed by the faint rustle of heavy drapes being pulled back. He didn’t dare linger long enough to hear the King speak.

Cherion pulled the leather-bound observation journal out from his trousers, wrapping his fingers around it so tightly his knuckles turned white. He clutched the book firmly against his chest, and began his retreat.

He practically flew down the winding stone stairs, his boots taking the steps two at a time. His mind was an absolute mess, spinning wildly from the sheer absurdity of the last ten or fifteen minutes.

A locked painting room? The King painting Zarius’s mother?!

Okay. Let’s look at this from a perfectly reasonable perspective. The painting room was locked. Fine. That didn’t necessarily mean anything suspicious. Maybe there were other paintings in there that were extremely valuable. The King probably didn’t want some careless servant knocking one over, spilling something on it, or accidentally putting a broom through a masterpiece.

Or maybe he simply didn’t like people looking at his paintings.

That was possible too. Plenty of people were weird about their hobbies. Maybe the King was embarrassed about his work. Maybe he thought his paintings were terrible. Maybe he just didn’t want anyone wandering in and judging them.

Harvey nodded to himself.

See? Perfectly normal explanations.

And if the King happened to have a painting of Zarius’s mother in there...

Well, they might have simply been very good friends. Zarius’s mother could have commissioned the King to paint her before she died. Or... or maybe the King had simply admired the former Duchess’s beauty and used her as his muse. That wasn’t strange either. Artists needed inspiration, didn’t they?

Artists found inspiration in all sorts of things. Like lov...

No. He was not going there.

Every step he took seemed to raise ten more questions he had zero answers for. He hurried down the long corridor, passing flickering torches that lit up the damp stone walls.

He just wanted to get out of this underground maze and put as much distance between himself and that secret room as humanly possible.

After a good ten or fifteen minutes, the passage began to slope upward, leading him back toward the Grand Temple and the other side of the secret network. Cherion hurried up the stone stairs, nearly running now, until he spotted the faint outline of the hidden door ahead.

He didn’t know how to operate the latch properly from the inside, so he simply braced his shoulder against the rough stone block and threw himself against it with all the momentum he had left.

The stone panel popped open with a sudden, loud crack.

Cherion tumbled blindly out of the shadowy alcove, stumbling into the bright, sunlit warmth of the Grand Temple. He scrambled to catch his balance, his arms flailing, his boots slipping across the floor.

He didn’t hit the ground.

Instead, he slammed into a broad chest that might as well have been a wall. A very expensive wall.

Strong, familiar arms caught him instantly, wrapping securely around his waist and shoulders to stabilize him before he could fall. The sharp, overwhelming scent of pine, snow, and dark northern woods surrounded him, completely washing away the stale dust from the tunnel.

Cherion blinked rapidly, his chest heaving as he looked up.

Zarius was staring down at him, his eyes wide with a rare, visible flash of sheer relief that instantly hardened into an intense, protective focus. His jaw was set tight, and his large hands held Cherion’s frame with a grip so firm it was almost bruising.

"Cherion?" Zarius’s low voice rumbled straight through his chest. "Where were you?"

A few paces behind him, Marielle gave a startled gasp, pressing a hand to her chest. "Merciful heavens, Cherion! You have just emerged from a solid wall!"

Cherion stood there in Zarius’s arms for a long, breathless moment. His hair was messy, his coat was completely unbuttoned, his trousers were covered in a thin layer of grey stone dust, and he was clutching a worn leather notebook against his ribs like it was a holy relic.

Marielle took a step closer, squinting at him up and down. "Where on earth did you go? What is that place behind the wall? Did you fall down a maintenance chute or something?"

"I... it was an accident," Cherion wheezed, waving a hand vaguely in the air as he tried to catch his breath. "I was leaning against the wall waiting for the High Priest, and the stone just gave way. I slid down this ridiculously steep chute, ended up in some underground hall, walked down a passage, and... yeah."

Zarius’s eyes narrowed, his gaze sweeping over the thick grey dust coating Cherion’s elbows and knees. He reached out, gently brushing a smudge of dark dirt off Cherion’s cheekbone with the pad of his thumb.

"Are you hurt?" Zarius asked, his tone dropping into a low, quiet command that ignored everyone else in the hallway. "Did someone push you?"

"No, no one pushed me, I’m fine," Cherion said quickly, shaking his head. "Just a few bruised ribs and a lot of emotional damage. Look, it’s a long story. A really, really long story. Can we have a chit-chat about it later? Let’s just get out of here first."

Cherion wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve, letting out a heavy, dramatic sigh. "Honestly, after the morning I’ve had, I need a drink. Let’s go home and buy some Coke on the way."

Zarius stopped. Marielle stopped.

The brother and sister slowly turned their heads to look at each other, identical expressions of total, unadulterated confusion washing over their faces.

"Buy... some what?" Marielle asked, tilting her head like a puzzled hunting hound.

"Coke," Cherion repeated casually, completely forgetting for a split second what century and world he was currently inhabiting.

Zarius’s brows knitted together in deep concern. "What is a... coke? Is it a southern tonic? A medicine for dizziness?"

Cherion froze, his brain finally catching up to his mouth. Right. Transmigration. Medieval fantasy setting. No soft drinks.

The shock scrambled whatever thoughts he’d been trying to form.

"Uh..." Cherion cleared his throat awkwardly, his cheeks flushing a faint pink under the dust. "Right. Never mind. Fine. Water is fine too. Or tea. Just anything liquid that isn’t holy water."

Marielle let out a snort, shaking her head as a amused grin broke across her face. "You are absolute chaos today, Cherion."

Cherion looked up at Zarius, tightening his grip on the observation journal as his expression grew more serious. "Seriously, Zarius. Can we please go home now?"

Zarius didn’t ask another question. Whatever Cherion had just said about the secret tunnel could wait. So could the strange word he’d used, along with the dozen questions it had immediately raised in Zarius’s mind.

Right now, none of that mattered.

He could sort through the confusion later, when Cherion was somewhere safe and Zarius had the time to think about what had just happened without feeling like his head was about to split open.

He simply adjusted his hold, keeping one heavy, reassuring arm firmly wrapped around Cherion’s waist, steering him gently down the sunlit corridor toward the temple’s grand exit.

"Yes," Zarius murmured softly, his voice grounded and steady. "Let’s go home."

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