Standing before the empty bed, Ren froze.
"He’s not here!" he turned, eyes wide.
Zayden’s brows furrowed, unwilling to trust the servant’s words. He stepped closer to the bed, his gaze narrowing.
"He might have gone somewhere—"
Just then, thunder roared, a sharp flash of light cutting through the storm outside.
"Where would he go on such a night, My Lord? He’s not the kind to vanish without a word."
Zayden glanced at Ren, then let out a quiet sigh.
"You sound like a worried mother right now."
Ren’s frown deepened. This was no time for such jests—his chest throbbed with fear.
Rain poured outside, the sound stretching like an endless veil.
"Calm down, attendant. He is fine. No need to act like a mother."
Ren’s frown darkened at Zayden’s words. He hated it—being compared to something so foolish.
Was that how little Zayden saw him?
His chest tightened, anger and fear twisting together, yet he bit back the words threatening to escape. Now wasn’t the time.
"We should search for him," he said, spinning on his heel to leave the room.
"Wait. We should search here first. Perhaps he doesn’t like the rain?"
Ren swallowed hard. That couldn’t be it, right? If Eiran truly was his son, and he was hiding—trembling in some corner of this room, afraid of the storm—then Ren would never forgive himself. For failing to notice. For failing to tell him everything would be alright.
The General paced the room, pulling back the curtains, crouching to peek under the bed, and opening the closet doors one by one. But it was in vain.
Eiran was nowhere to be seen.
"He is not here..." The words slipped past Zayden’s lips, heavy with disbelief. "This is strange... he wouldn’t—"
"This is exactly what I am saying," Ren cut in, his voice low but edged with fury, his gaze sharp as glass.
Zayden’s lips twitched into a faint smile.
Is he mad? Now, of all times? The latest_epɪ_sodes are on_the novelFɪre.net
"L-Let’s see outside," Zayden muttered. He couldn’t understand why he was the one stuttering at the thought that a servant was mad at him. Yet, unease clouded his mind.
"We should notify the guards. And the servants. Everyone," Ren whispered, though his words carried enough weight for Zayden to hear. His urgency pressed against the air like a blade.
"Attendant, calm down." Zayden reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to steady him.
Ren looked up at him, his eyes glistening.
"W-Wait... are you crying?"
Ren jerked his head away, shaking it quickly. His throat tightened, his chest heavy. He didn’t even know what was wrong with him. What was he feeling? No words could describe it—only the ache that threatened to spill over.
"The Young Master," he mumbled.
"We need to find Eiran!" He swatted Zayden’s hand away and rushed outside.
If he could, he would use magic, brightening the hallways. But he still couldn’t reveal his truth to the General. Not even now, when it almost seemed like he might care. After all, what kind of master asked their servant if they were crying?
The candles flared to life, the corridors finally resembling what Ren was used to seeing.
"Who the hell turned these candles off?" Zayden grumbled, scratching the back of his head. He tried to sound irritated, but worry weighed heavily in his voice.
"My Lord... maybe—" His voice faltered, as though connecting pieces together.
"Maybe?" Zayden arched a brow, his gaze focused on Ren’s shift of expressions. It was rare to see the servant’s face change within seconds .
Ren shook his head quickly, dismissing the thought. The temple couldn’t possibly know Eiran was his son. Not when he, himself, was unsure.
And besides... they didn’t even know he was here.
"Nothing," he sighed. "We should find the guards, ask them, and send some to search for him."
Zayden nodded, his sharp eyes fixed only on Ren—too focused on the man’s trembling voice and strained face to notice anything else.
But as Ren stepped forward, his foot caught on something. Something that was rather soft, unlike the marle floor.
He looked down—and gasped.
Zayden blinked, finally pulling his gaze away from Ren. He frowned at the sight. Despite his demonic senses, he didn’t notice what surrounded them until the other had stumbled upon it.
"What is this?" With his boot, he turned over the body lying on the floor. It was one of the guards stationed outside Eiran’s room.
"How did he end up here?.. Could it be that... he’s in trouble?!" Ren’s lips trembled at the thought alone. This couldn’t be true. He—
Everyone around you will only face misfortune!
You shouldn’t have returned. He would have been safe without you around.
As if bewitched, Ren repeated the words aloud, his voice low—but Zayden heard them. The General’s gaze narrowed, eyes sharp even in the dim candlelight. He had been so focused on Ren—on the fear twisting the servant’s face—that he hadn’t noticed the guard lying on the floor until now. His jaw tightened.
Ren crouched on the ground, hands trembling over his ears.
"No, no," he mumbled, shaking his head, refusing to believe what his own inner voice screamed.
Zayden stepped forward, his long shadow stretching over the guard’s body. "Ren..." His voice was low, steady, but his heart raced.
How could I have missed this?
The thought of his son—of Eiran—in danger sent a cold spike down his spine. He had been so absorbed in Ren, in keeping him an eye on him, them keeping him from panicking, that the real threat had slipped past him.
The servant didn’t hear Zayden call his name. His mind clouded with the darkest thoughts, every sort of danger that the boy might be facing at this very moment.
Noticing his trembling shoulders, Zayden sighed, kneeling before him to lock gaze with Ren. He raised his hands to cup his face but his fingers refused to obey.
"We should first focus on finding him," he said, his voice loud enough for Ren to hear.