I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)

"Why are we here again, Cherion?"

The heavy doors of the dancing hall opened with a deep, resonant sound that echoed through the silent corridors of the castle like the awakening of an old, slumbering beast.

Cherion didn’t look back. He moved into the center of the room, his footsteps light against the floor. He stopped in the center, spun slightly, and threw his arms out like he was presenting a stage. "To dance, obviously. What else do you do in a ballroom? Play cards?"

Zarius’s brow furrowed, that familiar confusion crossing his face. "To dance? Now?"

"Why not now?" Cherion turned, a playful, sharp-edged grin cutting through the gloom. "You’re sad, Your Grace. You’re standing there like a statue of a grieving gargoyle, and frankly, it’s depressing me. Besides, I need practice. If I’m going to be the ’Duchess’ of this frozen wasteland, I can’t be tripping over my own feet at the next party, can I?"

Zarius hesitated, his hand still resting on the doorframe. "I am not in the mood for festivities, Cherion."

"It’s not a festivity. It’s a lesson," Cherion countered, walking back and grabbing Zarius by the hand. The Duke’s skin was cold, but Cherion’s grip was firm and warm. "Come on, Duke. Help this amateur for once."

With a reluctant sigh that sounded more like a surrender, Zarius allowed himself to be pulled into the center of the moonlight. Cherion stepped over to a tall, obsidian-framed gramophone tucked into the corner. Instead of a needle, a glowing blue crystal hovered over a silver disk. With a quick tap of his finger, the crystal humed to life, vibrating as it pulled a slow, haunting string melody out of the thin air.

"Hand here," Cherion instructed, placing Zarius’s large, calloused hand on his waist. "And I take this one..."

They began to move. It was slow at first, clumsy and cautious. Zarius moved with the rigid, military precision of a man who viewed dancing as a tactical maneuver rather than an art form. He was staring at Cherion’s forehead with intense concentration, his jaw locked tight.

"You know," Cherion whispered, leaning in as they turned. "For a man who can kill a frost-giant with a toothpick, you’re remarkably bad at relaxing. You’re holding me like I’m a live explosive."

"I am... focused," Zarius rumbled.

"You’re boring," Cherion teased, poking Zarius’s chest. "Tell me, Your Grace, what is your professional opinion of your partner’s skills so far? Am I a natural? Do I have the grace of a swan?"

Just as the words left his mouth, Cherion’s foot caught on a slightly uneven floor tile. Crunch. He stepped directly onto the toe of Zarius’s polished boot.

Cherion winced, looking down. "Oops. Yeah, no, that was... a creative decision. Let’s go with that."

Zarius didn’t even flinch, though his eyes flickered with a brief, dry spark of amusement. "That step... should be enough of an answer, I think. You are less a swan and more... enthusiastic chicken."

Cherion let out a bright, genuine laugh that seemed to startle the shadows in the corners of the room. "A chicken? Wow. The Duke has jokes. I see how it is."

He didn’t pull away. Instead, Cherion pressed closer, intentionally bridging the gap until his chest brushed against the dark fabric of Zarius’s tunic. He wanted to feel that heartbeat. He just wanted to keep Zarius grounded, here, now, not stuck in the cemetery or everything his family expected of him. He was being cheeky, provocative, and entirely too confident in his ability to handle the man before him.

"Watch this," Cherion said, his eyes gleaming. "I read about this move in a romance manhwa... I meant... a picture book back home. It’s the ultimate move for a lead."

"Cherion, I don’t think..."

"Shh. Don’t think. Just let me lead."

Cherion shifted his weight. He intended to perform a dramatic, sweeping ’Dip’, the kind where the lead leans the partner back in a show of romantic dominance. In his head, he was the dashing hero and Zarius was the one who would be swept off his feet.

He gripped Zarius’s shoulder and tried to sweep his leg out to support the Duke’s weight as he leaned him back. But Cherion had forgotten one very important detail: Zarius Valtrane was a six-foot-four powerhouse of solid muscle and beast bone density. He was not a delicate manhwa lead. He was a mountain.

As Cherion tried to force the ’dip,’ his own center of gravity vanished. His foot slipped on the polished marble, and his strength gave out.

"Wait...woah!"

With a startled yelp, Cherion went down, and because his hands were still locked around Zarius’s neck, he took the Duke with him.

The sound of their bodies hitting the floor was muffled by the thick, dusty rug, but the impact was enough to knock the wind out of Cherion’s lungs. He landed squarely on top of Zarius’s chest, his legs tangled with the Duke’s, his face only inches away from the other man’s.

For a moment, there was only the sound of the music and the frantic thudding of Cherion’s heart.

"Well," Cherion wheezed, trying to find his breath. He looked down at Zarius, who was lying flat on his back, his dark hair spread out against the floor. "I... I meant to do that. It’s a Southern tradition. The ’Sudden Floor-Check.’ Very popular where I come from."

Cherion waited for the reprimand. He waited for Zarius to groan about his ribs or lift him off like a troublesome sack of grain.

Instead, a vibration started deep in the chest beneath him. It wasn’t a growl this time, but a quiet huff that gradually became an actual chuckle. It was a rusty sound, as if it hadn’t been used in years, but it was warm, warmer than anything else in this castle.

Cherion froze, a slow, triumphant smile spreading across his lips. Got you, he thought.

He didn’t scramble to get up. Instead, Cherion shifted his weight, propping his elbow firmly against the center of Zarius’s chest and resting his chin in the palm of his hand. He looked down at the Duke with a look of pure mischief, watching the way the moonlight softened the harsh lines of Zarius’s face.

His grin spread, slow and completely unbothered.

Yeah, he should really do that more often. It worked for him.

Which was, frankly, a dangerous discovery.

Because now that Cherion had seen it, there was no way he was letting it be a one-time thing.