In Eiran’s study room, Celine continued her class for another hour.
"And so, you need to always make sure you have control over your powers, Young Master," Celine finished, inscribing the last spell on the board.
She stretched her arm before setting the marker down. She turned—and froze.
The young master was slumped over the desk, his silver hair hiding his face entirely. They weren’t long enough to hide his complexion.
Her heart skipped a beat.
"Young Master...?" she whispered, stepping closer.
Is it one of his tricks again?
Wondering, she called louder.
"Young Master? You win, I lose, alright?"
Silence answered her once again.
She repeatedly shouted his name but the boy did not move. Her voice had turned hoarse and with shaking hands, she lifted his head—half-expecting a prank.
Her breath caught. His forehead burned under her fingers, scorching hot.
"Oh no... Young Master!" she gasped, panic overwhelming. She bolted from the room, scanning the hallway desperately, trying to find some to call for help.
Spotting a guard, she ran to him.
"Sir! Please—someone must help the Young Lord! He has a fever—he’s burning up! And I don’t think I can bring him to his chambers..."
The guard’s eyes widened, frozen for a moment. The young master hadn’t gotten sick all these months. And suddenly—
Celine shook him, snapping him out of his thoughts.
"Ah! Yes," he nodded, spinning on his heels, his figure disappearing down the corridor.
Celine pressed her hand on her chest, letting out a brief sigh of relief. Help was on the way.
Yet, every second dragged on endlessly, fear overflowing as to what might happen if assistance didn’t arrive immediately.
"The general will murder me!.." She grumbled, returning to the study hall by Eiran’s side in case he had regained consciousness during her absence.
When Ren heard of Eiran’s condition, he couldn’t help but rush towards the young boy’s bedchamber.
He had been heading toward the kitchen to finally have lunch after arranging the general’s clothes when he caught the hushed voices of maids whispering about the young lord’s fever. He never paid attention to such gossip. However, the name they mentioned was Eiran’s and he couldn’t turn a blind eye to that.
He stopped them, demanding an explanation.
The maids exchanged a hesitant look, as if wondering whether to tell him or not. Hannah did instruct them to keep it among themselves as it could cause chaos in the mansion if every servant began to get involved, none focusing on their duty.
"It is my duty to take care of the young master. I need to know what is going on," he said firmly.
Only then, she decided to speak.
Ren’s eyes widened when he learned that the child had collapsed during his classes. Without wasting a second more, he dashed toward Eiran’s quarters.
Once he reached the boy’s room—the door flung wide open, only a few servants inside, panicking as they rushed in and out—Ren saw him.
The child lay on the bed, his body limp, his pale skin flushed dark red, as if scorched under a cruel sun. As if a pure blooded vampire who hid from sunlight.
An elderly man, with wrinkles at the edge of his eyes and lips, dressed in a dark red cloak, checked his pulse again and again, pushing up his glasses with the other hand. His frown deepened the more he studied the boy’s condition.
A mere fever shouldn’t drive the general’s son to unconsciousness... How could it be?
"What is going on?" Ren walked beside the physician, asking with a sharp voice.
All eyes turned toward him, as if he didn’t belong here. Like he shouldn’t have been here in the first place.
"He has a fever, it seems," Hannah said carefully as she stepped closer to Ren.
Something in Ren had shifted, though she couldn’t say what. His gaze held no trace of emptiness now. It was filled with something she couldn’t quite name.
"Where is the teacher? She was supposed to watch over him." Ren’s words pressed through clenched teeth, barely restrained from a shout. He hadn’t noticed Hannah at all. His mind only focused on one person—Eiran.
"S-She left," one maid stammered.
Instantly, she gasped at her own voice, startled by her fear. Why was she panicking? This was the man almost every servant in the mansion bullied... So why did he suddenly radiate such an overwhelming aura? She felt possessed, barely able to hold back the urge to answer him.
Hannah glanced between the maid and Ren, then inhaled slowly.
"You can stay with him, Ren. Some of the maids will assist you... I need to return to my duty, unfortunately. The general will return soon and I need to hand over an urgent report." She gently tapped his shoulder twice.
Ren barely heard her. The thought of leaving this room had never crossed his mind. Even if she had asked him to, he wouldn’t have.
Without delay, he sat on the mattress beside Eiran. The boy—usually so bright-eyed and sweet spoken—was now drenched in sweat. Only soft groans of pain escaped his mouth.
A few servants slipped out, their footsteps fading into silence, while another few remained along with the physician, standing stiffly at his side.
"Is it just a fever?" Ren asked at last, running his fingers through the boy’s damp hair.
"Yes... I believe so."
Ren’s eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, I believe? You’re a physician, are you not?" His voice rose sharper than intended.
"I don’t care." Ren’s tone cracked low. "He needs to be fine."
The physician dipped his head quickly.
Why is this man acting as if he were the young master’s father?
This isn’t the moment to judge anyone.
"I will prepare medicine to reduce the fever at once."
With that, the elderly man hurried outside the room, leaving only Ren and three maids at Eiran’s side.
Ren clasped the boy’s hand in his firmly, staring at his unnaturally pale face. He looked like a ghost—drained of sunlight. A fragile creature who belonged only to the dark.
Whenever Eiran tried to hold Ren, he would avoid it. He would find excuses to let go. Yet this time, he was the one who couldn’t let go.