I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)

"Aakkhh..."

A sharp, strained groan cut through the dim silence of the small bedroom, followed instantly by the heavy rustle of linen.

"I’m sorry, My Lord," Valen murmured quietly.

His voice was barely louder than a breath, flat and low, but his hand holding the silver forceps stayed completely steady. A thick drop of blood trickled down the side of Philia’s pale ribs, pooling over the clean cloth Valen had pressed against his waist.

Philia leaned his head back against the wooden bedpost, his jaw clenched so tight the bone stood out pale against his skin. His breath came in shallow, ragged hitches, his fingers digging into the edge of the mattress until his knuckles turned white.

"It’s fine," Philia forced out through gritted teeth, his chest rising and falling unevenly. "Just... clean it, okay?"

Valen didn’t answer right away. He dipped a small piece of clean cotton into a clay jar of bitter medicinal alcohol and pressed it directly over the raw, open mark carved into the left side of Philia’s chest. Philia’s whole body flinched violently, a low hiss escaping his lips, but Valen held him firmly by the shoulder with his other hand, keeping him pinned against the wood until the bleeding slowed to a dull smear.

"This is the second time, My Lord," Valen said softly, wrapping a fresh strip of linen around Philia’s torso and pulling it snug. He tied the knot with practiced, efficient pressure. "If you keep opening the same wound every night, it’s not going to heal properly."

Valen pulled back, sitting on his heels beside the low bed. His hands were stained dark with blood and medicinal salve, his dark eyes fixed dead-on the fresh white bandages covering Philia’s chest. There was no judgment on Valen’s face, there rarely was, but the tight line of his mouth betrayed the heavy, quiet frustration holding him together.

"We should take a day off tonight," Valen added, his voice dropping an octave as he looked up into Philia’s pale face. "Or two. You need time to let the skin close."

Philia closed his eyes, leaning his head back and letting out a long, shaky exhale. His body was trembling faintly from the lingering shock of the pain, his skin damp with a cold, light sweat.

"No," Philia whispered, opening his eyes and staring up at the low wooden rafters of the ceiling. "We don’t have time to rest, Valen. I’ve already been here two nights. At most, I have five or six days before the palace starts sending couriers to pull me back."

"Lord Phili..."

"Once we go back to the palace, there won’t be any quiet rooms like this," Philia interrupted quietly, turning his head to look at his attendant. "There will be guards outside my door every hour. I won’t be able to test this freely over there. I have to figure out how far this reaches while I still have space to breathe."

Valen stayed quiet for a long moment, staring down at his red-stained fingers. Every protective instinct in his body screamed at him to drag the medicine chest away, throw the small silver blades into the hearth, and force Philia to lie down and sleep for twelve hours straight. But he knew Philia’s stubbornness better than anyone. He knew that beneath the quiet, soft-spoken exterior was a desperate, terrified young man who would rather bleed in secret than go back to the palace completely defenseless.

"I understand," Valen said softly, though the words tasted bitter in his throat. It pained him to yield, but he simply took a clean cloth and began wiping the dark smears off Philia’s side. "I completely understand."

Valen moved quickly, his movements methodical and practiced. He gathered the stained cotton, wrapped the small silver tools in a thick strip of leather, and wiped the floor where two stray drops of blood had fallen.

Before Philia could even reach for his clean cotton shirt to cover the fresh bandages, a sudden, light knock sounded against the lower panel of the heavy bedroom door.

Knock, knock knock

Philia froze, his breath catching in his throat.

"Philia?" a small, muffled voice called out from the hallway. "Are you in there?"

It was Libby, one of the younger girls.

Valen moved instantly without making a sound. In one smooth motion, he slid the leather bundle of tools into the dark bottom drawer of the bedside table and kicked the drawer shut with his heel. Philia grabbed his loose white shirt off the wooden chair, throwing it over his head and pulling it down over his bandaged chest with a sharp, suppressed wince as the linen rubbed against the raw wound.

"Just a moment, Libby," Philia called out, his voice instantly smoothing out into its usual warm, gentle pitch, completely hiding the exhaustion underneath.

He quickly buttoned the high collar of his shirt up to his throat, tucking the hem into his trousers, while Valen stepped up to the heavy door and slid the iron bolt back with a quiet, dull clack.

Valen pulled the door open a few inches, looking down at the tiny seven-year-old girl standing in the dimly lit hallway, clutching a ragged cloth doll under her arm.

"Hey, Libby," Valen said, his voice dropping into that quiet, neutral tone he used around the children. "What are you doing?"

Libby peeked around Valen’s tall frame, her round eyes lighting up the moment she caught sight of Philia standing near the desk.

"The older boys said we can play hide and seek!" Libby said excitedly, bouncing slightly on her bare feet. "Brother Philia and Brother Valen, come play with us! Please?"

Philia looked at the little girl, feeling the cold knot of tension in his chest ease just a fraction. He took a slow breath, forcing a small, genuine smile onto his face as he walked toward the door. "Hide and seek?"

"Please?" Libby pleaded, stepping across the threshold and reaching her small, smudge-covered hand straight up toward him. "Just one, no, two round!"

Philia reached out to take her hand, but stopped mid-air. He hesitated for a brief second, casting a quick, subconscious glance down at his own fingers, carefully checking his skin and nails under the lamp light to ensure there was no trace of dark blood or medicinal oil left on his hands.

Once he was sure his skin was completely clean, he reached down and gently wrapped his fingers around Libby’s small hand.

"Alright," Philia said softly, letting her tug him out into the dark hallway. "Just two round. Come on"

As Libby pulled him toward the staircase, Philia paused at the end of the hall, turning his head back over his shoulder. He shared a quiet, heavy look with Valen, who was still standing in the doorway of the dark room.

Philia gave a subtle nod to his attendant.

Valen nodded back. He stepped out into the corridor, pulled the heavy bedroom door shut, and turned the brass key in the lock, securing the room and the blood-stained rags inside before quietly following them down the stairs.

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