I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)

"To the south? Are you certain, Your Grace?"

Flio paused, a thick stack of logs and reports cradled under his arm. He looked up at Zarius, his eyebrows twitching upward in mild surprise. They had been discussing the usual matters of household supplies and travel arrangements when, without much warning, Zarius said, "We’re going south."

Zarius stood near the heavy wooden frame of the window, his arms folded loosely behind his back as he looked down at the pale courtyard below.

"Yes," Zarius replied. "The anniversary of his family’s deaths is approaching. Cherion goes south every year to pay his respects."

This shouldn’t have been particularly surprising to either of them. Flio had already included it in what he’d managed to learn about Cherion when he first looked into his background. But with everything that had happened since, though, the detail had somehow been forgotten.

Flio nodded slowly, adjusting his grip on the reports as he made a mental note. "I see. In that case, should I arrange for us to return to the north first, or will we be heading straight down south from here?"

"We go straight south," Zarius answered without hesitation. He turned his head slightly, his sharp profile caught in the pale morning light. "I already spoke with Cherion about it last night. It’s better that way. Taking the northern route first would only drag out the trip for no good reason."

"Understood, Your Grace," Flio replied smoothly, reaching into his inner coat pocket to pull out a small leather-bound diary and a charcoal pencil. "I’ll handle the carriage arrangements, the guard rotations, and the southern outpost communications right away."

He had barely taken two steps toward the door when Zarius’s voice stopped him.

"Flio."

The aide stopped instantly and turned around, his usual attentive, disciplined posture already in place. "Yes, Your Highness?"

Zarius stayed by the window for a long moment, staring out into the air. When Zarius finally turned around, the expression on his face made Flio’s fingers tighten slightly against his side. There was a strange, raw tiredness in the Duke’s red eyes, a quiet hesitation that rarely ever made an appearance on a man who spent his life surrounded by political knives.

"Do you..." Zarius began, then hesitated. He took a slow breath, his face growing tense. "...do you know anything about soul swapping?"

Flio blinked, his usual composure faltering for perhaps the first time in years.

"I... beg your pardon?" Flio asked, his brow furrowing as he looked at his master.

Zarius kept his gaze fixed dead-on Flio’s face. His expression remained totally flat, devoid of any obvious emotion, but his eyes were unnaturally sharp, watching for the slightest shift in his aide’s reaction.

"Soul swapping," Zarius repeated, his tone dry and direct. "Or a soul taking over someone else’s physical body. Have you ever come across mentions of such things in the ancient texts or the records?"

Flio stared at him in complete silence. For three long seconds, he looked as though he was trying to figure out whether the duke was testing his historical knowledge, delivering an extraordinarily dry joke, or suffering from a severe, delusion-inducing lack of sleep.

"I... can;t say that I have, Your Highness," Flio answered carefully, selecting each word as if he were walking across thin ice. "There are old folk stories from the southern border tribes regarding spirits possessing human vessels, but those are mostly bedtime fables meant to keep children away from ancient burial grounds. Historically, or legally speaking, there is no recorded phenomenon of a soul... switching places."

Flio paused, searching Zarius’s face for a clue. "May I ask where this inquiry is coming from, Sire?"

Zarius held his gaze for a moment longer before letting out a soft, low breath through his nose. The strange, intense light in his eyes slowly dimmed back into his usual guarded calm.

"No," Zarius said quietly, dismissing the thought with a small wave of his hand. "It’s nothing. Forget I asked."

Flio looked as if he wanted to press further, his sharp instincts warning him that something massive was shifting under the surface, but he knew better than to push when Zarius closed a door. He bowed low, his gloved hands resting at his sides.

"As you wish, Your Grace. I shall go handle the travel preparations."

"Go on."

The door closed behind Flio, and Zarius was left alone with his thoughts.

He walked over to the desk, leaning his palms flat against the surface as he stared down at a blank piece of parchment.

Despite hearing Cherion lay everything out yesterday, despite sitting right there, listening to him explain with that calm, blunt honesty of his that he came from a completely different world, that this entire realm was nothing more than a written story until the gods dumped him into it, there was still a tiny, stubborn question lingering in the dark corners of Zarius’s mind.

It wasn’t that he doubted Cherion’s words. Cherion had no reason to lie, and the sheer absurdity of the claim was far too bizarre for anyone to fabricate on the spot. But Zarius’s brain, the logical, practical, ruthlessly realistic brain that had learned to survive court politics, kept trying to bend the impossible reality into something he could physically wrap his hands around.

Was it a soul swap? A possession? A miracle? Or something far more terrifying?

Zarius closed his eyes, his chest rising and falling in a slow, deep exhale.

In the end, it didn’t matter. The mechanism changed nothing. Whether Cherion was a soul occupying an empty body or a man dropped into this world by divine carelessness, he was here now.

He was sitting at Zarius’s table, drinking his tea, and looking at Zarius with eyes that saw the man inside, not just the title or the sword.

Something tightened in Zarius’s chest at the thought.

He didn’t care about the Gods’ habits. He didn’t give a damn about whatever rules governed that strange, distant world Cherion had left behind. All Zarius knew was that now that he had Cherion in his arms, he would tear this entire empire apart before he let whatever force brought Cherion here take him away. He needed to find a way, any way, any hidden magic, any ancient records buried in the royal archives, to ensure Cherion stayed at his side permanently.

If a God came for Cherion, Zarius would have to find out whether even a god could be made to let go.

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