I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)

Chapter 332: The Rumors Grow Louder

"First the Solaric Princess takes a sip of wine and nearly dies before her guards can even draw their swords," Lord Marbury muttered, his voice a low, gravelly vibration as he swirled the amber liquid in his crystal glass. He was a broad-shouldered Alpha from the coastal marches, his usual arrogant posture completely gone as he leaned heavily against the marble mantelpiece. "And now? A dead body found in the forest before the noon bells can even ring. It’s an absolute mess."

"Hush, Marbury! Don’t say things like that so loudly," a younger earl hissed from the velvet sofa, his face a pasty, frantic white as he wrung his hands together. He looked toward the heavy oak doors as if expecting the Imperial Guard to burst through with leg irons. "The King’s mages are probably tracking every whisper through the flues. Just... pray for the best. The treaty isn’t dead yet."

"Pray for the best?" Marbury let out a harsh, bitter bark of a laugh, slamming his glass down onto the mantle hard enough to rattle the porcelain ornaments. "The lords are already demanding the execution of the entire kitchen staff, the priests are locking themselves in the chapel, and we’re sitting here drinking the King’s reserve like sheep waiting for the butcher. What’s after this? Tell me that. If the peace treaty falls through, the border lords will be the first ones to bleed."

Across the room, a cluster of older nobles nodded in grim agreement, their faces lined with a deep, frantic panic that no amount of expensive alcohol could soothe. The palace had always been a place of quiet whispers and polite stabs in the dark, but this felt different. It felt like the ground beneath the capital was shifting, and nobody knew who was going to fall into the crack first.

"And what about the Northern Duke?" another Alpha asked, leaning in closer to the circle, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial murmur. He was a minor count from the southern plains, his fingers twitching nervously against his silk waistcoat. "Duke Zarius hasn’t shown his face all day. They say he’s locked in his chamber."

"Well, pretty mcuh anyone from the North. But you know Duke Zarius is sick," Marbury muttered, reaching for the crystal decanter to pour himself another heavy splash. "He only had enough strength left to dance with his fiancée once before exhaustion caught up with him."

The young earl on the sofa leaned forward, his eyes wide with a sudden, dark intensity. "Maybe he’s not sick-sick. Have any of you actually seen a cold take down a man that size? It’s nonsense. What if it’s a curse? A retribution from the gods for killing so many lives all this time."

"A curse?" Marbury scoffed, tossing his head back as he took a deep swallow of the brandy. "Don’t be ridiculous. He didn’t murder whoever it was they found in the forest. He just went to war. He went to the subjugations under the King’s order. If the gods cursed every Alpha who took a head on the battlefield, the entire peerage would be rotting in their beds by now. Either the man was born unlucky, or the Northern damp has finally rotted his lungs."

"You didn’t see him during that war, Marbury," the southern count whispered, his voice trembling slightly as he looked around the room. "They say it wasn’t just a battle, it was an execution. He didn’t leave a single blade of grass standing. You think that kind of blood just washes off your hands? It sticks to you. It sours the spirit."

"Nonsense," Marbury repeated, though his grip on his glass tightened slightly. "The Duke is a weapon. The King uses him when he needs a throat cut, and puts him back in the sheath when the winter comes. If he’s dying, it’s because his body is failing him, not because some ghost is pulling at his sleeve."

"But the timing," the young earl insisted, his voice rising in pitch as the panic took over again. "The Solaric Princess gets poisoned right after he arrives in the capital. Then the body in the forest. Duke Zarius is a beast from the mountains, he hates the Solaric more than anyone in this room, he killed them! What if he’s using his illness as a front? What if he’s the one who ordered the girl to drop the packet?"

"Keep your tongue between your teeth if you want to keep your head on your shoulders," Marbury snapped, his Alpha aura flaring for a brief, suffocating second that made the younger man instantly drop his gaze. "Accusing the Northern Duke of treason in a room full of loose lips is a quick way to find yourself at the bottom of the river. If Prince Yerel hears you spreading that kind of rot, the guards won’t even wait for a trial."

At this point, all they could do was hope the worst was finally over. No one wanted another body to be found, another life to be lost. More than anything, they hoped they wouldn’t be the next person caught in whatever was happening.

Not far from them, hidden in the deep shadow beneath the portrait of the First King, a figure stood perfectly still.

Every word spoken inside the salon reached the shadowed corner, the poison, the dead body, the Duke’s failing health. The figure remained perfectly still, listening until the conversation finally drew to a close, their features swallowed by the darkness.

The nobles and attendants remained absorbed in their own discussions. Voices overlapped as theories gave way to fresh rumors, each person convinced they understood what had happened. Some argued over the poison, others whispered about the body in the forest, while a few quietly speculated about the Duke’s worsening condition.

No one spared a glance toward the shadowed corner where the figure stood.

For a long moment, they didn’t move.

Then, a quiet chuckle slipped through the silence.

"The Duke... and the curse."

The words were barely audible, but whether they found the rumors amusing or simply expected them, there was no way to tell.

The smirk lingered for only a moment before disappearing.

The figure stepped backward into the darkness instead of away from it, and with each silent step, their outline seemed to melt into the shadows themselves. Within seconds, they were gone.