— The fear I live in every day is not one you could imagine, not even in your worst nightmares. —
When he reached his room, Ren tossed the towel onto the single wooden chair in his room. Without wasting time, he stepped into the washroom, scrubbing the mud from his hands.
He had gone into the forest the moment Zayden entered the mansion. He needed to make sure his money was safe, buried beneath the old oak tree. He had also hidden a copy of the map he had painstakingly retraced from memory. Sharp from a young age, remembering such details was child’s play for him.
The rain hadn’t stopped for a long time, and he had remained near the field of roses—the only thing that calmed his trembling body during stormy nights.
For a long moment, his gaze caught his own reflection in the mirror, damp hair clinging to his face, eyes heavy. He studied it silently, as if searching for something he didn’t want to name.
A shiver ran down his spine, but not from the cold. He pressed his palms against the sink, feeling the ache of fatigue and something sharper—an emptiness he refused to acknowledge.
Even alone, even drenched and exhausted, he couldn’t stop the weight pressing against his chest. The guilt had been swallowing him alive. And to get rid of it, he needed to leave.
The sooner, the better.
Giggles echoed in the hallways, lighting the usually quiet mansion. Silence was the norm here, sometimes broken by loud voices, but rarely by joy.
Through the slightly opened door, servants stole glances at the Imperial Crown Prince, sitting beside their Young Master on the couch. The boy’s laughter rang out as Soren’s fingers ran along his sides, tickling him.
"Uncle! Stop!" The child laughed, barely able to breathe. His stomach hurt from twisting and turning, but he couldn’t stop.
"Alright, alright," Soren raised his hands, letting go of the young boy.
"It’s unfair! You are so much bigger and stronger than I!" The boy puffed his cheeks, frowning.
"That is indeed so sad," Soren clicked his tongue, though a small smile tugged at his lips.
"You are not even sad," Eiran grumbled, stomping on the floor as he returned to his seat. He turned, lifting a finger before saying, "Let me study before Dad and Papa scold me."
"They scold you?" Soren raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of his warm tea, white steam curling into the cold air.
The temperature had dropped drastically outside after last night’s storm. Now, instead of a warm breeze, cold wind brushed against his red hair.
Eiran pondered for a moment, resting his elbows on the table, his chin on his fists.
"Dad does. But Papa would never. He always believes my jokes," the child burst into laughter, proud of his mischief.
"You..." Soren paused. He couldn’t help but be taken aback by the resemblance between Zayden and Eiran, even though they didn’t share any blood.
"Yes?" Eiran tilted his head, waiting for his uncle to ask what he was about to say.
"Where is your Papa? I have not met him yet."
"I am not sure..." The boy’s head dropped, silver hair falling over his face. "He wasn’t even there at dinner, nor did he come to my bedroom to sing me a lullaby like every night."
"Eiran," Zayden’s voice startled the boy, making his posture straighten immediately. ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ ɴoᴠel Fɪre.nᴇt
Seeing this, Soren stared at his brother.
"Stop right there," Zayden interrupted. "I am the best father there could be, but I don’t spoil my child."
Soren raised an eyebrow in disbelief.
"How could that be? You yourself are spoiled rotten by our parents."
"That is. Totally. Not. True," Zayden shook his head, though he knew it was.
Otherwise, he would have been forced to take the title of Archduke, or another noble title he would have loathed. The duty of an Imperial General wasn’t easy, but it allowed him to stay away from high society and its gossip.
And their shallow pride...
"Uncle, uncle. Is it true that Dad is scared of cats? Hannah told me," Eiran asked, a smug smirk tugging at his lips.
When Zayden glared at him, the child quickly covered his mouth, trying—and failing—to suppress his laughter, his shoulders trembling.
"It is true," Soren admitted, curling his fingers into a fist and coughing lightly against it, as if clearing his throat.
Eiran’s eyes sparkled.
"Really? Dad, you’re really scared of cats?"
Zayden’s jaw tightened, but the corner of his lips twitched despite himself.
"That’s enough, Eiran. You already embarrassed me with that in front of my servants before."
"But it’s funny!" the boy protested, bouncing on the couch. "I saw you jump when one snuck in the garden and ran toward you."
Soren chuckled, shaking his head.
"I suppose it runs in the family. Perhaps you’ll inherit it too, young master."
Eiran gasped, pretending to clutch his chest in mock horror.
"Me? Scared of cats? Never! I love them."
Zayden crossed his arms, hiding a smile as he watched his son’s antics.
"Don’t push your luck," he warned gently.
Eiran laughed, leaning into Soren’s side for safety.
"Uncle, you have to teach me how to tickle people like you do!"
Soren’s golden eyes softened, fixing his glasses.
"Ah, you want to learn the art of mischief, do you? Very well, but only if you promise not to use it on your Dad too much. He will get mad at me, and I doubt I can afford that."
Eiran nodded eagerly, determination in his glimmering green eyes.
Zayden’s glare shifted to amusement, though he still refused to show it fully.
"You two are incorrigible," he muttered, shaking his head. "You only met yesterday, and yet you’re already plotting against me—your own brother and your own father?"
Soren laughed, tugging Eiran closer.
"Incorrigible? Perhaps. But isn’t that what makes life interesting?"
Eiran squealed in delight, and for a moment, the mansion felt lighter, filled with laughter and warmth that hadn’t been there in a long while.
Zayden watched his brother and his son speak, a smile that didn’t leave his lips. It had been a long time since he had the chance to enjoy a morning in warm conversation.
However, what happened with Ren still lingered in his mind. His gaze drifted, searching for the servant.
"What are you looking for?" Soren asked, getting up from his seat and moving to sit across from Zayden.
Eiran sat near the table, returning to do his homework, scribbling down a few spells Celine had asked him to analyze and memorize before today’s class.
"No one," Zayden said too quickly, the words slipping out before he could think.
His gaze lingered a moment longer on the empty space beyond the terrace, and Soren noticed it.
However, he kept quiet.