The papers flipped with each brush of his fingers. He sat at his desk, staring at the reports he received from Hannah and Jack.
Nothing unusual about Ren.
Just a servant.
A simple beta.
A mere human.
The reports stated that Ren woke early each morning, prepared everything for Zayden, then accompanied him to work. After returning to the mansion, he attended to the remaining duties.
Occasionally, during his free time, he would step outside—often into the forest near the estate. There, he never encountered anyone. Instead, he quietly tended to a field of roses, which bloomed oddly well despite the heavy rains.
[Nothing suspicious.]
Both reports claimed the same. Yet, Zayden couldn't shake the strange sensation that came whenever Ren was near. The unsettling silence, the disarming peace that seemed to seep into him. It gnawed at his restless nature.
Zayden thrived on chaos.
On noise.
And yet, he found himself not repulsed by Ren's calm… but drawn to it. He shook his head.
"Nonsense," he muttered to himself.
When he flipped another page, the report of the substance was written. His eyes narrowed at the first word—poison.
"It must be the Duke Danman's doing," he sneered.
Duke Danman had been eyeing a mine under Zayden's possession for some time. Marriage was one of the easiest ways to claim it.
"Now that his plan failed," Zayden chuckled, "he wants to use magic."
In Revhara, magic was widely used—often for purposes far from noble. The real problem was finding the culprits. Property papers weren't yet resistant to magical tampering, and though the emperor had tasked the magic tower with creating a safeguard, they had yet to succeed.
Commoners suffered most from such crimes. Powerful, skilled magic users were often hired solely to tamper with property ownership records.
Zayden leaned back in his chair, the thought leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. There was nothing more he could do about Duke Danman for the moment. Then, he looked at the document beside the recent reports.
[Adoption: Accepted]
It was a letter from the emperor, with his seal on it.
With a long sigh, he decided to head to his room and check on the dragon's egg he brought back from his recent quest. It had been nearly a month since he got it back, and nothing unusual had happened—apart from the occasional glimmering green light that rippled faintly across its shell.
***
Inside the room, quiet and peaceful, Ren folded the general's clothes.
The other servants claimed the General preferred his work over theirs.
Despite knowing it was just an excuse to use him, he didn't protest. It wasn't as though he wasn't accustomed to being used by others.
This time, however, he allowed it willingly, better to stay occupied than attract unnecessary attention. Not after what he had done. Not when many eyes followed him compared to before.
If it weren't money, he wouldn't have stepped out of the crowd and accepted his crime before everyone. He needed to save money. He couldn't stay in this place forever. He needed to keep searching throughout the empire for that.
The weight of stares overwhelmed him sometimes—suspicion, fear, and disgust all tangled together.
How could a beta kill someone and get away with it?
The whispers burned in his ears, sometimes echoed and haunted him even in his sleep.
The other servants were betas too. If it had been them, they would've been executed without question.
They envied him for surviving, but to Ren, it was meaningless.
The crack of the splitting shell snapped him from his thoughts. His head turned to the table where a strange egg lay.
A fine green glow pulsed from it, then faded, and the egg split apart completely, slowly.
A tiny hand popped out of it, and slowly its body was exposed, damp and trembling.
Ren froze.
Before he could step further, his chest tightened as his vision turned dark, only grey outlines—his eyes glimmered blue and a mixture of gold.
He blinked. But his vision didn't change.
He swallowed hard, his stomach twisted.
What if he looked at the newborn and it died?
His fingers twitched, willing himself to turn away. But the pull was too strong. He stepped closer unwillingly. It was as if something—someone—forced him to go towards the child. Almost as if possessed.
The hatchling wasn't what he expected. A small, human-like baby. Not a dragon, a snake, or anything he read about in the books.
The baby stared at him with wide, curious eyes—bright green like precious jade, then giggled. It didn't cry like normal babies did.
Ren couldn't move, couldn't blink. He held the child as though he were under a spell, their gazes locked in a fragile bond, yet deep.
The door burst open behind him.
Zayden stood in the doorway, his eyes darting from Ren's back to the shattered remains of the egg scattered across the floor.
In two quick steps, he was beside Ren. He looked at the baby in his arms, and he extended his arms without hesitation.
Ren, still dazed, let the baby slip into the general's hold. Now, he didn't see darkness.
My eyes should look normal…
He thought, looking into the general's eyes.
"It's my child," Zayden said, the words sounding strange even to his own ears. He never thought he would have a child of his own. He was too young to have one, for his kind.
He stared down at the tiny human in disbelief.
A half-breed?
He wondered, a slight frown on his face.
The child's mother wasn't alive to answer his questions.
Half-breeds were not rare in Revhara where countless different species resided. They mixed among others over the centuries. Now, people of pure blood were the most rare to find.
The child's cry broke throughout the room.
Ren's body stiffened. He hadn't felt such distress for a while now.
He couldn't understand why this baby's cries unsettled him.
"Tell Hannah I asked for her," Zayden ordered.
Ren nodded, quickly turning his head and walking out of the room.
As Zayden looked at the baby, he briefly recalled the expression his servant had on his face when he held the little boy. His empty red eyes shone like rubies for the first time. As if they had regained life. But the next moment, it vanished.
Was it his imagination?
***
The mansion was in uproar. Servants rushed through the halls, their hurried footsteps echoing against the marble floors. Shouts tangled together in confusion.
A baby—born? No… appeared? No one seemed to know.
Servants circled the crib like headless chickens, trying everything they could think of—milk, blankets, lullabies that broke into nervous whispers. But the wailing only grew louder.
Then Ren stepped forward.
The cries only stopped when he picked the infant, no heavier than a feather, in his arms, unable to bear his shrieks, almost deafening him until he lost his senses.
It stunned everyone present in the room.
How could the child fall asleep in this servant's arms within a few seconds?
That could only be possible if he were the child's parent.
But Ren wasn't.
He couldn't be.
He had nothing to do with the child.
Silence fell so suddenly that Zayden almost thought his ears had gone numb. His gaze narrowed.
Ren's expression was as unreadable as always. Like a closed, locked book whose key had long been thrown away.
"You seem so natural at this, Ren," Hannah gasped, breaking the silence.
Ren looked at her, curling his lips into a faint grin. It wasn't a shock only to them, but to himself as well. He had never carried a baby. Yet, he kept being pulled by the little boy.
His eyes… resemble his…
Ren looked at the sleeping child.
The servants complimented him, calling him beautiful, handsome. Ren couldn't understand. He looked ugly now that his big bright green eyes were closed.
Zayden's gaze lingered on Ren for a moment before he turned to Hannah.
"Find a nanny," he ordered, his voice firm, leaving no room for discussion.
Within the hour, word spread through the mansion that someone would be hired to care for the mysterious child.
Two days later, the child's cries had ceased—even when Ren was nowhere to be found in the mansion. The general and he returned to their routines and a nanny was found—Mrs. Eden Folz.
The servants breathed easier now.
Ren, however, still found himself drawn to the baby whenever time allowed. Zayden would stay in the study room for long hours, giving Ren too much free time to waste.
He fed the baby, changed his clothes, and adjusted his blankets quietly. He told himself it was a habit—just another task, no different from polishing the general's boots or arranging his desk. But he couldn't deny the strange calm that settled over him every time those tiny fingers curled around his own.
"Do you not get tired?" Eden asked, crossing her arms. "I believe this is my job," she smiled.
Ren straightened his posture, turning to face Eden.
"I apologize if it bothers you."
"I did not mean it to sound rude. I just… You appear to be his parent more than the general."
Ren shook his head, raising his hands as if surrendering.
"No, no. I…" he looked at the sleeping infant. "I do not know myself why I do these," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.