When I Finished Playing the Terminally-Ill Villainous Omega C9

Chapter 9

“Cedric.”

I had just finished lunch and was headed toward my room when Cassian called out to stop me.

“What are you playing at? Wasn’t it you who hated that brat even more than I did?”

Though he never named him, his meaning was obvious.

I pretended ignorance, widening my eyes.

“Hm? Which brat?”

A faint vein pulsed across Cassian’s temple.

“My darling little brother has grown quite the nerve. I’m honestly shocked these days. I wonder if you’re even the same child I used to know.”

I had been shocked as well lately—realizing that the person I was forced to call my brother was this much of a snake.

I stared back blankly, expression unchanged. Cassian scoffed.

“Do you know what I heard recently?”

“No idea?”

“Just remember—this mansion has ears and eyes everywhere, even if you don’t see them.”

“Oh? Ears and eyes? Monsters? Ew. Disgusting.”

“…It means don’t bring shame upon our noble house.”

He threw his parting jab—terminal illness doesn’t exempt you from noble dignity—and then shouldered past me.

Perhaps you should worry more about your own neck.

I climbed the stairs, glaring at his back, then returned to my room—only to freeze. Locke stood before my door, motionless.

“Ah!”

Apparently, I also needed to protect my own neck better—because I shrieked and stumbled back, panic immediately flaring. On instinct, I scanned the hall for danger in case a mission was about to trigger.

We were alone in the corridor. My shoes were clean. No dust. No bystanders.

Only then did I dare face Locke properly.

“Why are you here? I told you—you’re free unless I call for you.”

Despite having just screamed like a startled cat, I approached him with practiced nonchalance.

“I wished to ask you something.”

“To me? What is it?”

Locke wanting to ask me something—it unexpectedly pleased me.

“Earlier…”

He paused, biting his lower lip and lowering his gaze.

I am not the Cedric you once knew. Don’t be afraid.

I softened my features, taking a step closer.

“It’s all right. Ask comfortably.”

Perhaps that was the permission he was waiting for; his lips parted.

“As far as I recall, you did not assign me any errands today. So I wondered whether I misremembered… or if I misunderstood your words earlier.”

Ah. That.

I replied gently,

“There’s no need to complicate things. I simply didn’t like seeing my brother torment you.”

“…You were helping me?”

“Yes. Anyone would see I was trying to get you out of there. Yet you doubt my goodwill every time—honestly, it makes me a little… no, sorry. Forget it. My feelings are fine. Just… don’t glare at me like that.”

I began indignantly, then shrank immediately under his stare.

“I wasn’t glaring. I simply… find it hard to believe.”

“What part?”

“That you continue to help me.”

“I told you, didn’t I? You’re my person. Bullying you is insulting me. Why would I allow that?”

“In the past, you did. Did you not? You even—”

His fists clenched tightly.

Seriously, why clench your fists instead of talking like a civilized human…

I shrank instinctively, and Locke bit his lip, swallowing the rest of his sentence. A faint tremor seemed to pass his mouth.

I could hardly blame him. To suddenly be treated kindly by someone who had tormented him relentlessly—anyone would be confused. Someday, I hoped my sincerity would reach him.

“And that’s the only reason you help me?”

“What other reason could there be? I’ll keep treating you well. My answer will always be the same. You don’t have to ask me every time.”

“With my foolish head, I cannot fathom your intentions.”

“Then how about this? I need allies in this house.”

Locke fell silent, staring.

“I want someone loyal and trustworthy, just like my brother has. Aside from Mother and Father, I have no one on my side. Because I’m dying, everyone assumed I wasn’t worth aligning with. It frustrated me. So I changed my thinking. Does that help you understand my actions?”

“You wish me to become your ally?”

“Sounds shameless, but yes. I’d like you on my side. In return, I’ll protect you from others—like I did earlier.”

“Why me?”

His question was sharp. Depending on my answer, I might earn his trust—or provoke hostility.

I lowered my gaze, pretending to ponder, expression tinged with quiet melancholy. Outside the window, servants laughed as they headed toward the garden beds.

Locke wasn’t easily swayed by emotion, but I had no other tools. I could only hope he had even a grain of sentiment somewhere inside him.

“You’re the only one who endured. Every attendant before you quit within a week. No matter how badly you were treated, you never once missed giving me my medicine. You never tried to tamper with it.”

A dying noble was a perfect target for those seeking escape—swapping medicine was an easy option.

Yet Locke never did—not even while fleeing.

“It seemed… loyal. Oddly loyal, for someone with such a fierce nature.”

His eyes sharpened.

“I was Lady Cecil’s faithful hound. That is why your request confuses me even more.”

“What part?”

“If I remembered every slight… every cruelty, and planned to repay them? If loyalty were merely a mask hiding my claws—would you still hand a blade to someone who might stab you?”

Blade? If he would only be my ally, I’d be further from death, not nearer.

He didn’t understand—but how could he? From his perspective, I was suspicious. And from mine, he was maddeningly difficult.

Clever beast. Couldn’t he be dumb just once? Who talks like that—sounds like a villain already practicing his throne speech.

Still—this was progress. I could not waste this chance.

“That’s my karma. I can’t erase what was done to you just by treating you kindly now.”

After all, it was still me choosing the system’s commands. Even if this Cedric hadn’t done those things, the original had.

“But I’ll continue being good to you. Until you forgive me.”

“And if I choose not to?”

“Then I’ll just keep trying. Forever, if I must—well, until I die, at least—”

Grrrrrgle.

His stomach growled loudly. We both froze.

Of course—he had been dragged around all day without eating.

I scanned quickly, then gently took his wrist. The kitchens wouldn’t serve food at this hour.

Fortunately, I have the perfect thing.

“Come here.”

I expected him to pull away—but he followed quietly. Inside my room, I retrieved the orange I’d prepared and held it up to his face.

He blinked as though waking from a dream.

“You didn’t get to eat properly earlier, right?”

He stared at the orange for a long time before speaking.

“What is this?”

“Oh, this is a fruit called an orange—brought from the Western—”

“I meant, why give this to me.”

“You said you dislike grapes.”

“…Is this kindness given in hopes I will stand at your side?”

“No?”

It was just an orange—why was he reading philosophy into it?

“I’m giving it because it’s delicious.”

He stared blankly—then let out a small, breathy laugh.

Whether it was a laugh or disbelief, I couldn’t tell—but air definitely escaped his lips.

“You are… difficult, sometimes.”

His fingertips brushed my palm lightly as he accepted the orange. A faint tremor danced across my skin.

Did it work? Did he accept it?

Heart pounding, I swallowed hard and waited for the verdict.