The Married Alpha Who Refuses to Be a Heartthrob (A/B/O · Alpha POV) - Chapter 6

“Oh my God — is that the actual Governor?!” someone swooped in through the window.

It was Vansen, Keith’s best friend.

Vansen floated on a trick of sorcery and landed lightly in front of the sofa, blinking to make sure he was not hallucinating. “What wind blew the Governor into our home? I’m Vansen. Former clergy, now a carefree warlock.”

He looked… theatrical. A brown robe with a hood, black curls spilling from beneath, a flash of chest exposed like a scandal in fabric, lace gloves at his wrists, heavy makeup and vividly red lips. He had the kind of flamboyant, slightly vampiric glamour that made people do a double-take.

The overall impression: decidedly unholy.

Kaes looked him over, then glanced back at Keith, who stood beside him in his crisp white shirt and waistcoat. These two are friends? The pair made no sense—so different, yet friends.

“You used to be clergy?” Kaes asked. He couldn’t imagine this showy man ever serving at a holy altar.

“Yes, Governor. I was a bishop—my master is the current Pope,” Vansen said with a smile that showed teeth. “The church bored me; chanting all day is mind-numbing. So I ran off to be a warlock. Turns out it pays, and I don’t have to wear those bloated robes anymore.”

Freedom, apparently, meant lace gloves and dramatic eye shadow.

“Vansen, you’re finally back.” Keith hurried over with visible relief, taking the bags out of his friend’s hands. “I invited the Governor today. After dinner we’ll prepare the medicine and test it on him.”

“Please wait here a moment, Governor,” Keith said, turning to Kaes. “We’ll go sort out the ingredients.”

The two disappeared into the back room.

Kaes watched their retreating figures. Keith was shorter, tidy and soft-spoken; Vansen, by contrast, tall and striking—almost Alpha-like in build, face powdered pale enough to rival the wall, an almost theatrical vampire silhouette.

And yet Keith hasn’t turned chaotic hanging around that guy? That’s impressive.

He hesitated but Kaes considered helping. They’d been running themselves ragged trying to heal his eye; the least he could do was be useful.

As he approached the potion room, the door was ajar. Voices drifted out.

Vansen: “You’ve already invited him to your house—when are you moving into the Governor’s mansion?”

Keith: “Why would I move there?”

Vansen: “To be the Governor’s wife, obviously. Didn’t you say you wanted an S-rank or higher gunman? And handsome, too? He’s perfect! You can’t even bear children, so stop being picky and just marry him.”

Keith: “Stop it. Aunt wrote me again—she wants to set me up with Aither. It’s terrifying.”

Vansen: “Ugh, that white-haired zombie? Total waste of an SSS rank and a rare class. Handsome, sure, but useless. Forget him. I actually like the Governor.”

Kaes froze & felt something twinge in his chest. He and Aither were the same rank. He understood the Queen’s bias—Keith was her nephew. So the Queen’s trying to pair Keith with Aither, huh?

He and Aither were both SSS-ranked, but the Queen’s favoritism toward her nephew’s cousin was obvious.

[System: “My lord, Aither has a special weapon granted by the Queen. Only three people in the Empire own enchanted weapons—the Queen, her sister, and Aither.”]

Kaes: “How much does enchantment boost performance?”

[System: “A flat 200% enhancement. The higher the user’s base attack, the greater the effect. Only three people in the empire have enchanted arms: the Queen, her sister, and Aither. Without enchantment, special weapons are no better than ordinary ones.”]

Kaes: “And the Pope?”

[System: “Support classes don’t need enchantments. A plain staff works fine.”]

Support classes—always the thriftiest and hardest to kill, no matter the world.

Kaes frowned. This world’s power structure is such a mess. The church controlled buff-type magic, the Queen controlled weapon enchantments, and every enhancement required royal approval.

Sure, anyone could study magic at an academy, but under the Queen’s monopoly, pure damage-dealers had no future unless they joined the Church—or were born royal.

Aither got the Queen’s favor and a shiny toy, while the rest of us are stuck with whiteboards. Maybe that’s their idea of “balance.”

[System: “The princes have special weapons too, but plain ones. The Queen thinks giving magic-users enchanted weapons is a waste—they have low base damage anyway.”]

Double standards, much?

No matter how many buffs you stacked, your attack ceiling stayed low.
Equality through shared misery, Kaes thought bitterly.

He returned to the living room before the two emerged.

Later, they all gathered in the kitchen.

Kaes immediately noticed something was off. Though spotless, the kitchen shelves were crowded with bottles and jars that looked straight out of a laboratory.

The cooking pot… was a cauldron.

Keith pulled out a bag of meat. “Let’s have beef tonight?”

“I’m fine with anything,” Kaes said—and regretted it seconds later.

Vansen opened what looked like a magic grimoire of recipes, which hovered over the cauldron as the two began to “cook.”

They tossed in beef, water, and then—blue liquid from a glass vial.

The water turned bright blue and started bubbling violently.

Then came a bottle of green liquid.

Now the contents shimmered green.

Kaes stared, speechless. This isn’t cooking. This is alchemy.

Dinner ended up being a spread of rainbow-colored dishes. Bread with… whatever those were. True Western cuisine.

Keith and Vansen ate happily. Kaes, however, hesitated to touch his fork.

“Not hungry, Governor?” Keith asked.

Kaes eyed the suspiciously green beef. If I die, I’m haunting them both.

“Vansen’s a great cook,” Keith assured him.

“Mm-hmm,” Vansen hummed smugly.

Seeing them eat without keeling over, Kaes cautiously cut into the beef. Even the inside was green.

He took a bite. To his shock—it was good. Frighteningly good.
I must be under a wizard’s spell, he thought grimly.

“Ugh, the Pope keeps summoning me back,” Vansen complained mid-meal. “So annoying.”

“I thought you left the Church?” Kaes asked, puzzled.

Keith smiled. “He did. But he’s still officially a bishop.”

Vansen propped his chin on his gloved hand, eyes twinkling. “After meeting the real SSS-ranked Governor, I definitely don’t want to go back. It’s such an honor to brew medicine for you.”

“…Why?” Kaes almost choked.

Keith gently tapped Vansen’s shoulder. “Because the Pope is one hundred and ten years old—and still the most powerful cleric on the Bain-Perella Continent. He blesses all SSS-ranked fighters before major campaigns.”

“So the strongest support alive,” Kaes mused.

In this world, supports were eternal; damage dealers, disposable.

Vansen sighed. “Twenty-five years ago, it was Admiral Kael’s era—he’s long dead. Now it’s your time and Aither’s.”

So top DPS all have short shelf lives. Great.

After dinner, Vansen began brewing the potion—tossing in bizarre ingredients, including crow feathers. Kaes prayed it wasn’t for drinking.

Meanwhile, Keith searched for his pet. ““Xiaolu? Xiaolu, where are you?””

“Keeek?” chirped the parrot from behind the cabinet. Keith scooped it up. “Time to dress the wing.” “Help! Help!” shrieked Xiaolu, flapping wildly.

“Governor, could you hold it for me?” Keith asked.

Kaes cupped the parrot easily in one hand—it fit perfectly, like a mango. Keith dabbed potion on its wing.

“There, all done. It should heal in a few days.”

Kaes set Xiaolu down. The bird hopped off, chirping indignantly.

Half an hour later, the potion was ready. Keith led Kaes out into the candlelit garden.

“Sit here,” he said softly.

Vansen poured the potion onto a white cloth. “Keep it on for half an hour. No guarantees—it’s tricky magic.” Vansen warned. Restoring sight was never simple.

Keith took the cloth, stepping close. Kaes removed his eyepatch, revealing one dull gray eye beside a vivid blue one that gleamed in the candlelight.

Such beautiful eyes, Keith thought. What a waste that one is blind.

Even if the Governor weren’t his Alpha, helping an SSS regain his sight was something to be proud of.

The warm, potion-soaked cloth covered Kaes’s eye, its scent sharp yet faintly sweet. Keith’s fingers brushed his temple, sweeping aside his curls as he adjusted the edges.

Vansen excused himself quietly, leaving them alone.

Keith stayed, sitting nearby. “I’ll keep watch until time’s up. …Do you think Vansen’s potion will work?”

“I hope so,” Kaes murmured. “He is the Pope’s apprentice, after all.”

Keith smiled faintly. “Then maybe there’s hope.”

Keith smoothed Kaes’s hair again. “I hope you get better,” he murmured. The quiet in the garden folded around them; candlelight warmed the space between.

“You sound like you’re talking to Xiaolu,” Kaes teased, remembering how Keith had bandaged the parrot earlier.

Keith laughed softly. “The Governor has quite a sense of humor. Xiaolu would never sit this still—he’d just scream for help.”

After a while, Kaes cleared his throat. “Could you call me by name? ‘Governor’ feels distant.”

Keith hesitated, then tried: “Governor… Kaes—” He corrected himself. “Kaes.”

“You can drop the ‘Governor’,” Kaes said.

“Alright.” Keith stood, then paused. “I’ll be right back, Kaes.”

Going where? Kaes nearly reached out instinctively, stopping himself just in time.

Keith returned moments later, footsteps quiet. The potion’s aroma made Kaes drowsy; only the occasional breeze kept him awake.

Neither spoke.

Then—

“Caw, caw, caw!”

Xiaolu hopped over, chirping in its clipped, high-pitched voice: “Kiss, what are you doing?”

To be honest, Kaes—blindfolded under the warm cloth—was wondering the same thing.

It was… a strangely intimate silence.

“I’m reading,” Keith answered in the same lilt as the bird, flipping a page with a soft rustle.

To Kaes, it sounded like a parody of Xiaolu’s chirpy tone—half nasal, half playful.

A mage with a high-pitched voice, he thought, amused.

And then, to his horror, he realized—

He actually found it cute.

Like the parrot.

That dangerous idea was ridiculous and oddly…endearing. It echoed through his mind again and again—until he wasn’t sure whether it was the potion’s magic or his own heart that was starting to burn.