They returned just as quietly as they had left.
The shortest wall loomed ahead, bathed in the late-afternoon glow. The man set the ladder down first, steadying it with practiced ease. "Go," he murmured.
The boy climbed without hesitation, movements familiar, almost routine. At the top, he glanced back, eyes bright with mischief. The man followed, agile despite his size, landing soundlessly on the other side before pulling the ladder down and hiding it where it belonged.
They slipped through the corridors like ghosts.
Every turn was familiar. Every shadow remembered them.
When they reached the boy's room, the man paused, listening. Silence. He pushed the door open just enough for them to slide inside and close it behind them.
Then—
"Hello."
The voice came from the bed.
The boy froze.
The man's hand twitched instinctively toward the boy's shoulder, but it was already too late.
A tall figure sat casually atop the neatly made bed, one long leg crossed over the other, posture relaxed as if this were his own chamber. Silver hair fell loosely over broad shoulders, catching the light like polished steel. His eyes—deep, velvet-toned and knowing—curved with amusement.
An alpha.
No—that alpha.
The boy swallowed, then forced an awkward smile. "Third brother… Adrien," he said carefully. "How are you here?"
Adrien waved lazily, smile widening. He looked every bit like a deity descended from old murals—handsome to the point of being unfair, presence filling the room without effort.
"Oh?" Adrien drawled. "You know how brothers are. Always worried." His gaze flicked pointedly toward the window. "I thought you might've forgotten what I looked like… considering how fast you ran earlier."
The boy waved both hands quickly. "No—brother, you jest," he said, laughing a little too brightly. "I was just… excited to see the city."
Adrien hummed, clearly unconvinced.
His eyes shifted to the man standing beside the boy.
"And you," Adrien added mildly, tilting his head. "I assume you're the reason he's so… athletic."
The man inclined his head respectfully, jaw tight. "My fault, Your Highness."
Adrien chuckled. "Bold. I like that."
The boy's smile faltered just a little.
Then
The boy clasped his hands together instantly, eyes shining with exaggerated innocence.
"Brother," he said sweetly, stepping closer, "my good brother… don't tell Father, okay?"
Adrien arched a silver brow, clearly enjoying this far too much. "Straight to the point already?" He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm. I might consider it—"
The boy leaned forward eagerly. "On what condition, my dear third brother?"
Adrien's lips curved into a slow, knowing grin. "Tell me your plan. About that day."
The boy's eyes flickered—then a smirk bloomed, sharp and mischievous.
"You really want to know?" he asked softly.
Adrien nodded once.
The boy stepped closer and whispered into his brother's ear.
Whatever he said made Adrien's relaxed posture stiffen.
His eyes widened.
"You're serious?" Adrien asked under his breath. "And you're certain?"
The boy straightened, confidence settling over him like armor. "Absolutely."
Adrien's gaze sharpened. "Does he know?"
"No."
Silence stretched for half a second.
Both brothers turned their heads in unison.
Their eyes landed on the man standing beside the boy.
The man felt it instantly—the weight of that look.
Adrien studied him slowly, from head to toe, as if reassessing everything. The boy watched with quiet amusement, saying nothing.
Then, just as suddenly, the tension eased.
"Sit," Adrien said lightly.
They moved to the small table near the window. Snacks were brought out, tea poured. The atmosphere shifted into something deceptively normal—like any other afternoon spent together.
They ate. They drank. Adrien asked casual questions. The boy answered easily. The man spoke only when addressed.
Yet beneath it all, something had changed.
When the cups were empty and the plates cleared, Adrien stood.
He walked over to the man and placed a firm, almost brotherly pat on his hand.
"Good luck," Adrien said with a smile that held far too much meaning.
Then he turned and left the room without another word.
The door closed softly behind him.
The man stood still, confused.
What was that supposed to mean?
Behind him, the boy's expression was calm—almost satisfied.
And far away, beyond walls and silence, Adrien walked down the corridor thinking only one thing:
I pity you.
Because whatever my little brother just told me—
You're already standing at the edge of something you don't understand.
The week slipped by faster than he expected.
Before he knew it, night had fallen on the eve of his birthday.
The room was quiet, lit only by warm lamplight. The boy sat at the table, fingers twisting in his lap, his nerves impossible to hide. Across from him, the man moved calmly, setting their dinner in place as if this were any other ordinary night.
But it wasn't.
The man noticed. He always did.
After they finished eating, the man stood and brushed his hands together lightly. He stepped closer, then bent down and wrapped his arms around the boy, firm and steady.
"Everything will be okay," he said quietly. "I'm here. I'm with you."
The boy froze for a second—then leaned into the embrace before quickly pulling back.
The man turned to leave.
Before he could take more than a step, his sleeve was tugged.
He looked down.
The boy's fingers were clenched tightly around the fabric, knuckles pale.
"What is it?" the man asked gently, crouching to meet his eyes. "What happened?"
The boy swallowed. His chest rose sharply, and then—like a dam breaking—he blurted everything out. The plan. The risk. carefully hidden detail he had been carrying alone.
The room fell silent when he finished.
The man didn't speak right away.
His expression had gone still, but his eyes flickered—memories surfacing, the image of a much smaller child clinging to him years ago overlapping with the boy standing before him now.
"…Will you help me?" the boy asked, voice barely above a whisper.
The man straightened slowly.
He looked away.
"I…" His jaw tightened. "Give me some time. I'll think about it."
Then, without waiting for a reply, he gently freed his sleeve and walked out.
The door closed softly behind him.
That night, the boy lay in bed staring at the ceiling.
Sleep came—but not easily, and not peacefully.
Tomorrow was his birthday.
And everything might change.