I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)-Chapter 31: A Slight Tremor

"HATCHI!"

The sound was small, bordering on pathetic, really, but in the silence of the Duke’s private study, it cracked through the air like a dropped vase.

Cherion froze, blinking rapidly as his nose twitched. He barely had time to recover before a violent shudder raked down his spine, forcing his shoulders up toward his ears. It wasn’t the cold, but something deeper. A sudden, phantom chill that felt like icy fingers ghosting over his skin. He rubbed his upper arms vigorously, frowning at the goosebumps rising beneath his sleeves..

"Are you okay?"

Cherion looked up as Zarius’s quill was paused over a stack of parchment that looked thick enough to act as a shield in battle.

"I’m fine," Cherion said quickly. "Just... dust."

Cherion narrowed his eyes, looking around the room suspiciously. People used to say that if you sneezed once, someone was talking about you. If you shivered right after, they were speaking ill. Who is it now? he wondered, a bitter taste rising in his throat. The soldiers from the training ground? That can’t be. Oh, right. Maybe it was Yerel or Philia, back in the capital.

He shook his head to clear the thoughts. It didn’t matter.

Cherion was in Zarius’s study. When the man told him to follow, he knew better than to refuse. Just outside the heavy doors, he knew Soren was standing guard. The aide had been watching Cherion like a hawk watches a rat all morning.

"You put on quite the show earlier," Zarius said suddenly, not looking up. The scratching of his quill didn’t stop.

Cherion blinked. "Yes?" 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

"The training grounds," Zarius clarified. He finally set the quill down, leaning back in his chair. "Your power. It certainly is... potent. A fine spectacle."

There was a pause. The fire popped, sending a spark onto the fireplace.

"But," Zarius continued, his red eyes narrowing slightly, "is a spectacle enough to unpick a curse woven into the marrow of my bones? A little light show is one thing, little Omega. Purging is another."

Heat flared through Cherion, and his fists itched to do something... anything.

"Please be patient, Your Grace," Cherion replied. "It hasn’t been a week. Gods, it hasn’t even been three full days since I stepped off the carriage."

He took a deep breath, softening his tone. "And little progress is better than nothing at all. Unless you think screaming at me actually speeds things up?"

It was a bold retort. Maybe too bold.

Zarius stared at him. For a second, Cherion thought he might be thrown out, or fed to the wolves. But then, the corner of the Duke’s mouth twitched. Not a smile, but an acknowledgment of the hit.

He went quiet again, and Cherion took the opportunity to actually look at his patient.

Yesterday, Zarius looked like a walking corpse. He looked pale and in pain, and kept coughing nonstop. Today? There was a difference. It was subtle, but it was there.

He looks better, Cherion thought, puzzled.

What was it? Was it the tea? The environment? Or... was it just presence?

Before Cherion could follow that thread, Zarius moved.

He squeezed his eyes shut and brought his hand up to his forehead, his fingers digging into his temple as if trying to physically crush something inside his skull. A low, pained sound escaped his throat, a growl of frustration more than weakness.

"Your Grace?" Cherion’s annoyance evaporated instantly. He was moving before he even decided to. "Are you having a headache?"

"The persistent one," Zarius gritted out, keeping his eyes squeezed shut. "Like a hammer behind the eyes. It’s back."

"I was about to celebrate... but nope. False alarm," Cherion muttered, half to himself.

He rounded the massive desk and reached the back of the heavy chair. Zarius was tense, his shoulders hiked up near his ears, radiating a heat that felt feverish.

"Let go," Cherion instructed softly. "Hand down."

Zarius hesitated, then exhaled sharply and dropped his hand to the armrest. He didn’t protest. He looked... defeated.

"Lean back, please," Cherion murmured.

Zarius let his head fall back against the high headrest of the chair. He was vulnerable like this, his throat exposed, his face angled toward the ceiling. Cherion stood directly behind him. He reached out, his palms hovering for a second before gently settling his fingers onto the Duke’s temples.

He began to work his fingers like he’d seen in one of those massage tutorials on TooTube at 2 a.m. He massaged in short, firm strokes, then traced long, lazy lines down the temples and jaw, experimenting with gentle pinches and light taps. He felt the muscles under his fingers knot and then, slowly, reluctantly, begin to loosen.

Feeling any better?" Cherion asked softly, shifting his weight to press a little firmer on a pressure point near the hairline.

Zarius didn’t answer immediately. His breathing had evened out. "It is... quieter," he finally murmured.

Cherion smiled a little, feeling a swell of professional pride. "See? All those late-night tutorials actually work..."

Suddenly, Zarius moved.

His hand shot up and wrapped around the back of Cherion’s neck.

Cherion gasped, his heart leaping into his throat. "Your Gr...?"

He didn’t get to finish. Zarius didn’t squeeze, but the weight of his hand was undeniable. He pulled him closer.

Cherion lost his balance. He stumbled forward, his hips hitting the back of the sturdy chair, his upper body forced to hinge downward. Because Zarius’s head was still tilted back against the headrest, Cherion was brought down directly over him.

Face to face... and somehow upside-down

Cherion froze, his hands instinctively bracing on the shoulders of the chair to stop himself from collapsing completely. He was staring at Zarius’s face.

The Duke was looking at him, and it felt like actual flames were shooting from his gaze.

He better pull away.

But he didn’t move. He couldn’t. He was paralyzed, staring upside down into the eyes of a monster who looked like he had finally found something he wanted to devour.

And for a split second, Cherion wondered what it would feel like if he did.