Two days had passed since Ren saved James with a sword, something no servant should be able to wield.
The household had settled back to normal, the brief ruckus with Yuang had calmed down, although the culprit remained in the dungeon. He was sent food and water, barely enough to keep him alive.
Zayden hadn’t made a decision about him yet. His subordinates suggested a few insane ideas. It only made him laugh—they thought like their kind would think, demons, vampires, witches. But they weren’t real solutions.
If he proceeded with their suggestions, the tension between him and the Duke would only grow.
During his recent visit to the royal palace, the emperor—his father—suggested he keep a safe distance until the end of the year. They still needed his military force until they strengthened another duchy to overtake Duke Danman.
"He has begun to think he owns the empire because he won the recent war five years ago to conquer the Kingdom of Yumio," the emperor had scoffed as he sipped his cup of tea.
Zayden had so much to ponder, yet the one who crossed his mind the most was Ren. He had been thinking about the servant, convinced he was no ordinary man. He suspected hidden skills, powers, training, or maybe an identity that could change everything.
As the young man stood before the dining table, preparing breakfast, Zayden waved his hand at the other servants, dismissing them.
The row of servants bowed hesitantly before exiting the hall. Ren hadn’t paid attention, too occupied with his own duty.
Then, a sudden presence appeared behind him. He didn’t jolt or flinch. He stood still, preparing to attack whoever it was. Just as he closed his eyes—his gaze turning a glowing yellow mixed with blue—he heard the familiar voice near his ear, the warm breath brushing against his nape.
"You will be training from now on when we visit the training ground."
Ren froze, blinking almost too quickly to shift the color of his eyes back to ruby-red.
He turned to face Zayden. Their faces were only a few inches apart, yet none of them stepped back.
Zayden locked gaze with Ren, a soft smile on his lips. His eyes lingered for a moment, taking in the small movements—the controlled stance, the subtle tension in Ren’s shoulders, the calm composure despite the obvious surprise.
Something about the servant made his chest tighten slightly, though he didn’t name it. A pull he didn’t expect, an itch of curiosity he hadn’t felt for anyone in years. However, he knew he couldn’t simply let it slide.
Everything will be fine once his innocence has been proven.
"Do not use ’I hate sweating’ as an excuse now. Are you telling me you don’t sweat in this hot weather?" He pointed at the window.
Although it was only six in the morning, the sun had already risen. The temperature was burning warm, almost unbearable. Even the shade of the large trees couldn’t shield the mansion from the heat. Through magic, the mansion was cooled, but it didn’t last long.
He had showered as much as possible so that his pheromones would dull, if possible, vanish completely. The suppressants he made every time he had some free time were strong, but even his body had become used to them, currently losing effect.
Just another two months, he told himself.
"You were so good with the blade, swinging with such ease. There is no way I will let a potential great knight such as yourself..."
Zayden slowly stepped back, brushing Ren’s shoulder as if flicking dust off it.
Ren looked at him, expression as blank as always.
"There was dust," Zayden grinned, explaining the reason behind his behavior, although Ren hadn’t asked.
Why am I explaining myself to him, when Iam
He wondered, biting the inside of his lip. He retreated his hand, clenching it into a fist.
Ren’s gaze didn’t waver even for a moment, simply blinking.
"So, I was saying..." Zayden’s eyes lingered on Ren’s face, forgetting his words for a brief moment. He swallowed hard, before continuing, "You have to train under me from today."
"No, please," Ren said, almost instantly.
"I believe it wasn’t a suggestion, but an order, Attendant."
The servant bit his lips, gaze lowering to the grey carpet they stood on. He had never noticed the snowflake printed in black ink before.
He let out a soft sigh. At this point, ’attendant’ had become his name in the general’s mind. He still wondered why he never used his real name.
"I understand," he said unwillingly, bowing. "If that is your command, My Lord."
Zayden nodded, a bright grin of satisfaction on his face.
Now I can easily expose him through his pheromones as an omega and ask him to tell the truth.
He thought, though he didn’t voice it. His gaze remained glued on the servant for another few minutes, as if some invisible tether quietly pulled him toward Ren. Pulling the chair at the edge of the large table, he took a seat.
Soon after, James and Eiran arrived at the dining hall.
"DAD! PAPA! James did my hair today! Does it look good?" The child ran toward the pair of men, excitement bubbling with every step. His hair was neatly slicked at the back of his head, resembling a young lord.
"You look handsome, just like your dad," Zayden chuckled, pulling the boy onto his lap.
"NOOO," Eiran groaned, crossing his arms. "I wanna look handsome like Papa!" His green eyes sparkled, and he turned toward Ren, who jolted.
"Me?" Ren pointed at himself, confusion written across his face.
"He is not wrong. I would so let you do me," James added with a wink, a smirk tugging at his lips.
Ren narrowed his eyes. James often joked like that. He couldn’t decide if it was a personality quirk or a habit forged from past hardships. Perhaps after all the problems he faced, this was just how James coped with life—his humor a little... messed up.
"Do ’you’? What do you mean, James?" Eiran tilted his head, curiosity piqued.
"James," Zayden’s voice snapped, his gaze sharp and threatening.