I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)

Chapter 326: The Loose Stone

Gillian didn’t even wait for them to get ten paces from the study before he exploded, his voice a harsh, furious whisper as he marched down the corridor. His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were stark white.

"A kitchen maid," Gillian muttered under his breath, his voice low, barely containing his frustration, as they rounded a corner. He glanced sharply at Zarius, his eyes filled with frustration. "They expect us to believe a maid somehow acquired a highly refined, lethal poison, slipped it into my sister’s food or drink, and then miraculously decided to kill herself with common hemlock out of pure guilt? It’s a farce, Zarius. A complete and utter farce to save this precious peace treaty."

Zarius kept his expression neutral, though he took in every word, every twitch of Gillian’s jaw. "The timing fits together a little too neatly," Zarius agreed quietly. "But in politics, a convenient truth is often more valuable than an inconvenient reality."

Before Gillian could vent any further, a smooth, drippingly arrogant voice sliced through the dim hallway.

"An exceptionally astute observation, Duke Zarius. As expected of our fearsome Northern Duke."

Zarius didn’t flinch, but his internal guard instantly locked into place. Yerel stepped out from the deep shadows of an intersecting corridor, his hands tucked casually behind his back. He wore a faint, mocking smile that didn’t reach his sharp eyes. He fell into step beside them with an effortless grace that made Zarius’s jaw tighten.

"You know, Prince Gillian," Yerel continued, barely sparing the Solaric royal a glance, "looking for a shadow where there might only be a corner doesn’t change our immediate path. Our guards are perfectly capable of turning her room inside out. If someone did put her up to this, they will have left a footprint in her life. Why exhaust yourself fighting the scenario before we even see what the search uncovers?"

Gillian stopped dead in his tracks, turning to face Yerel with a look that could have melted stone. "They actually expect us to sit back and accept this, Zarius. Forgive me if I don’t share your absolute, casual indifference toward an assassination attempt on royal guests."

Yerel simply chuckled, a soft, irritating sound. "Indifference? Not at all. I am merely a realist. If we allow anger to dictate how we view the crime scene, we will only see what we want to see. If someone did frame that girl, they want us frantic, divided, and pointing fingers at the crown. The most effective way to honor the gravity of what happened to your sister is to let the investigators do their work, and verify the results ourselves. Which is exactly why I am suggesting we go look at her quarters now."

Zarius weighed the offer instantly. Cherion’s parting words echoed in his mind, but Cherion also needed information. Seeing the maid’s quarters firsthand, watching how the Imperial Guard handled the "evidence," would give Zarius the exact leverage they needed to figure out who was truly pulling the strings.

"Lead the way, Prince Yerel," Zarius said, his tone carrying a perfectly crafted layer of weary indifference. "If nothing else, a walk might clear the stagnant air."

Yerel’s invitation didn’t lead them straight to the servants’ quarters. Instead, he smoothly detoured them toward a secluded, stone-walled chamber near the lower grounds, where the kitchen maid’s body had been temporarily laid out.

The room was freezing, smelling faintly of old stone and vinegar. The girl lay on a cold slate slab, a coarse linen sheet covering her down to her chest. Her face was a stark, lifeless gray, her lips stained with a dark, telltale tint from the crude hemlock she had swallowed.

Gillian stepped closer, his breath pluming in the chilly air as he studied her frozen features with a mix of pity and intense skepticism. "She looks terrified," he muttered, tracing the bruising on her fingertips. "Even in death."

"Guilt is a heavy burden, Prince Gillian," Yerel said smoothly from the doorway, entirely unfazed by the sight of the corpse. He leaned against the frame, crossing his arms. "The physician already confirmed the poison matches the vial found by her side. The facts seem straightforward enough."

Zarius stood in the shadows, his dark eyes cataloging the slight tearing on the fabric of her sleeve and the neat placement of her hair. It looked almost too pristine for someone who had died in a panicked frenzy. The scene felt entirely curated, a perfect prop left behind to tell a very specific story.

"Seeing her changes nothing," Zarius said aloud, keeping his voice heavy with a carefully manufactured exhaustion. "A dead girl still provides no answers. Let us see what the captain has unraveled in her quarters instead."

The walk to the servants’ quarters took them down into the lower levels of the palace, well away from the nice guest wings. The air down here got noticeably colder, smelling heavily of damp stone and cheap laundry soap.

A pair of heavily armored Imperial Guards stood outside a narrow wooden door at the end of a low-ceilinged hallway. They immediately straightened, bowing sharply as Yerel, Gillian, and Zarius approached.

Inside, the room was tiny, suffocatingly dark, and in complete disarray

The Captain of Imperial Guard stood near the center of the cramped space, his arms crossed over his armored chest as three of his guards methodically tore the room apart. Mattresses were ripped open, thin wool blankets scattered across the floor, and the contents of a small wooden chest lay scattered across a rickety table.

"Report, Captain," Yerel commanded smoothly, stepping over a discarded wooden stool without breaking his stride.

The Captain turned, bowing his head respectfully to the princes and the Duke. "Your Highnesses. Your Grace. We are being thorough, but so far, the girl lived a remarkably meager life. A few copper coins, some spare uniform linens, and a string of prayer beads."

Zarius stepped further into the room, his towering frame making the already small space feel entirely claustrophobic. He let his eyes wander, not looking at the obvious piles of clothes, but studying the subtle details. He noticed the dust patterns on the small windowsill, the grease stains near the cold hearth, and the way the small wooden chest had been pried open.

His military training, the years spent hunting scouts and tracking saboteurs in the brutal northern snows, made him hyper-aware of things that felt out of place.

"Find anything concealed under the floor? The wall? Anything?" Gillian asked, his voice tight as he paced the narrow perimeter of the room.

"Nothing yet, Prince Gillian," the Captain replied heavily. "If she had a master, they were meticulous. No letters, no unusual gold, no residues."

Just then, one of the guards kneeling by the corner of the small cot let out a low grunt. "Captain. There’s a loose stone in the wall right behind the headboard."

The room went dead silent. Gillian stepped forward eagerly, while Yerel merely arched an eyebrow, looking faintly amused. Zarius stayed back, his red eyes narrowing as the guard reached deep into the dark cavity of the stone wall and pulled out a small, tattered leather-bound notebook.

The guard handed it to the Captain, who carefully brushed the dust from the cover. "It’s a book, Your Highnesses."