"Ren?" A familiar voice called, footsteps slowly approaching.
When Ren turned, he found a young man about his height.
Paul. One of the general’s attendants, standing there.
Ren tightened his jaw, forcing his composure.
"Do you know where the general is? I need to deliver him a letter that has just arrived. It’s urgent." He raised the envelope in his hand.
"Audience room," Ren replied, releasing a soft breath of relief.
Paul was a young vampire who had only recently become one of the general’s attendants. Before that, he had worked in the kitchen, and at some point, in the garden.
"Are you heading there as well?" Paul asked, grinning brightly.
"No... I need to fetch water for the lord."
"Then... I’ll accompany you!"
"It will take me some time."
Rather, the general would take some time to finish his conversation with James. Ren didn’t correct himself out loud.
"It’s fine! The general gets a lot of these letters from omegas. He barely cares," Paul sighed.
"He doesn’t care?" Ren narrowed his eyes, confused.
The secret James revealed had painted the general as a man desperate to be kind.
How could that be, when he was surrounded by demonic strings that only appeared if he had killed people? Or if he was cursed?
"I mean... It’s complicated, and I don’t have many details," Paul said, scratching his cheek. "But let’s go get some fresh water for the general!" He tugged Ren along by the hand.
Normally, Ren would have swatted the grip away. But he couldn’t.
Paul was kind to him. So were the general’s other attendants—unlike the other servants of the mansion. They always paid attention to their tone, their words, their behavior, even when the general wasn’t around. They respected Ren. Yet, he told himself he wasn’t worthy of such kindness.
"Whoever is kind to you is bound to suffer all your misfortunes," a voice resonated in his mind.
And yet, sometimes, he grew greedy and let them treat him kindly.
"What were you doing in the audience room? I rarely ever saw the general meet anyone there," Paul asked, glancing at Ren as they walked through the hallway.
Diana’s revelation suddenly resurfaced in Ren’s mind—the general was actually the second imperial prince of Revahara.
"Did you know... the general is the second imperial prince?" He hesitantly asked. He didn’t know if he was allowed to reveal this. Though, it didn’t seem as if the general tried to hide it.
"Wait—don’t tell me you only just found out today?!" He gasped loudly, enough to echo.
Is it really that shocking?
Ren blinked, wondering.
"No way! Despite being the closest to my lord, you haven’t heard anyone call him Your Imperial Highness?"
Ren shook his head. At most, he had noticed people hesitate at Your... before quickly finishing with My Lord.
"So it’s true..." Paul nodded in agreement with himself.
"The general forbade everyone from calling him that after an incident. But I don’t know the details. I wasn’t around back then."
Although a little intrigued, Ren didn’t press. Paul, however, began explaining parts of Revahara’s history that Ren had never read in the library.
Dragons—mystical beings with supernatural abilities—had once been revered as Gods of War. For centuries, they protected their territories and people, burning invaders to ash with their flames. Humans and other beings worshiped them.
But the Temple of Hianshu declared them false gods. Through sermons of fear and dire prophecies, the temple branded dragons as the roots of destruction hiding beneath a mask of protection. Those who followed the temple exiled anyone who opposed them.
Out of the ashes, the Revhara Kingdom was born—a haven for dragons, half-dragons, and outcasts whom the temple would never welcome.
"Back then, the small kingdom of Revhara was ruled by the current emperor for..." Paul began counting on his fingers, only to give up with a laugh. "Well, my math isn’t so good. But he’s the emperor now! He conquered many kingdoms—some through marriages with his closest generals, others through wars against those who sided with Hianshu." Paul grinned sheepishly.
"Oh, dear. I must be boring you with a whole history lecture—things you probably already know."
But Ren was far from bored.
These were truths he hadn’t seen in the torn, censored history books. Whole Chapters had been missing—pages that deliberately avoided mentioning which mystical being the emperor was, as if it had been buried away.
"You are so passionate about this," Ren murmured.
"Is it that obvious?" Paul chuckled, though the smile quickly faded. "I always wanted to study, but... money is everything."
The atmosphere had shifted to something darker, different from Paul’s bright chatter.
"By the way, you smell so good!" Paul exclaimed.
His deliberate attempt to lighten the mood couldn’t have been more obvious.
"...Really?" Ren swallowed hard, instantly sniffing his wrists.
Could it be his pheromones?
"I mean your blood! You’re a human, right? We, vampires, love human blood! You should be more cautious when around me—or any other of my kind," Paul laughed, pushing open the kitchen door. "And here we are," he added, walking into the kitchen.
Ren let out a quiet sigh of relief. But how long could the suppressants hold his symptoms back? Without the ones crafted by the temple specifically for him...
He pressed a hand against his chest.
It was only a matter of time before the general’s suspicions were confirmed. And the banquet was still two months away.
Something cold brushed against his fingers. Ren flinched, looking up. Paul had returned, holding out a glass of water filled with ice cubes.
"My, did I scare you that much with the vampire thing? Don’t worry—we can control ourselves," Paul said with an easy chuckle before striding ahead.
Ren followed after him.
"I was not scared. Just surprised."
Paul tried not to laugh. At times, Ren seemed no different from a child, despite his cold, distant demeanor. The smallest things pricked his curiosity, while even the most shocking ones barely stirred him.
Maria, Paul’s wife, had been the first to approach Ren, befriending him. Soon, the couple began drawing him into their conversations, gently weaving him into the circle of attendants who served the general.
Unlike the other servants, they didn’t shy away from him. Most dreaded spending more time near the general than necessary—he was far too unpredictable. One could never tell when he was joking or serious, and every word around him felt like walking on eggshells.
After weaving through the long hallways, Ren and Paul finally stopped before the audience room. Ren carried the glass of water, while Paul held the envelope.
Ren knocked once, then slowly pushed the door open. It hadn’t been locked.
Inside, James sat on the couch near the bookshelf, absorbed in a book, while the general remained at the table, studying a spread of plans.
Did they not talk while I was gone? Or had they already finished?
"Took you a while to fetch a glass of water," Zayden said, his red gaze flicking upward, a grin tugging at his lips.
As always, Ren couldn’t read that expression. Was it amusement? Or anger, veiled in mockery? He could only guess—perhaps he was mad.