When I Finished Playing the Terminally-Ill Villainous Omega C15

Chapter 15

I quickly dropped my gaze.

Locke leaned in again, lowering his face to my nape. His thick, dark lashes nearly brushed my skin. A shiver crawled up my spine, and an odd tension gathered low in my abdomen.

The tip of his high, straight nose skimmed the back of my neck. My shoulders flinched sharply. Maybe I’d sat too close to the fire; my face had been burning for a while now. His hand gripping my shoulder kept me from scooting away. All I could do was endure it.

Just as I couldn’t take the heat anymore and my body began to fidget, he finally spoke.

“It is pheromones.”

“…Really?”

“If you weren’t going to believe me, why ask?”

“No, I believe you. It’s just—don’t you sound… colder? Than before?”

“…I’ve always spoken this way.”

“No, you were a little warmer before. Kinder.”

I muttered irritably and turned away.

Why did it manifest this early?

Even if the story changed because I mucked around in it, manifestation was driven by hormones. In my previous life, mine had awakened only after Locke dragged me by the hair into the Imperial Palace. It was only when he told me to get rid of that sickening grape stench that I realized what had happened. After suffering through several manifestation fevers, I became a dominant Omega.

Not long after that—I died.

Pain and fever had always been part of my daily life. So I had assumed the aches today were nothing but a feverish cold. It never crossed my mind that my manifestation would arrive early.

“It’s not time for me to manifest yet…”

“There’s a ‘time’ for it?”

Apparently, I had spoken aloud.

“That was me thinking to myself.”

“Your voice was loud enough that I thought you meant to whisper into my ear.”

I almost snapped back at that tone again, but held it in—didn’t want to sound like some cranky old noble. Instead, another question popped up.

“But wait, Locke. If you can feel my pheromones… that means you’re a trait-bearer too, right? Why didn’t you tell me you’d manifested?”

In the previous life, Locke had never manifested while living in the estate—as far as I knew.

But hiding it was entirely possible. The mansion had no other trait-bearers. During rut season, he could easily feign illness and pass as a Beta. In fact, he had been bedridden three or four times, supposedly from illness. If he had reasons to keep it hidden, then hiding it until the very end made sense.

But this time, Locke had chosen to tell me.

Was it because he planned to leave the estate?

Or because he wanted me to know I had manifested?

I genuinely wanted to know.

“You seem very interested in my private matters, young master.”

“…Huh?”

“If you want to inquire about my preferences in bed as well, should I prepare my answers in advance?”

I shut my mouth hard. I’d asked out of pure curiosity, but he—as always—had to make it sound indecent. A warning not to pry further.

Feeling slighted, I kept quiet and stared at the cave wall. Then:

“Your scent is thickening. Manifestation fever will start soon. Return before it gets worse.”

I tugged my sleeve up and rubbed the back of my neck. When I brought it to my nose, I could indeed smell a faint grape-like sweetness. If I could detect it myself, it meant the first hit was about to strike.

This was bad.

“The first hit is always accompanied by a deep kiss.”

A saying of this era. Metaphorically, it meant events always paid their dues. Literally… well, a kiss could resolve the first hit.

In other circumstances, that would be a relief.

In mine? Absolutely not.

I glanced at his back as he busied himself with something by the fire.

It was just me and the man who, in another life, had killed me. And he had been the victim of my torment. If I needed a kiss to survive the hit, I’d rather go out and grab a passerby. Anyone else would make more sense than him.

So my only option was to return to the mansion.

I sighed—when Locke suddenly slammed a rock onto the mana stone embedded in my dagger.

CRACK.

Blue shards scattered like glass.

Had he gone mad?

He could sell that for hundreds of gold. Why smash it?

Wait—he had been holding a blade with a red mana stone earlier…

Don’t tell me…

That wasn’t his sword.

That was mine—the dagger Aiden gifted me.

The one that blew a monster apart.

“Hey! That’s mine! Why did you—”

I froze.

The mana stone’s low hardness told me the truth: it was a low-grade stone. The monster I had slain was just extremely weak. Nothing but a bulky creature with barely enough power to scare a child.

A long-delayed realization made my jaw hang open.

He reached into his pocket and fitted a different mana stone onto the empty slot—this one shimmering like a pale amethyst diamond, delicate yet vividly powerful. Even a layperson could tell it was superior to the one he’d shattered.

Locke tossed the dagger back to me. I fumbled to catch it as he scooped the shattered blue fragments and threw them into the fire.

“This will serve you better than the trash you carried around earlier.”

“Trash? That ‘trash’ made that monster explode! You didn’t see—”

“…Perhaps its body was full of gas.”

“You know you’re being really rude, right?!”

“In any case, that stone was decorative at best. A count’s son should not wield such cheap items.”

He prepared to leave, but I caught his sleeve. A sudden heaviness sat at the back of my throat.

“Are you… really not returning to the mansion? Is this it for us?”

“You tormented me for years, and now you’re regretful that I’m leaving?”

“…Yeah. I am.”

His eyes flickered—just briefly.

It wasn’t fear of death that made me hold onto him. It was something lonelier:

If Locke left, Cedric—I—would truly be alone.

Anna was kind, but she was Cassian’s person. I couldn’t fully trust the maids or the other servants. The only person I could speak freely with… was Locke.

If he walked away now, I might not see him for years. Maybe never again.

So I tried to be honest. Truly honest.

“Mother said Cartelgia’s special biscuits will be delivered soon. They’re delicious. I wanted to share them with you. And when I heard you picked up the academy books your sister threw out, I thought… when Father returns, I should ask him to send you to the Academy.”

“Servants cannot attend class. I took the books as firewood.”

“Nobles can bring one attendant. Attendants get the chance to learn too. Don’t you want to study magic? Even a little?”

He didn’t answer—but the faint shift in his posture told me he was listening.

“What about swimming in the creek in front of the mansion? Or picking fruit in the mountains? I’ve never done anything like that. I never had anyone to go with.”

Locke didn’t look at me. Only the crackling fire and the whisper of wind filled the cave.

I continued softly—earnestly.

“Most of all… I want to apologize properly. I want to treat you well. So please—give me a month. Or just a week. Even three days. Just… give us a chance. Even as friends.”

A sharp pain lanced through my chest.

The manifestation fever was beginning. My breaths quickened.

“J-just… a week. If that’s too much… even three days. As… friends…”

A violent spasm seized my heart.

The agony was like being stabbed between my ribs, again and again.

I’m going to die—!

It rivaled the penalty of losing a heart.

Why now? Why during the most important conversation of my life?

“I—I want… to… be f-friends—hic—!”

“Stop talking.”

Every breath felt like knives tearing into my lungs. I clutched my chest, vision blurring as I gasped for air that refused to come.

When my legs buckled, a warm arm caught me.

“…Truly, you’re such a troublesome person.”

He tilted my chin gently upward. My vision flickered, white noise ringing in my ears.

Then—cold fingers pressed between my lips, pushing down on my tongue, forcing open my airway.

“Exhale. If you don’t, you’ll die.”

—————————————————–

Cedric: “Let’s be friends.”

Manifestation fever: “Bestie I’m about to END your whole career.” 

Also Locke, casually smashing an expensive mana stone:

Cedric: “That was a GIFT.”

Locke: “It was garbage.”

Sir, please don’t Marie Kondo my weaponry like this.

 

And the moment of the night

Locke: “You’re leaking pheromones.”

Cedric: “I—It’s the fireplace, actually.”

Bro, that is not the scent of burning wood. That is romantic plot progression.