In his dressing room, Zayden took off his armor. Grabbing a white cloth, he wiped it clean precisely and carefully.
The door opened abruptly, interrupting him. He turned, facing a young man, dressed in a black coat.
"Zion?" His voice low, Zayden hung the armor in the closet, walking towards the man.
His blond hair damp, his breath ragged, he whispered.
"S-Sir, t-trouble—" Zion fell flat on his face before he could finish his sentence.
Zayden narrowed his eyes, studying him from a distance.
Before he could speak, Ren appeared as if summoned by magic.
The servant held Zayden’s sword in his hands. His gaze fell on the man lying on the ground. He didn’t flinch, scream. He simply picked Zion by the arm as if he were the lightest man on earth, dragging him outside the dressing room.
Zayden’s gaze lingered on Ren’s steady hands as he lifted Zion effortlessly. There was a mysterious strength in the way he moved—far beyond what a mere servant should possess.
A soft chuckle escaped Zayden’s lips. Why was he trying to get rid of such a useful servant? For sure, his son calling him papa wasn’t the most pleasing thing, but he knew his place.
He didn’t let his thoughts cloud further and stepped outside the room.
Ren had sat the suspicious man against the wall. He had tied his hands in case he tried to attack the general as soon as he regained consciousness.
However, what bothered him the most was this man’s pheromones. He reeked of them, making Ren’s body stiffen, his stomach turning—nauseous.
He looked at the general who sat on the dark blue couch, crossing his legs, unbothered by the heavy scent hanging in the air.
Does he not feel the alpha pheromones?
He wondered but didn’t dare ask.
"What brings you here?" At least, Zayden asked, his gaze shifting towards Ren from Zion.
"You have forgotten your sword in the garden," he said, reaching for the sword he had placed on the ground before moving Zion from the dressing room earlier.
"Ah," Zayden didn’t show much interest in his words, his mind clouding with questions regarding the message his subordinate wanted to convey.
He repeated the word pronounced by his knight to himself. The options of trouble were far too many to focus on one cause. He sent Zion, his most trusted and right-hand man to investigate Duke Danman’s movements. Even if he wouldn’t attack him, it was safer to keep an eye on him before his next plan. The duke wasn’t a man who gave up easily on what he wanted to get.
"My Lord, should I leave?" Ren hesitantly asked, breaking the unbearable silence. He had been dealing with it for the whole day but now that the sun was setting, it weighed on his body.
"Go ahead," he waved his hand, dismissing him.
Ren bowed before walking out of the room. He closed the door behind him.
As he walked through the hallway, he looked behind him—at the general’s door. What if that man attacked him?
But the general was too calm for him to be an enemy... And the guards didn’t stop him.
Ren swallowed hard, recalling the suffocating scent in the room. Returning there wasn’t an option.
He headed to the servants’ quarters. Tonight, Eiran fell asleep without causing any trouble to Mrs. Eden.
"Ren?" Hannah, standing by the window, called.
The young man halted his step, turning toward her.
"Come here," she smiled.
Although unsure of the reason behind her smile, he stepped towards her.
"Are you returning to your room?"
She laughed as if someone had shown her a silly magic trick.
He looked at her, his eyes narrowed in confusion.
"You truly don’t talk much."
Ren did not reply. He didn’t know what to say. Anything that he could think of would come out rude to his superior. What if it resulted in him losing his job? He couldn’t afford that.
"The lord has been treating you coldly lately, hasn’t he?"
Ren’s eyes widened. How did she know? He hadn’t shared anything to anyone—not even Lilia or Gretel, a servant whom he befriended a few months ago.
"Do not look at me like that," she chuckled. "I have known him for years..." she paused.
She corrected, but not loudly. For a human, a century of existence was already long. In her entire life—five hundred years—she met countless humans. But none could bear the fact that their lives were far too short compared to mystical beings. Often, their envy transformed into jealousy, hatred, which never ended well.
"Don’t look at me like that," she chuckled, snapping out of her thoughts.
"I’ve known him for years... enough to understand how he works." She tilted her head, studying him. "He’s possessive. Doesn’t like sharing what’s his."
"What do you mean? I never—"
Her grin widened, amused by his confusion.
"That child of his—Eiran. He calls you papa, does he not? Zayden will not admit it, but it bothers him. So much that his behaviour towards you has changed."
Ren stiffened. That explanation felt strange... yet strangely logical.
"Why would it bother him? I’m not—" He stopped himself, biting back the words. For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to loudly claim that Eiran had nothing to do with him.
Hannah leaned closer, her voice dropping to a murmur.
"Because in his eyes, no one else should be more important to his son than him. Especially not a servant."
For a moment, Ren didn’t know what to say. His mind drifted back to the general’s lingering gaze earlier, to the way he’d dismissed him without much thought... and yet had never truly let him out of sight. He kept him around although his attitude had grown oddly cold overnight.
But did everything happen over the course of a night? Or was it a grudge building within him over the past few months?
She turned back to the window, as if the conversation had already ended.
"Just... do your job properly. The child will soon understand the customs of the world and how it works... even if it can be cruel."
"You mean to destroy his innocence..." Ren muttered, his voice low.