Home I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL) Chapter 331: A Messy Room

I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)

Chapter 331: A Messy Room
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Chapter 331: A Messy Room

The Captain of the Imperial Guard didn’t look like a man handling a crucial piece of evidence. He looked like an exhausted civil servant who wanted nothing more than to crawl into his own bed before the morning shift began. He balanced the small, tattered book in his hand, flipping through the pages.

"Looks like nothing more than a maid’s personal diary, Your Highnesses," the Captain said. He didn’t even read a full sentence, his eyes simply skating over the uneven blocks of ink. "About her routine, some chores, and other things."

He held it out, and Yerel took the notebook without a word, remaining comfortably leaned against the bedroom door. He skimmed through it, lingering over a few pages longer than the others.

"Keep a secure hold on it," Yerel said, handing it back into the Captain’s palms. "There are a few interesting details in there. Don’t stop now. Keep searching, and tear up the floor if you must."

Yerel turned, and Gillian fell into step beside him while Zarius followed a pace behind. His red eyes moved from the dark corners of the ceiling to the floor below.

"Maybe the girl left something useful in there," Yerel remarked. "A name, perhaps. Or a confession she hadn’t quite finished writing before she took her little walk into the woods."

Gillian let out a short, harsh breath that sounded dangerously close to a laugh. "Yes, of course. It would be so incredibly easy for everyone if she just left everything she might have done here in painstaking detail. A nice, neat list of her crimes, signed and dated for our convenience."

As Yerel opened the bedroom door, his gaze immediately swept down the hallway. Sure enough, Philia was there, standing beside Valen while one of the guards questioned them. Neither of them appeared rattled, though Philia listened patiently as the guard spoke, answering only when necessary.

Before long, two maids hurried down the corridor. The moment they spotted Philia, both rushed straight into her arms, their faces pale and streaked with tears. Their voices overlapped as they recounted finding the maid’s body in the woods, each trying to explain what had happened through trembling breaths.

Philia gently soothed them, speaking in a calm, reassuring voice until their sobs gradually quieted. Only after they had composed themselves did the guard step forward again and escort the two maids away to continue taking their statements.

Now, only five of them remained in the narrow, shadowed hallway: Yerel, Gillian, Zarius, Philia, and Valen, who stood three paces behind his master like a piece of the architecture.

"Prince Yerel," Philia spoke first, his voice frantic, his chest heaving under his fine linen tunic as if he had run all the way from his chamber. His hands trembled slightly as he reached toward them, then dropped them to his sides in a gesture of utter helplessness. "Why would Mina kill herself? Your Highness, please tell me, does this truly have to do with Princess Iryna’s poisoning?"

Yerel adjusted collar, his eyes fixed on Philia’s frantic face with the steady, chilling patience of a cat watching a mouse behind a baseboard.

"There are indications pointing that way, Philia," Yerel replied calmly, entirely devoid of the warmth Philia was projecting. "But we cannot be certain yet. The palace is large, the servants are many, and despair can take root in anyone."

"Wina... she was a good girl," Philia murmured, rubbing his forehead with a pale hand, his breath catching in his throat. "A bit quiet, perhaps, but always diligent. To think she was harboring such dark thoughts... it breaks my heart."

Zarius stepped forward, his heavy shadow falling over Philia like a physical weight. The Northern Duke didn’t look sad, and he didn’t look angry. He looked like an executioner measuring the length of a rope.

"You knew the maid, then?" Zarius asked.

Philia didn’t flinch. He met the Duke’s gaze, his face betraying nothing but genuine concern. "Yes, I know her."

"Then you might be able to give us some information later," Gillian added, his voice sharp and impatient, his eyes darting toward the stairs where the diary had been taken. "Who knows if it can help. Every scrap of her routine matters now."

"Of course," Philia said quickly, bowing his head. "Anything the crown requires. I only wish I had noticed her distress sooner. If I had spoken to her, perhaps..."

"You have spoken quite enough for this day, Philia," Yerel interrupted. His voice wasn’t loud, but the aristocratic amusement was entirely gone, replaced by a cold, royal authority that made even the distant guards stiffen.

Yerel took a single step closer to the holy man, his gaze dropping to the mud on Philia’s boots, then rising back to his face. "The palace is under a secure imperial lockdown.A foreign princess is resting in one of our chambers, and the nobles are already sharpening their knives behind closed doors. You cannot wander around the servant quarters like this anymore, offering blessings to the kitchen staff while my men are trying to clear a crime scene."

He shifted his freezing gaze past Philia’s shoulder, his eyes locking directly onto Valen, who remained perfectly still in the shadows.

"And see to it that your attendant works better to protect his master’s position," Yerel said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, quiet hiss. "If I catch you wandering around again while things are like this, I’ll assume you’re looking for something you lost. And I will have my guards help you look, with their swords drawn. I will not tolerate loose pieces in my palace."

Without waiting for an answer, Yerel turned on his heel, his heavy boots striking the stone as he walked away toward the grand staircase. Gillian followed a half-step behind, while Zarius gave Philia one long, lingering look before his massive form vanished into the darkness after them.

Left alone in the corridor, Philia stood perfectly still, the frantic grief slowly draining from his face until his expression was as cold and hard as the plaster walls around him.

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