I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)-Chapter 69: A Hand Rejected

The silence Reiner left was... loud. Like, "turn it down, buddy" loud. Cherion sat on the edge of the mattress, suddenly noticing that the fancy borrowed sheets had a secret mission: torture him.

He stayed by your side the whole time. Reiner’s voice, bubbly and far too sincere, kept ping-ponging around his brain like some kind of unskippable TooTube ad.

It was a ridiculous image. The Duke of Valtrane hunched over a bedside like a common nursemaid? Cherion tried to wrap his head around it and failed. Guilt, probably. Or, more likely, a very cold, very calculated fear. After all, if Cherion’s heart decided to stop beating, Zarius’s own clock would start ticking toward a very messy end.

It made perfect sense. If you own a rare, fragile vase that happens to be the only thing holding back a curse, you’re going to watch over it. You aren’t going to let it out of your sight.

"Rational... rational... think rational," Cherion muttered to the air. "It’s just a business."

Yeah, right. Meanwhile, his brain was running a full-on Betlix series of "What Ifs."

He glanced at the heavy door. Oh, fantastic. Here he was, wasting brainpower on "what is" while real life was out there, waiting, and judging him. Work exists, Cherion. Remember that.

"Fine," he said, rolling off the bed like a tired cat. Legs were basically cooked noodles, but the warmth was creeping in, tingling in all the right places. His mana was restless, a golden twitch beneath his skin that was practically begging for a destination. "If he’s too proud to ask, I’ll just deliver the goods."

He tiptoed along the rugs, because apparently he wasn’t trying to announce himself like a marching band. The Duke’s wing felt colder and he rounded the last corner to face the massive, iron-studded doors of Zarius’s bedroom.

He didn’t even get to reach for the handle.

Something dark lurched out of the doorway like a surprise DLC boss. Cherion yelped, his heart doing a trampoline trick in his chest, and he stumbled back like an idiot.

"Good gods, Your Grace! Don’t just stand there like a ghost! You nearly gave me a heart attack," Cherion breathed, pressing a hand to his chest.

Zarius didn’t move an inch. He stood perfectly upright, his silhouette sharp and imposing in the gloom. His face looked like a stone sculpture that had somehow been photoshopped to look annoyingly well-rested. "I am in my own home. I can stand wherever I please."

He almost rolled his eyes, the panic melting into his signature mix of sass and exhaustion. "Yes, yes, King of the Castle and all that. Anyway, let’s begin, Your Grace. We’re days behind, and I can feel the mana practically jumping out of my skin."

He made a move to brush past the Duke, eyes already scanning the room for the familiar bed they usually crashed on, but nope. Then, bam, a massive bare hand shot out, blocking the doorway, and stopped him dead in his tracks.

He stared at the hand, then up at Zarius’s face. Confusion clouded his eyes. "What... what is this?"

"There is no need for that tonight," Zarius said, voice flat and echoing like he was narrating a very boring documentary. "I feel perfectly fine. You, however, look like you’re about to tip over. Go back to your room and sleep."

Cherion actually chuckled, a short, disbelieving sound. "Oh, stop it. You worry too much. I’m fine, really. See?"

Driven by a sudden, soft impulse to prove his vitality, Cherion reached out. He wanted to catch Zarius’s arm, to show him that his touch was steady and his power was back. But the moment his fingers moved toward the Duke’s hand, Zarius didn’t just move. He recoiled. Zarius jumped back like Cherion was covered in some invisible plague. Not exactly the confidence boost he was hoping for.

"Don’t," Zarius hissed.

Cherion froze, his hand hanging in the empty, cold air. The flinch hit like a punch to his ego. "Your Grace?"

"I said I don’t need it," Zarius snapped, eyes flashing like a warning sign. He took a step back, further into the shadows of his room, his posture rigid. "I told you, I’m fine. And you just woke up. Try anything, and you’ll collapse again. Get out of my way and rest. I don’t have time to babysit someone fragile for the second time."

"Fragile? Really? I’m literally standing right here! I came here to help you! To stop that... that curse from eating you alive!"

"You’re not in any shape for this, Cherion," Zarius said, his voice dropping into a cold, clinical register that was somehow worse than his shouting. "I have suffered enough already. We cannot permit another. Retire to your quarters at once."

"But I’m better! I’m okay now! I’m..." 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

Before Cherion could finish the sentence, Zarius stepped back and grabbed the edge of the door.

SLAM.

The noise echoed through the wing like a cannon blast. Cherion stood there, frozen, staring at the dark wood.

"Did he... did he just close the door on me?" Cherion whispered to the silence.

He couldn’t believe it. He truly couldn’t. This was the man who had supposedly sat by his bed for three days? This was the man who was dying of a curse that only Cherion could soothe? He raised a fist and hammered on the door.

"Your Grace! Open this door right now!"

He knocked again, the iron studs bruising his knuckles. "This is ridiculous! You’re going to be in agony by tomorrow morning! Don’t you want to get better? Don’t you want to get rid of this curse?"

Silence. Not even the sound of a footstep from the other side. It was as if Zarius had ceased to exist the moment the latch clicked.

Cherion’s hand dropped to his side, his fingers trembling. The golden warmth in his palms felt heavy now. He stood in the hallway for what felt like hours, his mind racing through a thousand different ’whys.’