Fallen General's Omega (BL)
Chapter 80: Hello father

Chapter 80: Hello father

I stand in front of the cell, feeling a sense of calm wash over me as I watch the broken man behind the bars. My father—or whatever I’m supposed to call him now—stares at me with hollow, lifeless eyes. The *great* Duke Robbens, stripped of his title and power, now nothing more than a caged animal awaiting his fate. I step forward, letting the flickering torchlight illuminate my face, and his gaze sharpens, flickering with recognition. His fury is palpable.

"How could you do this to me?!" he roars, gripping the bars with white-knuckled hands, shaking them as though he could break free through sheer force of will. "I gave you everything! You ungrateful bastard!"

I can’t help the smile that curls at the corners of my lips. Amused. Detached. With a flick of my hand, a chair slides across the stone floor toward me, scraping against the cold stone as I take a seat. My hands rest atop my cane, and I lean forward slightly, studying him with the kind of curiosity one might reserve for an insect struggling underfoot.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," I say, my voice soft, almost gentle. I savor the way his face twists with rage, his fists slamming against the iron bars in a desperate, futile display. His fall had been hasty in the end, but I’d always imagined dragging it out, watching him crumble piece by piece as I slowly dismantled everything he held dear. I could’ve finished him years ago—I’d had all the evidence I needed. But killing him outright would’ve been far too kind. No, I wanted him to fall, not as a noble Duke, but as the pathetic, groveling man he truly was. How unfortunate.

Looking at him now, with those vaguely familiar features I see in the mirror every day, I feel...nothing. There’s no hatred. No lingering desire for revenge. Just emptiness. A big hole of nothing.

I think back to when I was ten, that day my mother dragged me to his grand estate, full of hope that maybe, just maybe, he would accept me. I was so young, so desperate for something more than the filth of the brothel streets I grew up in. The massive house loomed over me like a monster, its grandeur both terrifying and alluring. I had been so excited, so full of hope. What a fool I was.

I scoff internally. That hope had been crushed so quickly. The next four years with him had been just as miserable as the back alleys I’d come from—maybe even worse. At least in the brothel, I hadn’t had expectations. By the time I was fourteen, I had already run off to the battlefield, anything to escape the suffocating emptiness of his home.

"How dare you..." His voice brings me back to the present, and I glance at him, half-listening as he babbles on about noble bloodlines and betrayal. His voice rises in a crescendo of rage and indignation, but all I feel is boredom. Was this supposed to give me closure? Was I supposed to feel something? Regret? Relief?

I stifle a yawn, my thoughts drifting to Noelle. I’d rather be in his arms, away from all this meaningless noise.

"I should’ve listened to her," Robbens spits, his voice suddenly venomous. "I should’ve had you killed along with that whore of a mother of yours! You bastard! How dare you bite the hand that feeds you?!"

The words hang in the air for a moment, and I tilt my head, amused. The old man had finally decided to show his true colors. There it was—his hatred for me laid bare.

"Now, now," I say, voice calm, almost patronizing. "Let’s not spread lies, father. Let’s get the timeline right, shall we? My ’whore of a mother’ raised me on the red lantern district for ten years. You only fed me for four. And let’s be honest, I left for the battlefield at fourteen because even that was preferable to staying in your gilded cage."

His glare could have set the whole room ablaze. I smile wider, enjoying the way his fury ripples through him, barely contained.

"Please," I add, leaning back in the chair. "The little game you played with Seraphina’s heart, the money you swindled from my businesses on your businesses—three years of leeching off me must’ve repaid those four years of expenses tenfold. Or are you saying it wasn’t enough?"

"Bastard!" he screams, pounding the bars with his fists again, but the insult falls flat. How unoriginal.

"Yes, yes, I know," I respond, waving him off as if brushing away an annoying insect. "I’m a bastard. You’ve made that abundantly clear."

I lean forward, resting my chin on my hands, eyes narrowing as I look at him, the real reason for my visit bubbling to the surface.

"The truth is," I begin, my voice dropping to a whisper, "I’m not here to gloat, father. Gloating would imply that you’re worth my time, and frankly, I have far better things to do."

His eyes narrow, but I can see the uncertainty creeping into his expression. He’s wondering why I’m here, what I want.

"I’m here out of curiosity, you see." I tap my fingers on the cane, a slow, rhythmic sound that echoes in the small space. "Curiosity about the lengths you were willing to go."

His face hardens, but I continue before he can speak.

"I knew you were a heartless bastard," I say, my tone almost conversational. "But Voidrot? Really? That’s quite the vicious method, isn’t it? You didn’t just want me dead. You wanted me gone in the most painful, drawn-out way possible. Despair. Agony. Isolation."

For a brief moment, something flickers in his eyes—guilt, maybe? But then it’s gone, replaced by the same cold defiance I’ve always known.

"I...I had no choice," he stammers. "The Crown Prince, he put me up to it. I never wanted to—"

I burst out laughing, cutting him off. It’s a deep, genuine laugh, one that echoes off the walls, filling the room with a sound so foreign to me it almost feels strange.

"Oh, spare me," I say, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye. "The Crown Prince made you do it? You expect me to believe that?"

He glares at me, lips pressed into a thin line. "Despite everything," he whispers, his voice hoarse, "I still love you."

I raise an eyebrow. "Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?" I ask, shaking my head. "I’m not angry, father. I’m really not."

His disbelief is almost palpable. He stares at me like I’ve gone mad.

"I mean it," I continue, my voice calm and measured. "Because in all of your twisted plans, in all the pain you tried to inflict on me, you failed and succeeded. You see, it’s because of your betrayal that I met him—my star, my beloved. I would go through all that suffering again just to find him at the end."

"You’re doing all of this because of an omega?!" His voice cracks, a mix of disbelief and anger warping his words as they echo off the stone walls of the cell. His fists clench the bars, the veins in his hands popping as his fury reaches a fever pitch.

I tilt my head slightly, a slow, amused smile tugging at my lips. His outrage is... entertaining. "I know, I know. Shocking, isn’t it?" I lean back in my chair, feigning nonchalance as I cross one leg over the other. "What can I say? I’m a henpecked husband now. A sucker for those green eyes and that fiery temper."

His face contorts further, disbelief turning into something uglier. "You’re mad. Truly mad. All of this for—"

I cut him off before he can continue that tiresome rant. "For my beloved," I emphasize, letting the words sink in. "You see, father," I say the word like it’s a joke, "when you made him cry, you signed your own death warrant." My eyes harden, and I watch with satisfaction as a flicker of fear crosses his face. "You took the most precious thing from me. It’s only right that I take everything from you in return."

He opens his mouth to scream again, his face red with fury, but all that comes out is a jumble of unintelligible words, a rabid mess of rage. Pathetic.

I yawn, not even bothering to hide my boredom. "I’m really not sorry, you know. Someone had to be the example. It just happens to be you. My beloved always said you have to pull the weeds out from the root, or they’ll just grow back stronger. And you, dear father, are nothing more than a particularly stubborn weed."

I stand, planting my cane on the ground with a solid thud as I stretch lazily. "Anyway, I think that’s enough bonding time for today. I’d say we’ll have more of these heart-to-hearts, but... well," I pause, looking him over with something akin to pity, "you’ll probably be dead before we get the chance."

Robbens sputters, eyes wide as his hands grip the bars even tighter. "W-what? What do you mean?"

I shrug casually. "Oh, you know... once you leave the capital, all kinds of accidents can happen. Angry royals, people wanting to silence you, commoners out for revenge... really, you should have lived a bit more quietly. Kept your head down, perhaps."

His face drains of color, realization finally dawning on him. "You... you planned this—"

"Oh, no," I cut him off with a wave of my hand, a mocking grin spreading across my face. "I didn’t have to plan anything. You see, you’ve made enough enemies on your own, father. I’m just... speeding up the inevitable."

His knees buckle slightly, the rage melting away into sheer terror. He knows it now, knows that the end is near. But the best part? There’s nothing he can do to stop it.

"Well, good chat, Robbens. Let’s not pretend we’ll miss each other." I give him one last glance before turning on my heel and walking out of the dimly lit dungeon.