"I don't believe this!" Zayden slammed his hand on the table, the plates rattling.
Ren stood frozen, unsure if he had done the right thing. From Zayden's reaction, at least, it seemed Eiran had been mistaken… He clearly cared.
His gaze flicked to the plates, pushed out of place. His hands twitched, itching to fix them. The General never minded mess, but this much disorder scraped against Ren's nerves. He always put things back in order, even when Zayden told the servants to leave them. Strangely, despite disobeying, he was never scolded.
Zayden's jaw tightened, his sharp red eyes narrowing as they found Ren. He wanted to ask why the boy thought such a thing—but the one with answers was Eiran.
He pushed back his chair and strode out without saying another word.
The tall figure brushed against Ren, leaving him blinking, then moving to follow without question. He was used to it.
He only needed to follow.
