In the bathroom, Kai was alone again. His stomach felt extremely full, and he pressed on it several times because it hurt and felt hard.
He was truly grateful that Sylas had given him so much delicious food, but he was so full that he didn’t dare say anything. He was afraid Sylas might not give him more food in the future if he complained.
Kai took a deep breath; his chest felt tight. He crawled to the edge of the bathtub and leaned against it. His stomach was distended.
He looked around the bathroom—it was spotless. He had spent the whole day cleaning it. There wasn’t much to do, since the place didn’t even have a speck of dust.
But of course, he had to work. Sylas had given him a good place to stay, and Kai hoped he could live there forever.
Back in Omino, he had heard many stories about slaves being forced to sleep in kitchens, bathrooms, or even outside. He used to imagine how terrible that must have been, because people always described it as a kind of misfortune.
But in Omino itself, they lived in cramped rooms and had to squeeze together. In his opinion, anywhere else was better than the slave barracks in Omino.
And now he was sleeping in a bathroom—and it wasn’t bad at all. In fact, it was very spacious, like one of the slave barracks in Omino that could hold 25 people, or maybe even more. He would be happy to live there.
Sylas was very kind to him, and he didn’t want to disappoint him. So he had to work hard to make Sylas happy. He didn’t want to be discarded again.
Kai held his stomach—it felt like he was going to vomit. His chest felt even tighter. He had never imagined that eating too much could make him suffer .
Meanwhile, at Huron’s residence...
It was nearing evening when Alvaro arrived after sword training. He looked reluctant to enter the large house. He sighed several times. If Huron hadn’t ordered him to come, he would never have set foot there.
That house held more bad memories than good ones. He had grown up there, and every corner still held memories of the happy days with his small family. But it was also where he had experienced the most painful loss: the death of his father and mother.
He truly hated that house. His chest felt tight the moment he saw it.
He walked slowly. The guards greeted him and told him that Huron was waiting in the study. Alvaro exhaled heavily.
When he arrived at the general’s study, the guards opened the door. Huron was sitting behind his desk, papers stacked in front of him. His expression was serious.
Huron looked up from his notes and quickly pushed the papers aside. His full attention shifted to Alvaro.
"Finally, you’re here. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting? I don’t have much time," Huron said sharply, pointing to the chair in front of him.
Alvaro rolled his eyes but bowed respectfully, as he was supposed to.
"Sorry, General. You didn’t have to call me during work hours," Alvaro replied.
Huron clicked his tongue and pointed again, signaling for Alvaro to sit.
Alvaro finally sat down, looking down. He didn’t want to meet the man’s gaze.
"Take off your clothes," Huron ordered.
Alvaro gasped and stared at him. Huron sat calmly, without a hint of emotion.
"Why?" Alvaro asked. As a knight, he was used to inspections—showing his body when necessary for duty—but this wasn’t during work. There was nothing suspicious about him now. Huron had already punished him; why did he still want to see his body?
Huron kept staring, clearly not open to further questions.
Alvaro sighed. He undressed quickly and placed his clothes beside him, turning away.
Huron stood up, stepped closer, and pulled Alvaro’s arm to check his back. He was shocked.
Alvaro realized right away what the man wanted to see and stepped back.
Huron stared at him, now facing forward. His gaze was full of questions. The wounds on Alvaro’s back had dried. Only the lash marks remained—the cuts had healed.
No military doctor could’ve done that, no matter how good the medicine.
"How did your wounds heal so quickly?" Huron asked, unable to hide his suspicion.
Alvaro looked away and quickly put his clothes back on. He had to think of an answer. He couldn’t possibly tell the truth—that Vlad, the vampire lord, had made him a slave and healed his wounds. That would be humiliating.
He thought hard. Then he remembered the potion made by Ibran.
"A doctor gave me a potion. I still have some left. I used it on my wounds," Alvaro said, trying to sound casual.
"A doctor?" Huron narrowed his eyes. With that level of skill, it couldn’t have been an ordinary doctor.
"Who is he?" Huron asked.
Alvaro had expected that question. He had to answer—otherwise Huron would keep digging until he found the truth.
"The doctor who was brought by the Crown Prince to treat His Majesty. We met him while we were on assignment outside the palace," Alvaro explained, reluctantly.
Huron stayed silent for a moment. But he remembered how the doctor from Rampesh had brought King Adrien back from the brink of death. He couldn’t deny the man’s talent.
Alvaro also stayed silent. He figured that if the doctor were here, he would’ve given the same potion, so his lie wouldn’t matter. Ibran’s skills were real. He just didn’t want to involve Vlad.
Huron finally seemed to accept the answer. Then he gave Alvaro a long, searching look from head to toe, as if examining every part of him.
Alvaro felt uncomfortable under the stare and looked away. Thɪs chapter is updatᴇd by NoveIＦire.net
Huron sat back down and placed a small box on the table. He opened it, revealing a pile of gold coins.
Alvaro looked at it, frowning in confusion.
What was that coins for?