I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)

Chapter 161: A Blessing Neither Denied

"Wow, Your Grace. This place is awesome."

Cherion’s voice was nearly lost the second he stepped off the carriage. The place was loud. Like, aggressively loud.

It wasn’t just noise either, it was everything. People talking over each other, things clattering, someone yelling in the distance... the market hit him at once, like walking straight into chaos.

It felt... real. In the novels he’d read back in his own world, there was always an obligatory "market Chapter" where the protagonist marveled at the local color, but the text never quite captured the grit of it. He didn’t know the names of that strange, translucent charms that looked like trapped frost, or why those bundles of dried berries glowed with a dim, earthy red, he just knew they were exactly the kind of fantasy details he’d once only seen on a screen or a page. Now, the cold was nipping at his nose, and the noise of a thousand haggling voices was rattling his teeth.

Zarius stepped closer, basically turning into a human wall, blocking the wind. He didn’t look like a Duke. He looked like a very dangerous, very well-fed mercenary. "First," Zarius replied, "I agree. It has its charms. Second... drop the ’your grace.’ No titles today."

Cherion blinked, turning to look up at the man. "Why? I mean, you’re the Duke. I figured the people here would actually be thrilled to see you just... out and about, strolling through the market like a normal person."

Zarius’s jaw tightened, though there was a flicker of something, perhaps a rare, weary sort of pride, in his eyes. "That’s exactly why. I’d rather avoid the unnecessary fuss. No bowing. No formal petitions. Just... walking."

Probably afraid his ’scary’ reputation will ruin everyone’s shopping trip, Cherion thought with a hidden smirk. He leaned in, his blue eyes sparkling with trouble. "Fine. But I have to call you something. How about... ’Love’?"

Zarius actually stumbled. It was tiny. Barely noticeable. But it happened. His head snapped toward Cherion like he’d just been hit with emotional damage.

"Kidding! I’m kidding," Cherion laughed, waving a hand dismissively, though his own heart did something deeply unhelpful in his chest. "God, you should see your face. Okay, let’s see... ZeeZee? No, too fluffy. Zarey? Hmm. How about... Little Nugget?"

Cherion bit his lip to keep from howling. He’d seen a flash of a memory of little Zarius. Oh, adorable.

Zarius looked genuinely distressed. "What in the gods’ name is a ’nugget’?"

"It’s... it’s a compliment. Probably," Cherion chirped.

"Zarius is fine," the Duke grumbled, though he didn’t pull away when Cherion’s shoulder brushed his. "Just... Zarius."

They wandered deeper into the market. The "date", though Cherion was still insisting to himself it was just a quick look around, started sounding weaker by the second. Cherion was basically a magpie in human form. Every three steps, he stopped to poke something, smell something, or stare at something shiny.

"We need this," Cherion said, holding up a rough-cut blue stone that caught the pale sun. "It matches the sky here. And we need gifts. For Marielle, Reiner, Flio, Elios... and, well, literally everyone at the mansion, except for Philia. It’s only fair, right?"

Zarius didn’t complain once. He just reached out, his large hand taking the growing pile of bags. He followed Cherion like a silent, protective shadow, his eyes constantly scanning the crowd, not for threats, but seemingly to ensure no one jostled the smaller man. It was unnerving.

The smells of the market finally got to them near a stall draped in heavy canvas. A woman was frying dough in deep vats of oil, the scent of honey and warming spices thick enough to taste.

"One. Please. I’m starving," Cherion said, already reaching for the small leather pouch tucked into his belt. Zarius had practically forced the coins on him back in the carriage, dropping the heavy purse into his lap with a grunt that brooked no argument. "Spend it on whatever catches your eye," the Duke had said.

They stood off to the side, sharing a paper wrap of dangerously hot, honey-covered dough. Cherion winced, broke off a piece, blew on it... and then, without thinking, held it up to Zarius.

The whole market blurred into background noise. The shouting merchants, the clinking of armor, the barking dogs, it all faded into the background. Zarius froze, his eyes locking onto Cherion’s. For a second, Cherion realized how intimate this was. But oh, please. It was just a habit. Basic manners. That’s it. If anyone asked.

Zarius leaned down. He didn’t take the dough with his hands, he took it directly from Cherion’s fingers. His lips brushed against Cherion’s skin before he pulled back, chewing slowly.

"It’s good," Zarius commented, voice a little rougher than before.

Heat rushed to his face. He shoved a piece of dough into his own mouth, only to realize he’d made a mess. A sticky drop of honey had escaped, clinging to the corner of his lower lip. He went to reach for his sleeve, but Zarius was faster.

Instead of a handkerchief, he reached for Cherion.

His thumb was warm, even through the chill air, as it swiped across Cherion’s lip. He didn’t just wipe it, he lingered there. His thumb pressed into the soft skin that made Cherion’s breath hitch in his throat. And then, with an intensity that felt like a physical blow, Zarius brought his thumb to his own mouth and licked the remnant of honey away.

Cherion’s brain shut down completely. Just... ceased to function. He was pretty sure his heart had actually skipped a beat. Maybe two.

"Sticky," Zarius whispered. "But sweet."

They kept walking after that, though Cherion felt like he was floating about three inches off the ground. He was so distracted that he almost tripped into a jewelry stall. The vendor, a grandmotherly woman with silver hair braided into a crown, beamed at them as they approached.

"Oh, now that is a sight," she said brightly. "You two... you’re a rare match. I’ve been selling stones here for forty years, and I can always tell when the Winter Gods have been at work."

Cherion felt the panic rise. "Ahahaha..."

"Look at him," the woman continued, gesturing to Zarius. "It’s rare to see a protector watch his partner like he’s the only star in a midnight sky. You’re a lucky one. He looks like he’d burn the world just to keep you warm."

Cherion’s mouth opened and closed. He was frantically searching for a way to say ’Actually, this is not what you think it is,’ but the words wouldn’t come. He felt like a fool, standing there blushing like a debutante.

He expected Zarius to pull away, offering some cold, formal correction.

Instead, he felt a massive, heavy arm drape over his shoulders. Zarius hauled Cherion flush against his side, tucking him under the crook of his arm as if he were claiming a piece of territory.

Zarius looked the seller dead in the eye, a small soft smile playing on his lips. "You’ve got it the wrong way around," Zarius said. "I’m the lucky one to have found him. And I’ll make sure the North never treats him with anything but warmth."

Cherion went completely still, like even blinking was too much.

As they walked away from the stall, Zarius’s hand stayed right where it was, firmly anchored on Cherion’s shoulder. And the worst part? Cherion didn’t want him to let go.