The Villain Is My Sweetheart! [BL]

"Marco…"

Mr. De Moda arrived at the De Vilan mansion, his ten-year-old son following closely behind. A longtime business partner and friend of Adam, his visit was routine—nothing out of the ordinary.

As they walked through the grand hall toward the living room, Mr. De Moda turned to Marco with a firm yet gentle tone. "You remember the deal, right? Be polite. Be friendly. And most importantly—no trouble this time."

Marco scoffed, clearly uninterested. "Really, Dad? You want me to be friends with that crybaby? That loser?"

His father shot him a stern look.

Marco rolled his eyes dramatically. "Fine, fine. No trouble. Happy?"

Satisfied—though not entirely convinced—Mr. De Moda nodded, continuing toward the living room as Adam appeared to greet them.

The two men exchanged pleasantries, settling in comfortably as they sipped refreshments and engaged in light conversation.

...

Meanwhile, in Aryan's room

The sound of running water filled the small space as Aryan showered.

Eron stirred awake, blinking in confusion. His eyes darted around, searching for someone. But the boy from yesterday—the one who had given him warmth, a feeling he thought he would never experience—was gone.

Had it all been a dream?

For as long as he could remember, the world had been cold and unkind to him. No one had ever cared. No one had ever stayed. But yesterday, for the first time, someone had shown him kindness. And now, the thought that it might have been an illusion made his chest tighten painfully.

Then, a voice cut through his thoughts.

"Are you a crybaby or something?"

Startled, Eron turned toward the voice. And there he was.

"Aryan..."

A rush of relief and joy overwhelmed him. Without thinking, he threw his arms around him, holding on tightly.

...

Aryan's POV

Did I just get hugged?

I blinked, taken aback. One minute, I was drying my hair after my shower, and the next, Eron had latched onto me like I'd just returned from war.

"What in the world happened while I was bathing?" I muttered under my breath. But, well… whatever. Let's just go with it.

"Where did you go?" Eron sniffled, rubbing at his damp eyes. "I thought you weren't coming back…"

"The bathroom," I replied, raising a brow. "What, did you start missing me already?" I teased, rubbing the towel over my hair.

He didn't answer, but his eyes spoke for him.

"How about you take a shower?" I suggested. "We need to go downstairs for breakfast."

As Eron headed into the bathroom, a sudden knock echoed through the room. I frowned, walking over to open the door.

Standing there was a black-haired boy about my age, his hands shoved into his pockets, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Just as I thought—you were hiding in your room."

Before I could react, he pushed past me, stepping inside uninvited.

I grabbed his collar, pulling him back. "And who the hell are you?"

"Who, me?" He pointed to himself with mock innocence.

I narrowed my eyes. "You see anyone else here besides us?"

The boy let out a short laugh. "Still got that attitude, huh? Did you forget what happened last time?" His smirk twisted into something smug, almost daring me to react.

I scoffed. "Do you have some kind of grudge against me, or are you just naturally annoying?"

"Don't act tough. You'll never be my friend." He tilted his head, looking me up and down. "Marco doesn't accept weaklings."

I crossed my arms. "Well, lucky for you, I have no interest in being your friend either."

Marco's smirk deepened. "Really now?" Without warning, he swung his fist toward me—but stopped just inches from my face.

"Did I scare you?" he taunted.

I didn't flinch. Instead, I stepped back, lifting my leg and delivering a swift, precise kick that stopped right before his face. The sheer force of it sent him stumbling backward, landing flat on the floor.

The bathroom door creaked open.

Eron stepped out, blinking at the scene before him. His damp hair clung to his forehead as he took in the sight of Marco on the floor and me standing over him, still in position.

I quickly retracted my leg and flashed a wide grin.

"Quit the act. Get up already." I extended my hand toward Marco, my grip firm but not unfriendly.

Marco hesitated, then took my hand begrudgingly.

"Eron, this is Marco. My… friend." I shot Marco a knowing look as I clapped a hand on his shoulder, squeezing just enough to make my point clear. "Smile."

Marco scowled but forced a stiff, half-hearted grin.

"You didn't dry your hair properly." Seeing water dripping from Eron's hair, I went towards him, grabbed the towel and started drying his hair.

Marco watched with narrowed eyes. "Who's this?" he asked, his tone laced with curiosity.

I shrugged. "My little brother."

Marco scoffed. "Don't joke. You guys don't even lo—" The sharp look I shot him, shut him up before he could finish. 

"How about we get something to eat? Come on." I took Eron's hand and led him out of the room. Marco followed along—without an invitation, of course.

At the dining table, just as I was about to take my first bite, Marco threw in another comment.

"Didn't anyone teach your brother table manners? Look at how he's eating."

Eron froze, his hand gripping the pancake mid-air. His face fell, and he quietly lowered his head, visibly embarrassed.

I set my fork and knife down deliberately and picked up my food with my hands instead. "He's a kid. There's no shame in not knowing everything yet. And besides, this is our home. Why should we care about formalities?"

Turning to Eron, I added, "Don't waste your time on people who only know how to run their mouths."

"You—" Marco started, but he didn't finish.

Not long after, he left with his dad. I had no doubt I had landed myself on his bad side, but did I care? What could some nameless extra do to me?

However, after such insults then on Marco became a regular visitor in our home. He was annoying as ever but still it wasn't bored to be with him. Also, Eron begin to get along as well.

But life won't move so peacefully as expects, some twists come sooner than expected. 

Lisa had agreed to Adam's request to let Eron stay—but under strict conditions. Eron was to keep his distance from the family, especially from me. He had to address Adam and Lisa as 'Sir' and 'Madam.' And as if to make things perfectly clear, they arranged his room near the servants' quarters. To show others, he was nothing more than a servant to them.

That night Eron transferred to his new room.

"Achoo!" I sneezed as I stepped inside. "Is this where they put you?"

I had sneaked over to check on Eron, but I wasn't expecting… this. The room was tiny—barely half the size of my own bedroom—and covered in dust, as if it had been abandoned for years. Not a single maid had come to clean.

"Young master…" Eron's voice was soft as he noticed me.

I frowned. "Young master? Me?"

"The butler uncle told me to call you that," he explained.

"That's for when other people are around. When we're alone, just call me like before. I'd rather hear 'brother' than 'young master.' So, go on."

Eron hesitated but eventually gave in.

I glanced around. "How are you supposed to sleep in this place? It's disgusting. Come on, I'll help you clean."

He tried to refuse, but did I look like someone who backs down?

We started cleaning together, but luck wasn't on our side. Just as we were finishing up, Lisa appeared at the door—her sharp gaze locking onto the scene like a hawk spotting its prey.

That moment, I knew we are in big trouble.