– Guilt is a disease for which I don't have a cure. –
The waxing crescent moon barely illuminated the dark night. On the large bed surrounded by countless toys the general bought for his son, Ren lay beside Eiran, his hand occasionally brushing against the child's forehead. He whispered the sweet lullaby the boy loved hearing every night.
Earlier, when they walked down the hallway, leaving the dining hall, Zayden had glared at him before disappearing in the opposite direction. Eiran had refused to sleep by his side tonight, stating he preferred Ren's lullaby compared to the stories Zayden narrated.
At that time, his eyes filled with rage, as if Ren had stolen his place.
"The general isn't wrong to be acting like this… Which father would want their child to call another man father?" His own words stung at the back of his throat. "What if?.." Ren shook his head.
There was still time.
Waving his hand in front of Eiran, he confirmed the little boy had fallen asleep. He stepped out of the room, walking through the corridors dimly lit by the rows of candles. The silence inside the large mansion resembled death—similar to a cemetery. Then, a thought crossed his mind.
It's not too late to go there.
—
After finishing a good amount of paperwork, Zayden exited his study room. He hadn't paced through the hallways for a while due to his busy schedule.
Then, he saw him—the servant who his son called Papa. The one his son preferred over him for the strangest reason, despite his status as a servant.
The young man's long silver hair that reached his waist fluttered in the chilly breeze of the night. His shoulders, broader than Zayden recalled, were wrapped in a thin black coat. He glanced around, as if making sure no one saw him.
What do I pay these guards for? Zayden sighed.
He didn't have the time to meet those guards. This man was suspicious—he needed to be trailed. He'd already seen this servant leave the mansion three times in the past few months, just as Jack's report stated. He had let it slide, thinking perhaps he needed air. Taking care of a dragon child wasn't something an ordinary man—and a beta—could do.
He must be up to something.
With slow and quiet steps, Zayden followed Ren. The thought of catching him red-handed sent a thrill through his veins. Finally, a way to remove him without earning Eiran's resentment.
Ren stood before the exit–a large door frame he could barely see in the darkness. He looked around carefully. No guards in sight. Slowly and quietly, he slipped outside the building. He walked through the paved road leading toward the woods.
He turned to the left once he spotted a bunch of mango trees. A right turn near a large oak tree, and he stopped.
And there it is...
Before him, a field of dark crimson roses bloomed gracefully. Ren dropped to his knees, gently caressing the muddy soil from the rain, then the flowers.
The roses' thorns pricked his fingertips, but he didn't hiss. The scent of blood lingered beneath the sweetness of the roses.
A light blue light flickered. And now, he could see what he always saw. A faint thin black string curled around the stems like a parasite within the field of rose.
Ren never wanted this string coming from him. He blankly stared at it as something sat beyond the pile of soil.
"I am… sorry… I'm so sorry…" he whispered, like a quiet magic spell that would ease the burning pain in his chest, clutching onto his chest. "I promise… everything will be fine… Just wait a little longer."
Standing at a distance, Zayden watched him carefully.
In the woods?
He narrowed his eyes, his lips tugged into a sneer.
Well, well. Isn't it the perfect place to commit treason?
Preying on traitors was his favourite hobby, after all. The emperor depended on him to find rebels that sided with the temple of Hianshu despite residing in Ravhara for centuries. They were good at hiding their claws and striking when it was least expected.
But Zayden could track them down regardless of how well they hid their true selves.
Born from an elf mother and a demon father, he radiated immense power. Capable of outsmarting any normal human being.The demon side of him fed on bloodshed, leaving pain in his entire body—but he'd grown so used to it, he barely felt it anymore.
Once Ren stopped before a scarlet rose field, Zayden stood behind a tree, keeping a distance. Alerting the enemy was the last thing he could do.
But no shadow, no bird carrying a message was in sight. No one came to meet him.
The young man's lips moved as if talking to—something—but not a person.
Zayden chuckled at his suspicious attitude. Had he grown that childish after Eiran appeared in his life? So much that he wanted to get rid of a man who was merely doing his duty? A duty that he, himself, had entrusted to the servant.
He had always doubted everyone around him, apart from the servants who remained by his side over the past three hundred years. He was bestowed with a blessing—but a curse to him—a long life. He wouldn't die of old age. Unless he was murdered. But was anyone in Ravhara strong enough to kill him?
Time to go home.
He sighed, walking back to the mansion.
Just then, Ren turned, almost certain someone was there. A faint sound that came and disappeared just as soon.
Ren pulled a rose, crumbling it in his hand. He pulled out the bottle he always carried in his pocket, opening it and putting the rose petals inside the bottle. It was almost like a ritual he made for himself to hide his pheromones. A scent no one in the mansion should discover. Not even those he trusted.
"No one should know what you truly are," a voice echoed in his mind.
A voice once admired, but now despised with every fragment of his being.