I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)-Chapter 146: The Worst Person to See at the Gates

Elios was wrong about one thing. Philia wasn’t a guest, he was a bad decision that had somehow traveled all the way north.

His brain was basically static at this point. The constant jostling finally stopped, replaced by actual ground, hard and real, in the Duchy’s courtyard. Zarius was there, a constant, heavy presence, guiding him down from the saddle with hands that felt far too warm against Cherion’s chilled skin. Honestly, his brain was currently a soup of half-formed thoughts and lingering adrenaline, he was essentially a standing vegetable.

But then, the atmosphere shattered. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

Philia launched himself across the courtyard like a heat-seeking missile with a vendetta. Before Cherion’s sluggish reflexes could even scream abort mission, he was suddenly hit by what felt like a luxury brand hurricane: silk, scent, and poor life choices.

"Lord Cherion! Oh, gods, Lord Cherion!"

Philia surged forward, his eyes brimming with a moisture that looked suspiciously like a high-budget special effect. It was a masterpiece of "shattered" relief. He buried his face in Cherion’s shoulder, sobbing with a theatrical intensity that actually made the nearby guards, hardened Northern men who ate ice for breakfast, look visibly moved. Eyes softening at the sight of such "pure" friendship.

Cherion, meanwhile, was pinned in a suffocating embrace, his nose pressed into Philia’s shoulder. Internally, he was screaming. What in the absolute hell is happening? Why is he here? And where is the guy who literally tried to shove me into the afterlife just the other day? While Philia wailed about how he’d been "utterly restless" and "sick with worry" calling him his "dearest soul-friend," Cherion remained as dry as a desert in a drought. He didn’t hug back. He didn’t pat Philia’s head. Instead, he stared blankly over the other man’s shoulder, mentally calculating the sheer cost of the laundry bill he’d like to invoice Philia for. This fur was borrowed, you snake. If you get snot on it, I’m suing.

"I thought something bad happened to you!" Philia choked out, pulling back just enough to frame Cherion’s face with trembling hands. "The cold, the monsters... I couldn’t sleep! Not a wink!"

"You don’t say," Cherion muttered, completely unamused. "Because you look remarkably well-rested for a man on the brink of a nervous breakdown. Not even a dark circle in sight. What’s your secret? Witchcraft?"

Before Philia could double down on his performance, the air temperature in the courtyard seemed to drop another ten degrees. A shadow fell over them, large, dark, and radiating a territorial energy that could have leveled a small village.

Zarius didn’t ask for permission. He stepped in smoothly and reclaimed Cherion with the energy of someone correcting a very obvious mistake.He didn’t just pull him away, he caught Cherion by the waist, drawing him back toward his side with a grip that left no room for negotiation. It was a "mine" gesture if Cherion had ever seen one, and frankly, he wasn’t complaining.

Philia blinked, his tear-streaked face smoothing over into a mask of delicate surprise. "Lord Cherion... I was so shocked when I heard you’d gone on a subjugation mission! To leave the safety of the castle for that?"

"Surely not as shocked as I am to see you here," Cherion countered. He leaned slightly into Zarius’s warmth, his eyes narrowing. "What are you doing in the North, Lord Philia? Did your carriage take a wrong turn while you were out shopping for more clothes? Because this seems like a very long way to go just for a change of scenery."

Philia gave a small, fluttery sigh like he was starring in his own emotional scene. "Oh, Lord Cherion, don’t be like that. His Majesty was simply distraught! He was so worried about you being all alone up here while the Duke was away fighting. He didn’t realize you’d actually joined the fray yourself! How could you not tell His Majesty of your plans?"

Cherion tilted his head, a sarcastic smile dancing on his lips. "Wow. The King is just so... caring. It truly warms my soul. It must have been such a burden for you to travel all this way. I mean, you clearly had no choice but to obey such a royal command. My sympathies."

"How can you say that?" Philia gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. "I was overjoyed when the King asked me to accompany you here. Truly, to be by your side in such a bleak place... it’s a privilege."

"Really? Because I thought you were like Yerel," Cherion drawled, checking his fingernails for imaginary dirt. "You know, not exactly a fan of the North? Too much mud, not enough mirrors?"

Philia’s smile didn’t falter, but it sharpened. It was the kind of smile that didn’t reach the eyes, the kind that belonged on a viper. He didn’t answer. Instead, he finally turned his attention to the silent mountain of a man standing behind Cherion.

"Oh, Your Grace! Please, forgive my lack of manners," Philia chirped, bowing with a grace that felt like a slap. "I was just so overcome with worry for my friend that I completely forgot to greet the master of the house. Welcome back, Your Grace."

Zarius stared down at the nobleman. He didn’t look like he was greeting a guest, he looked like he was evaluating a pest. "You must have had a difficult journey, Lord Philia," Zarius said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.

"Not at all," Philia replied sweetly. "No journey is too difficult when it’s for a dear, dear friend like Lord Cherion." He then paused, letting his gaze drift over Cherion’s disheveled state. "Though, I must say... perhaps the North is a bit much for you, Lord Cherion. Frail people like us aren’t exactly built for this ’rugged’ lifestyle. You look somewhat fatigued."

Cherion didn’t skip a beat. He let out a soft, sharp laugh. "Frail? Sure, let’s go with that. I’ll be sure to cry about it as soon as my fingers stop being literal icicles. But honestly, Lord Philia? Let’s not insult actually fragile people by putting us in the same bracket. I’ve spent my day helping where I could. To suggest we’re made from the same material just because we happened to share a home for a few years is... well, a bit of a reach, don’t you think?"

It went quiet, but not the peaceful kind. More like the "someone’s about to get verbally stabbed" kind.

Zarius was the one who finally broke the stalemate. "As much as I’m sure you both are enjoying this little trip down memory lane," the Duke interrupted, his hand tightening on Cherion’s waist, "we have just returned from the brink of death. We need to rest."

"You’re right, of course," Philia said, stepping back with a forced, airy smile. "We can talk more tomorrow, Lord Cherion. Once you’ve had a chance to... compose yourself."

Cherion turned to start walking inside. He was so ready to crawl into the nearest bed and stay there for a decade. But he didn’t even get three steps.

Suddenly, the world went vertical.

"Woah... hey! What is this?" Cherion yelped as Zarius scooped him up into his arms, carrying him bridal-style."Again?!"

"You’re exhausted," Zarius said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Stay still. Your legs are shaking."

Cherion’s face erupted in a heat that had nothing to do with the weather. He was stunned, He looked up at the Duke, lips parted, clearly forgetting how thinking worked for a second. He wanted to protest, his pride was screaming, but then he caught sight of Philia’s face over Zarius’s shoulder.

The mask had slipped. For a split second, Philia didn’t look worried or kind. He looked absolutely livid. His eyes were cold, calculating, and fixed on the way Zarius was holding Cherion like something precious.

Cherion felt a sudden, wicked surge of satisfaction. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he slowly circled his arms around Zarius’s neck, leaning his head against the Duke’s broad chest. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was not sorry about it.

As Zarius headed for the entrance, everything around them kicked back into motion like someone hit "play." Guards, servants, everyone suddenly busy again.

Even as everything moved around them, Cherion kept his eyes on Philia. Philia didn’t move an inch, just stood there in the middle of it all, staring like he had unfinished business.

Yeah... this wasn’t over.

Same problem, new location.