I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)-Chapter 25: A Heavy Lid

In the age before everything, when the sky was yet a single shade of gold, the world was silent and hollow. It is said that the Primordial Star, the first source of all life, realized that the world could not survive its own emptiness. To grant the earth a heartbeat, the Star shattered itself into three unequal fragments, which fell to the world as the Great Bleed.

Cherion’s eyes felt like they had been rubbed with sandpaper and then dipped in vinegar. The spidery, archaic script was starting to dance across the yellowed parchment, the letters twisting into little black insects that refused to sit still. He’d already pushed through two massive, back-breaking volumes on magic and basic mana theory. This third book? This one was a beast. It was dense, poetic, and incredibly depressing.

He blinked a few times.

Just... one more page, he lied to himself.

Then came the yawn. It was a massive, jaw-cracking thing that made his eyes water and his ears pop. His head did a slow, gravitational tilt toward the table. The wood looked so smooth. So cool. It would probably feel like a silk pillow against his burning forehead.

Thwack!

Cherion’s eyes flew open as he aggressively slapped his own cheeks. The sting was sharp and effective, leaving bright red patches on his pale skin.

"Focus, Cherion," he hissed under his breath, his voice a dry rasp in the silence of the library. "You’re a doctor, not a toodler. Get it together."

He glanced sideways, his neck stiff. Across the table, Zarius was a portrait of infuriating competence. The Duke had already plowed through a small mountain of books. He sat there with the stamina of a literal monster, his red eyes moving across the pages with terrifying speed. He didn’t yawn. He didn’t fidget. He just... absorbed everything.

Must be nice, Cherion thought bitterly.

In his own defense, Cherion wasn’t just reading. He was taking some notes, too. He had to stop every few sentences to dip his quill into the inkwell, a messy, annoying process that made him yearn for the 21st century with an ache that was almost physical. God, what he wouldn’t give for a highlighter right now. A neon yellow, chisel-tipped highlighter.

He could see it in his mind, he’d just swipe it over the important bits about "Mana Anchoring," and he’d be done in half the time. Instead, he was stuck scratching out notes like a medieval monk, his fingers stained with ink and his wrist cramping in a way that felt permanent.

He turned his attention back to the section on "Mana Anchoring." It was the key to his survival, the explanation of how he could heal Zarius without his unstable power rebounding and destroying him from the inside. He read three words.

...the tethered soul...

The world went soft. The smell of old paper and cedarwood began to fade, replaced by something much more pleasant. Tacos. Spicy, carnitas tacos with extra lime and that green salsa that made your nose run. He could almost taste the cilantro. He was reaching for a plate, his fingers inches away from a warm tortilla...

SLAM!

The sound was like a cannon shot in the hollow library. Cherion’s body reacted before his brain did. He jerked upright so violently that his chair tipped back on two legs. He flailed, grabbing the edge of the table to keep from face-planting onto the stone floor.

"What? What happened? Is it an attack?" Cherion gasped, his heart thundering against his ribs like a trapped bird.

Zarius was standing, his book snapped shut with a finality that brooked no argument. He loomed over the table.

"That’s enough," Zarius said. His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the lingering fog of Cherion’s taco-dream like a blade.

"What enough?"

"Enough reading."

Cherion rubbed his eyes, trying to look dignified while his hair was likely sticking up at a dozen different angles. "What? No, I’m fine. I was just... I was deep in thought. Just analyzing the linguistic nuances here."

"You were snoring," Zarius countered. His voice was flat, but there was a flicker of something... amusement? Annoyance? in the depths of his crimson eyes. "And drooling. I believe you were about to make a permanent mark on a three-hundred-year-old manuscript."

"I was not drooling!" Cherion protested, though he quickly swiped the corner of his mouth just in case. "I was just resting my eyes. It helps to concentrate more."

"You have yawned exactly fourteen times in the last twenty minutes," Zarius said, stepping around the table. He looked down at Cherion’s messy notes, the frantic, ink-stained scribbles of a desperate man. "Your ’focus’ has clearly left the building, little Omega. Or perhaps it never arrived to begin with."

Cherion opened his mouth to deliver a scathing, witty comeback. He really wanted to tell the Duke exactly where he could shove his "mental discipline." Instead, his body betrayed him.

Yawn number fifteen. It was even bigger than the last one, a wide, helpless stretch that left him blinking back tears of exhaustion.

"See?" Zarius said, his voice dropping an octave. It was a low rumble that felt oddly grounding. "Even your subconscious is calling you a liar."

Cherion slumped back into his chair, the fight leaking out of him. The adrenaline from the scare was gone, leaving him feeling heavy and hollow. The Duke was right. He couldn’t see straight anymore, and trying to decipher "Mana Vessels" while his brain was craving Mexican street food was a recipe for disaster.

"Fine," Cherion sighed, his shoulders dropping. "You win. I’m cooked. My brain is officially mush."

Zarius frowned. "Hear that. You’re even saying you’re cooking. You’re completely delirious now."

"No, that’s not..." Cherion began.

"We will continue this tomorrow," Zarius cut in, as if the words were a command rather than a suggestion.

Cherion nodded, already starting to gather his little notebook.

"Come on, I’ll walk you to your room."

His mind was already half-asleep, but a small part of him wondered why his voice had sounded almost... gentle.