"Bring me some cold water," Ren ordered the maids standing behind him unexpectedly.
Although he had a higher rank than the other staff members, he rarely commanded anyone. He didn’t wish to attract anyone’s attention, which could have led to the temple finding him if words spread outside of the mansion until the capital of Revhara—the City of Jewels.
The maids jumped at his voice. Their eyes narrowed, exchanging a look of confusion.
Had Ren lost his mind—suddenly talking to them so coldly?
Instantly, one maid hurried to fetch a basin while the others scrambled for clothes. Their hands shook as they moved, uncertain whether they feared Eiran’s condition and the general’s reaction upon hearing of it or Ren’s commanding tone more.
He no longer resembled the calm, composed, timid man from earlier today.
When the bowl filled with ice and water was brought, Ren dipped the cloth and pressed it against the boy’s burning skin, wiping gently as though afraid he might break him as if even the slightest pressure could hurt him.
"Hurry up," he muttered when one of the maids hung back from handing him another cloth.
"Y-Yes!" she stammered, rushing to obey, still confused.
Eiran stirred faintly, another weak sound escaping his lips. Ren leaned down immediately, his hand cupping the boy’s face.
"I’m here," he whispered, barely audible. "You will be just fine. You simply need some rest."
The phrases surprised even himself.
Such caring words. How could he say them to this child, who wasn’t even his?
Perhaps it was because of his eyes—green like the depth of the forest and brighter than any jewel Ren could imagine. Or perhaps because this youth resembled him in a peculiar manner he couldn’t find words to express.
Ren bit his lips. He couldn’t even explain his behavior to himself. What was wrong with him?
Children do get sick. It’s normal... I’ve read it... I’ve heard it... So why does my chest hurt? Why does seeing him groaning in pain, almost lifeless, freeze my breath?
He clasped the small hand in his large palm, looking at Eiran tenderly.
Behind him, the maids exchanged worried glances, none daring to speak aloud.
"What’s wrong with him?"
"I don’t know... But he looks so scary now!.."
"Right? Like he’s completely another person."
"I’d say he’s just acting like a real dad would."
"I was thinking the same. Do you think him and the general?—"
"No way! The young master appeared the day he started working here. It can’t be! And he’s a beta." the maid clicked her tongue, shaking her head. "No way," she repeated.
Hearing footsteps approaching, the maids straightened their postures, standing still.
Hannah had returned to check on Eiran for a moment. But she simply stood at the door frame, tightening her jaw.
She could feel it—the shift in Ren. This wasn’t just duty. It was entirely something else. She turned her heels, leaving the room without interrupting Ren. It was almost as if she would be invading a private moment between a father and a son, although the thought appeared strange even to herself.
"The Lord would be upset with me if I tell him this," she muttered to herself, shaking her head.
The fever showed no sign of dropping, yet Ren refused to move from Eiran’s side. Hours passed, and his back had grown sore.
Every few minutes, he would stand up, take a short walk in the room and return to the bedside.
As he paced around to stretch his legs, he noticed the three maids standing against the wall. Their bodies slumped slightly, eyes heavy with sleep, half closed, barely holding themselves upright as they tried to keep watch.
"You can go to your rooms."
The maids’ eyes opened wide, hearing that. They blinked, in disbelief.
"B-But the headmaid said..." One of them began.
"I will explain it to her. You can go back."
Bright smiles on their lips, they nodded immediately.
"T-Thank you so much!.."
Their chest stung a little, knowing they had been ignoring such a caring man all this time, letting him get tormented by the other servants.
"We need to protect him next time!" Determined, one of them said as soon as they stepped outside, almost like a vow.
"I agree. He’s so nice..." Guilty, another lowered her head. "We’re so inhuman—"
"We’re not humans," the other chuckled. "But yes, it was very cruel of us."
"Let’s tell everyone else that everything Mr. Jian told us about him was a lie!"
"Yeah, we’ll do that tomorrow."
Ren returned to his seat. His thumb traced absent circles over Eiran’s knuckles, his eyes dark with fear and anxiety. He hadn’t felt his heart race so fast for a long time.
"Why isn’t he waking up?.." He whispered, shutting his eyes tight. "Please, wake up..."
Should I use my magic and heal him?—
Suddenly, Eiran’s fingers twitched under his fingertips, a faint murmur slipping past his lips.
Ren froze. His breath caught in his throat, chest tightening painfully.
Should he have felt happy? The first person the boy called for wasn’t the General, but him—a mere servant.
Eiran’s lashes fluttered weakly, his gaze unfocused. He turned toward Ren, though he could barely see his face.
"...Don’t go... Please? I’m sorry..." His voice was hoarse, quivering with fever.
Ren leaned in at once, brushing the damp hair from the boy’s face. "I’m not going anywhere," he said firmly—but paused almost immediately.
How could he say that when he had already planned to leave the mansion?
"R-Really?" A bright, fevered smile tugged at the child’s lips, followed by a weak cough.
"Yes. Yes. Just... have some water now." Ren reached for the glass on the night table beside the bed.
Carefully, he shifted Eiran, setting him comfortably against the pillows before helping him sip the liquid, making sure each drop went down safely.
The boy’s small hands trembled as he gripped the glass. Ren kept one hand over his, steadying it, feeling the fragile pulse beneath his fingers.
Every tiny movement Eiran made tugged at something deep in Ren’s chest—a need to protect, to never let anything harm him again.
He adjusted Eiran against the pillows once again, brushing damp strands from his forehead. The child’s hot face brushed against his skin, and Ren felt a fire burning in his chest that had nothing to do with the fever.
"Drink slowly," Ren murmured, tilting the glass for him. Eiran obeyed, each sip weak but steady. A soft cough escaped him, and Ren gently patted his back, soothing the small body.
"Are you alright?" Worried, he asked.
Eiran’s eyes, still unfocused, flickered toward Ren.
"I... I was scared," he whispered, tears in his eyes.
Ren’s chest tightened further.
"Why?" he asked softly.
"I thought you were gonna leave if I got sick... When I was in the class, you left... like usual, yes, but this time, you didn’t look back..." Sniffling, the boy wiped his tears on his own.
He hadn’t felt this terrible until today. Everyone in the mansion adored him—they barely spoke ill of him. Yet, when it came to Ren, his heart couldn’t tolerate even a little bit of negligence.
"I am annoying, am I not?"
Ren looked at him, puzzled.
"W-What? You were feeling sick then?!" He gasped.
Eiran nodded, pursing his lips.
"I told you I wasn’t feeling too good... And you said that good boys need to attend classes..."
Ren let out a soft gasp.
He had said so, but it was only because Eiran always joked around—Ren tried not to take his words too seriously.
And, most importantly, Ren was too preoccupied with how to respond to Hannah and keep her away from his affairs, trying to avoid another burden disguised as kindness.
"I-I apologize, Young Master! I shouldn’t have—"
"Eiran," the child corrected.
Ren frowned, confused.
"Stop me calling that. I am your son, am I not?" Tears steamed down Eiran’s face.
The young man lifted his hand to wipe away the tears but halted midway. He didn’t have the right to. He was the reason behind those tears.
"Why aren’t you saying anything, Papa?!" He cried.
Ren’s lips parted, but no words came. His chest felt too tight, his throat burning as though the boy’s every word pierced deeper than any blade.