"REN! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!" James rushed toward Ren as soon as he spotted him in the hallway, his figure barely visible in the dim light. The wooden floorboards creaked beneath his hurried steps, echoing against the silent walls.
Ren blinked, as if he didn’t recognize him at first.
"What do you mean? So much happened yesterday! Oh—right, what happened to Yuang?"
The image of Yuang’s lifeless body flashed before Ren’s eyes. One of the rare times he had actually seen a corpse in the process of dying. The memory relayed yet, he didn’t feel any emotion.
James forced a laugh.
"You are funny. The General wouldn’t—"
"He called the Lord ’demon,’ and he got killed," Ren said, monotone, as if narrating a book.
James froze mid-step. His hand clenched at his side. It wasn’t entirely untrue—the General was indeed a demon, even if half-blooded—but to kill someone because of that...
"You must have been startled."
Ren shook his head slowly, his still-damp hair from the shower clinging to his face.
"Why? It was alright. I just wonder why—" He paused, lips tightening. "There was a man who visited yesterday. Everyone seemed familiar with him."
"That’s the Imperial Crown Prince! The Lord’s older brother!" James exclaimed.
Ren’s heart thudded in his chest. Crown Prince meant someone from the capital. And the maids said his posters were everywhere—what if he recognized him? What if his identity was exposed, and the Temple came for him? What if he died, before he could even—
His blood ran cold, his fingertips trembling. The only emotion strong enough to shake him was fear.
"What’s wrong?" James’s hand landed on Ren’s shoulder, eyes furrowed. "You’re acting... weird."
Ren didn’t respond. He simply stared down the hallway, letting the fear settle in his chest like thorns.
James exhaled, swallowing hard.
"You’re really something else."
Ren tilted his head slightly, eyes still empty, still unreadable.
"Nothing to worry about."
"I don’t know whether to be relieved or terrified." James frowned, his chest tightening.
Ren didn’t answer, gently brushing James’ hands off him.
"Right. I’m leaving tomorrow. I talked with the General right after we made the plan against the Duke’s schemes. I sent my mother away from my hometown to a safe place so the Duke wouldn’t reach her," he paused, turning toward the wall. His gaze lingered on the portraits as he continued.
"Actually, also because I wasn’t sure if the General would accept my deal. When I told him, he said: I didn’t expect you to be this smart. As for you... I didn’t want to tell you before because... It’s hard for me to say goodbye in advance. It feels like I’m already leaving. But I wanted to tell you at least one day before, so you aren’t too shocked."
"What do you mean, ’oh’? Aren’t you surprised?" James hissed, his voice sharp, eyes wide.
"Well... You were going to leave to begin with. I will leave one day, too. Is it supposed to be surprising?" His voice was soft, but the words were colder than ice, sharper than a blade.
"I thought we became friends."
"I have not denied that."
This is just how Ren is. Always distant, cold like the ocean at night. When it reaches the shore, you could touch it—but when it pulls away, even if you dive into its depths, you will never reach the end.
"You are so..." James bit his lips. He couldn’t even get mad at him when he looked into his eyes, so empty, so drained.
He was fine yesterday... What happened?
Ren tried to keep out of Soren’s sight, but all his efforts unraveled the moment Zayden and Eiran called him to the dining hall for lunch.
The three chatted, joined by James and other attendants who occasionally asked about the capital, though hesitantly. Some had stayed in the mansion so long that they hadn’t set foot in the city for years.
"Your place sure is lively," Soren said with a smile, glancing at Zayden, who leaned back in his chair, feigning nonchalance.
The dark-blue-haired man shook his head.
"It is only lively because you are here. However... You have changed—to talk so freely with servants."
"Your servants are different. They don’t belong to the High Society to spread gossip about how the Imperial Crown Prince talked to them without a proper reason."
"Ha ha ha. I don’t know if you are praising me but I will take it as a compliment."
"As you wish, but where is your part—" He stopped mid-sentence when he caught the sharp edge of Zayden’s gaze.
Clearing his throat, he corrected quickly, "I mean, Eiran, where is your Papa?" He leaned toward the child beside him.
The boy looked around, then spotted a few strands of long silver hair poking out from behind Maria. His grin widened.
"Why are you hiding? We aren’t playing hide-and-seek. Come out, Papa!"
Ren clenched his fists, trying to control his quickening pulse.
What if the Crown Prince had seen the posters? Maybe they were already gone from the streets... but the Temple wasn’t the type to give up.
Even if no one here knew, the fear of being recognized clawed at him, stronger than any reason or logic.
Maria stepped aside, gasping.
"Oh dear! I haven’t seen you, Ren."
"It is alright," he said softly, slowly walking near Eiran, keeping his gaze on the floor, hoping his hair would hide his face.
"This is my Papa!" Eiran pulled on Ren’s shirt’ sleeve, pulling him close proudly. "Isn’t he handsome?!"
Soren chuckled at the child’s cute attitude.
"He really adores him," he whispered, leaning toward Zayden.
"Why else do you think I gave up trying to explain the truth to him?"
The red-haired young man laughed, turning to Eiran.
"Sorry, I was asking your Dad if he agrees."
Zayden opened his mouth to say something but held back.
It wasn’t as if he could deny it. Ren was undoubtedly beautiful.
What in the world am I thinking?
"Papa! Sit!" Eiran patted the chair’s armrest beside him.
Ren forced himself to sit down, though his shoulders stayed rigid. Every time Soren’s gaze brushed past him, a knot formed in his stomach, as if the Crown Prince could see straight through his hair, his eyes, his skin, down to the secret he was hiding.
Maria served the dishes, chatter filling the hall again, but none of it reached Ren. All he heard was the pounding of his own heartbeat.
"Attendant," Zayden’s voice cut through, steady and calm. "Pass the bread."
Ren’s hands twitched as he obeyed, sliding the basket across the table. He prayed no one would notice how tightly he gripped the edge.
"You’re quiet," Soren remarked casually, sipping his wine. "Is he always ?"
The question was harmless, yet Ren’s throat went dry. Though the table overflowed with drinks, he knew none of them could quench the burn crawling down his throat.
Zayden’s lips quirked faintly.
"He isn’t much of a talker for sure."
Soren hummed in response, seemingly satisfied, but Ren could feel the weight of his eyes lingering. Follow current novels on NovᴇlFir(e).nᴇt
It was nothing. Just a glance.
And yet Ren’s stomach twisted, convinced that at any moment the Crown Prince would call his name—the real one—and everything would end.