I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)-Chapter 52: The Price of Freedom

Cherion waddled. There was really no other word for it. After a week of eating what essentially amounted to wet gravel and disappointment, his stomach was currently experiencing a state of aggressive, buttery euphoria. He’d polished off the "apology breakfast" and now he felt like a very satisfied sleepy tick.

He reached Zarius’s study. His confidence was currently high on a sugar-and-protein spike, so instead of the hesitant, "please don’t kill me" tap of previous days, he gave the wood a jaunty, rhythmic rap. He didn’t wait for a formal summons. He pushed the door open just a crack and peeked in.

Inside, Flio was standing by the desk, looking like he’d just been put through a spiritual laundromat. He was pale, his collar was slightly wilted, and he was nodding frantically at something Zarius was saying in a low, terrifyingly calm voice.

"Oh, am I interrupting something?" Cherion asked, his head popping through the gap. "I can always come back later."

Flio’s head snapped toward the door. The look of relief on the man’s face was almost comical. He practically folded himself in half toward Cherion, a silent "thank you for saving me" radiating from his very pores.

"Lord Cherion," Flio squeaked. "I was just... leaving. My Lord, I shall see to those... reassignments immediately."

Zarius didn’t even look at Flio. His crimson eyes were fixed on Cherion. "Get in here, Little Omega. And shut the door."

Flio hurried out like a mouse escaping a particularly large cat. Cherion stepped in, and the door banged shut behind him, the sound making his confidence flicker for a heartbeat.

Zarius didn’t stay behind the desk. To Cherion’s surprise, the Duke stood and moved toward the seating area near the hearth. He sat on the plush leather couch, his presence making the expensive furniture look small. He gestured to the chair opposite him.

Cherion sat, sinking into the cushions. He let out a tiny, involuntary puff of air as he settled.

"You look... remarkably satisfied," Zarius noted, his voice a low rumble.

"I’m eighty percent butter at this point, Your Grace. If you try to execute me, I’ll just slide right out of the noose," Cherion quipped. He patted his stomach.

Zarius didn’t smile, but the sharp, jagged edge of his temper seemed to dull slightly. He leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees. "You did well, Cherion. I’ve never felt this stable since the disgusting curse took over my body."

"Well, I aim to please. And to not die. Mostly the not dying part."

"However," Zarius continued, his expression turning grave, "I’m afraid breaking the curse entirely won’t be the end of it, we must find the one who cast it. It will be a long, likely violent journey." He paused, his gaze intensifying. "I told you I pay my debts. When this is over, when I am whole and the threat to my house is extinguished, I will give you anything you desire."

Cherion blinked. "Anything?"

"Anything," Zarius repeated, his voice absolute. "A private island? A gold mine? A mountain of jewels that would make the King’s treasury look like a beggar’s cup? Name it. It is yours."

Cherion stared at him. He’d been lying to himself all this time. He’d pretend he was above it, above asking for... well, anything. He’d tell himself he didn’t want fancy things, he didn’t want jewels or castles. But otherwise? Totally humble, totally unambitious, definitely not scheming for a little luxury here and there.

And yet here was Zarius, sitting across from him like the most terrifyingly generous Santa Claus imaginable, basically saying, "Hey, pick literally anything. I got you."

For a second, he could see it, a beach, a little house with a big garden, and a lot of tropical drinks with little umbrellas to start his own tiki bar. Then his brain hit him with the usual warning: Grasp all, lose all.

Zarius watched him. "I know this is so sudden. So I will give you time to think about it, of course. It is a big decision..."

"Actually, I don’t need time," Cherion interrupted.

Zarius paused. One eyebrow arched upward. "Oh? You’ve been plotting your ’payment’ for a while, then?"

Cherion gave him a bright, sunny smile. "It’s a very simple request. Something you can definitely give me."

Zarius leaned back, looking almost amused. "Tell me then, little Omega. What is the price for the life of the Great Wolf?"

"I want our engagement canceled," Cherion said clearly. "The second you’re cured, I want a carriage waiting to take me far, far away from here. Somewhere where no one knows me and where I can live a normal life... and, uh, enough gold to keep me comfortable for a few years while I figure things out."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Zarius just... froze. Like someone had hit pause on him. The smugness vanished from Zarius’s face, replaced by wide-eyed shock. He looked like he’d been slapped with a wet fish.

Cherion had the sudden urge to snap his fingers or clap just to wake him up.

"You... want to leave?" Zarius asked back.

"I mean, why would I even stay?" Cherion gestured at himself. "We both don’t want this engagement."

Zarius stood up slowly, looming over the table. He looked... offended. Truly, deeply insulted. "You want to move far away? You would turn down a mine? An island? All the wealth just to flee from here?"

Cherion tilted his head, a teasing glint in his eyes. He leaned forward, mirroring the Duke’s posture. "Why, Your Grace? You sound almost disappointed. Don’t tell me you’ve grown fond of me? Can’t the big, scary Wolf let his little Omega go?"

Zarius’s jaw tightened so hard Cherion heard the bone creak. His crimson eyes flared with a dark, possessive heat that definitely wasn’t "business-like."

"I am a man of my word," Zarius growled, though his hand was gripping the edge of the desk until the wood groaned. "If that is the price you set, then that is the price I will pay."

Cherion allowed himself a small, satisfied smile and clapped his hands lightly.

Zarius walked to his desk and reached for what looked at first like an ordinary scroll, but the moment he unrolled it, Cherion’s jaw almost hit the floor. The parchment glowed with soft, golden light, runes twisting and sliding across its surface like tiny fireflies performing synchronized gymnastics.

"We will put this on record," Zarius said. "So that when the day comes, there will be no ’misunderstandings’ about exactly what we are owed to each other."

He walked around the desk to Cherion before leaning over slightly, his crimson eyes locking on Cherion’s.

"But do not think for a second, Little Omega, that the path to that carriage will be easy. You are mine until this curse is completely gone."