I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)

Chapter 268: The Worst Possible Request

From his very comfy spot by the refreshment table, Cherion slowly swirled the sweet sparkling juice in his crystal glass, absolutely living his best life. In his other hand? A half-eaten pastry he was very seriously committed to. He leaned back against a stone pillar like the chaos happening around him was someone else’s problem, perfectly relaxed as the tense storm of the imperial ballroom swirled on.

This was the very first time they had stood face-to-face with Yerel and Philia since the duo left the North.

And right on cue, the nobles started backing away like someone had dropped a venomous snake in the middle of the ballroom, forming a wide, cautious circle around them. Cherion hid his smirk behind his glass as frantic whispers spread through the rustle of silk fans.

"Oh my goodness, look over there... it’s the Crown Prince and the Duke."

"It’s a reunion of the ex-fiancés!"

"Oh... Lord Philia is right there, too. This is practically a battleground."

Cherion calmly finished the rest of his pastry, completely unbothered that he was standing right in the middle of what looked like a high-society disaster movie.

Next to him, Zarius kept up his "frail and barely surviving" act perfectly, giving a slow, controlled nod. His voice came out like a smooth, gravelly rumble. "Your Highness. Lord Philia. I’m surprised you’ve graced us with your presence down here instead of enjoying the royal dais. I assumed the view from up there would be entertaining enough."

Yerel glanced at Zarius’s relaxed stance and gave a sharp little smirk, like he’d already decided something annoying. "Naturally. As the future ruler of this empire, it is only right that I check on the health of my most prominent Duke. I am glad you could make it tonight, Zarius, even if you look a bit worn out from the journey. The North must be getting too heavy for a broken man to carry."

Cherion sipped his drink slowly, glancing sideways at his fiancé. Zarius didn’t even blink.

"The North is indeed heavy, Your Highness, but only for those who lack the spine to stand in its winds," Zarius replied. He let out a faint, entirely artificial cough into his fist. "But you need not worry. It takes far more than a little fatigue to break a wolf. I assure you, my mind and my blade remain as sharp as ever. I would hate for anyone else to mistake my current rest for a lack of vigilance. Some people have a terrible habit of celebrating a victory before the battle is even finished."

Before Yerel could fire back, Philia stepped forward.

"Indeed, Your Grace," Philia said. "It is a relief to see you standing, though perhaps you shouldn’t overexert yourself on the dance floor. The Capital’s air can be quite harsh on a compromised constitution. We would hate for the Duke’s legendary strength to turn out to be nothing more than a desperate rumor to keep the borders quiet."

Cherion let out a quiet hum, totally amused by the subtle hostility. Deciding it was his turn to join the fun, he tilted his glass toward Philia with an empty smile. "Thank you for the heartfelt concern, Lord Philia. It’s truly touching to see such anxiety from the palace. Though, if we’re talking about harsh air, I recall the Northern winter being quite brutal to those who weren’t invited to stay. I’m glad to see you’ve recovered so well after deciding our estate wasn’t to your liking. The Capital’s warmth seems to suit your... delicate nature much better than our frozen gates."

Cherion watched with immense satisfaction as Philia’s smile instantly stiffened, his fingers tightening against his silk sleeves.

Yerel’s jaw tightened. From Cherion’s perspective, the change in the Crown Prince’s demeanor was almost amusing. Yerel was usually a master of keeping up a calm, perfectly unbothered facade, but right now, he looked visibly agitated. Hmph, Cherion thought, taking a casual mental note of the slight twitch in the prince’s jaw. It was rare to see the regal Crown Prince losing his composure so easily, and it only made Cherion feel more relaxed as he stood comfortably beside Zarius.

Yerel then turned his full, intense attention toward Cherion. His gaze shifted into something deeply complex.

"You speak boldly now, Cherion," Yerel sneered. "It seems a few months in the wilderness have made you forget how quickly status can change in the Capital. A comfortable corner today doesn’t guarantee a seat tomorrow. You used to appreciate much grander stages than a hidden table."

"Oh, I haven’t forgotten anything, Your Highness," Cherion replied smoothly, taking another casual sip. "In fact, being away has only sharpened my memory. It made me realize just how small the Capital really is, and how much energy people waste here pretending to be giants. I find that quiet corners offer a much clearer view of who is actually running the show, and who is simply putting on a desperate, pathetic performance for the crowd because they have nothing else left."

Zarius let out a low, satisfied chuckle behind his glass, which only made Yerel look like he was about to combust.

Yerel took a step directly into Cherion’s personal space. He glanced at the whispering crowd and instantly switched into polished royal performance mode.

"Look at them," Yerel said, gesturing faintly to the gossiping nobles. "All these nobles probably think that we are in constant animosity. We really need to tell them that we’re on good terms, and that we are not bound to the past. Don’t you agree?"

Cherion blinked once, an eyebrow slowly lifting as he swallowed another gulp of juice. Is this guy serious right now? he thought, completely fascinated by the sheer delusion.

Yerel extended his hand, palm up, wearing a perfectly rehearsed princely smile that didn’t reach his eyes at all. He locked eyes with Cherion like this was already decided.

"The grand waltz is starting up again," Yerel announced clearly, ensuring his voice carried over the hushed whispers of the nearby crowd. "Dance with me, Cherion."

Cherion had just taken a particularly large, refreshing mouthful of his sparkling juice to clear his throat after the sweet pastry.

Hearing the absolute, delusional absurdity of the request, the Crown Prince publicly asking his ex-fiancé to dance right in front of both of their current partners, completely ignoring court etiquette, basic sanity, and his own devoted fiancé standing right next to him, Cherion’s brain politely stopped functioning.

Pfffffttttt!

Before he could even process it properly, his body betrayed him.

Before anyone could react, a spectacular spray of sparkling juice erupted from Cherion’s mouth and hit Yerel directly. Sticky liquid splashed across the Crown Prince’s chest, decorated his collar, and face, ruining the pristine perfection of his white-and-gold uniform.