Dark clouds hung over the mansion. Lying on his bed, Eiran stared at the partially opened curtains to his left. A few droplets of water rolled down the windowpanes, glimmering as the golden lights outside reflected on them.
He remembered what had happened at the banquet. He had followed Ren, yet the man hadn’t paid him any attention. When he had called him Papa, Ren had stared at him as if he had said something wrong—something he shouldn’t say.
It brought back memories from long ago. He never understood why he acted . Memories of when Ren and Zayden—everyone in the mansion—used to insist Ren wasn’t his father.
But from the moment he could think, Eiran had known Ren was his father. Zayden, however, was not—but he was kind, always watching over him in his quiet, careful way.
"Why does Papa say I am not his son?" he had wondered countless times, yet the answer never came.
He couldn’t ask Ren. Nor could he ask Zayden, whose gentle presence and watchful eyes always made him feel safe—even if he didn’t understand everything.
The sound of the door opening shattered the silence. Eiran’s heart jumped into his throat. He jolted upright, blankets tangled around him.
"Papa?" he whispered, tilting his head to the side.
No answer—only the echo of footsteps in the dark room.
"Dad?" His voice cracked, rising, mingling with the patter of rain against the window. He scrambled for a candle, trembling, but a pair of strong arms shot out, stopping him cold.
When he blinked, a figure dressed in black loomed before him—one he didn’t recognize.
"DA!—" His scream was muffled as a hand clamped over his mouth, while another gripped the back of his head, forcing him to stay still.
The man clicked his tongue, a mocking sound.
"You nobles and your ways of doing things... Kidnapping a child," he chuckled darkly. "But at least I get paid for it."
Tears welled in Eiran’s eyes. He could barely breathe. Panic clawed at his chest, making it hard to think. His body trembled, hands twitching. He closed his eyes tightly, forcing himself to exhale. He needed to calm down—only then could he try to use his powers.
"If you are not careful, you could not only injure yourself but everyone around you, Young Master," Celine’s voice echoed in his mind. He clenched his fists. He couldn’t hurt anyone—not his father, at least.
A flicker of golden light surrounded him, only to vanish as quickly as it appeared. Eiran gasped, eyes wide in terror.
"We can’t let you use magic and kill us , can we, Young Master?" Another man appeared behind the first. His hands were bound with spell-block handcuffs—anti-mana iron that nullified all magic.
Eiran growled, fury mingling with panic and fear. His body shook uncontrollably.
"The little one seems mad."
"Does it matter to us? What can he do? Let’s go," the second man said, striking him with a controlled hand.
The child’s vision blurred. Panic surged.
Papa... Papa... S-Save me.
His consciousness began to slip, body going limp in the first man’s grasp, the cold iron cuffs biting against his wrists. Fear burned through him like fire, and he was utterly powerless.
When he opened his eyes, Eiran found himself in a dark room. He blinked, trying to make sense of the situation. Had he had a nightmare? Or had some men really abducted him?
With the number of guards Dad has, there’s no way—
He paused. He tried to lift his hands, but they wouldn’t obey. Same with his legs. They were bound. And the thick iron handcuffs he had thought were a dream now glimmered in the darkness.
However, he could breathe. Nothing covered his mouth or nose.
"Is anyone there?" His voice echoed through the space.
Eiran’s eyes darted around, searching for someone—some kind of light. Anything to hold onto hope. But there was nothing.
Why would someone do this to him? And more importantly, how could they have bypassed his Dad’s strict security?
His heart hammered, loud enough to reach his ears. His mind raced with impossible scenarios, each darker than the last.
Is this how I... die?
He tugged at his restraints, but they didn’t budge. His chest rose and fell rapidly, panic surging. Cold sweat trickled down his temples.
"Papa..." he whispered, voice trembling. "Dad... Where are you?.. Please..."
No answer. Only the sound of his own ragged breathing and the faint drip of water somewhere in the room.
A shadow moved. Eiran’s head snapped toward it. He froze, every muscle twitched with fear. The darkness seemed to close in, suffocating him.
He told himself, but the words sounded hollow even to himself. His hands strained against the iron, nails scraping against metal. Panic clawed at him, and for a moment, he felt completely, utterly powerless. Updates are released by novelꜰire.net
Having learned swordsmanship and magic, he was certain he was strong—enough to defend himself now. But it seemed he was mistaken. At the end of the day, he was still a child. A child in a world of cruel adults.
His throat tightened. The more he thought about it, the more useless his training felt. What good were lessons when his hands were chained, when his legs wouldn’t move? He had no sword. No teacher at his side. No father to shield him.
Only darkness embraced him. But it did little to comfort him.
Eiran bit down on his lip, hard enough to taste the faint tang of blood. His eyes burned, but he refused to let the tears fall. Crying wouldn’t change anything.
Crying wouldn’t bring Papa or Dad here.
He tugged again at the cuffs until his wrists ached. They didn’t even shift.
The sound of footsteps echoed faintly from somewhere beyond the room. He froze, holding his breath.
His heart pounded in his chest, each beat louder than the last. He wanted to call out, but his voice refused to rise.
What if it wasn’t his Papa or Dad? What if it were someone else?
He lowered his head, shoulders trembling. A tear slipped down, his nose running from the panic and the heat rising in his body.
Maybe... maybe he really was powerless.
The sound of a tongue clicking echoed in the distance, sharp against the silence. Eiran flinched.
He lifted his head, eyes darting back and forth, desperate to find the source.
One of the kidnappers. It had to be.
He swallowed hard, throat dry.
What would happen to him now?
He swallowed hard. What will happen to him now?