"Why do they have numbers? Do they forget their names?" Eiran asked, looking up at Ren.
Ren’s shoulders stiffened. He pressed a finger gently against Eiran’s wrist, a silent plea to hush.
He knew far too well why numbers were used. He had a number too, back in Hianshu.
The pheromones spilling in the room grew heavier and stronger, drifting through his nostrils, and his breath caught. Even if he was immune to one or two alphas, this much pheromone could easily trigger a heat! Mostly now that the effect of the mark seemed to have faded. He had to increase his dosage to keep his heats and pheromones in control.
"I-I need to step outside," he blurted, springing to his feet and quickly stepping out without waiting for the Crown Prince’s answer.
Soren tilted his head, confused. Why did it seem like he had run away?
The Crown Prince curled his hands into fists, glaring at all those who had been spreading pheromones to assert dominance while the omegas, including himself, restrained themselves. Had they lost their minds?
"Now then," he clasped his hands, forcing a polite smile. "How about you get some rest? I am certain you are tired."
Without waiting for their answer, Soren called for a maid.
Shortly after, a woman knocked on the door and entered the room with her head bowed, greeting everyone in the hall.
"Escort the guests to their rooms."
She nodded in response.
The delegation looked at each other, standing from their seats. They bowed before following the maid.
Zayden remained seated, arms crossed, while Eiran took a bite of the biscuits on the table no one had touched.
"Zayden," Soren narrowed his eyes, furrowing his brows. "What was that? Why were you spreading pheromones like that?"
The Imperial General scratched his cheek slightly. He hadn’t done it on purpose—he had been having a hard time controlling them whenever Ren was around. Although earlier, he had been a little triggered by the sight of these men. They were the reason why he had lost countless friends and—
"Get a hold of yourself!" Soren gently rubbed his fingers against his forehead. All this had been doing nothing but giving him a headache!
"I apologize..." Zayden lowered his head. At times when Soren was irritated, it was better not to stir up a fight with him. The sight of Eiran reminded him of Ren. He gasped. Ren was in the room too! Soren was strong, he was trained to control himself in situations where numerous alphas spread pheromones, however, it wasn’t the same for Ren.
Worried, he tried to stand up but a groan left his mouth.
"Are you hurt somewhere?!" Soren gasped, quickly turning toward his younger brother.
Zayden held tightly onto the chair’s armrest.
"Of course," he chuckled. The pain was bearable; he was simply taken by surprise when the back of the chair grazed against his injured skin. Perhaps it was the Linyong—used to hunt demons, only found in Hianshu.
But how did these people get it?
He wondered without saying it aloud. He couldn’t worry his older brother more than he already was.
"If you say so..." Soren sighed, although unsure if his brother was telling the truth.
"Can you have Eiran sent to his room?"
"Sure, but where are you—"
Before Soren could finish, Zayden was already gone.
***
In Duke Danman’s mansion, the hallways were silent as if only the dead lived there. A few servants quietly finished cleaning the hallways when they noticed a group of men dressed in black following the butler. Some had their clothes torn while others limped, stumbling occasionally.
However, none of them were surprised. It was almost a routine to see injured people in this place.
The butler knocked on the door, waiting for permission to enter.
"Who is it?" Duke Danman asked, his voice muffled by the wooden door.
"It is me, Hans," the elderly man stated.
"Come in."
The door swung open. Inside the study hall, the Duke sat across from another man—Count Zilyns. A table where the board of a chess game stood. The two were far too focused on the game to notice the group of men waiting at the entrance.
"You should protect your pawns," Count Zilyns said, a grin on his face as he eliminated a pawn.
The Duke didn’t answer, moving his queen.
"Checkmate," he sneered, his gaze not leaving the chessboard.
The count gasped in disbelief. He... Lord?! How could that be? He was certain the Duke only had a few pieces left—
"Pawns need to be sacrificed in order to win," Duke Danman said, folding his arms.
Then, he turned toward his butler. He had sensed his pheromones the moment he entered the door but chose to ignore them.
"What is it?"
"W-Well..." The butler stepped aside, letting the Duke catch a glimpse of his men.
Coughing to clear his throat, the Duke rose from his seat.
"I believe it is getting late."
The count nodded, glancing at his clock.
"I should return before my wife starts worrying," he laughed softly, standing up from his chair. He bowed, bidding the Duke farewell before exiting the study hall. His gaze fell on the group of strangers but he didn’t pay them much attention.
"Why are you here already?" Turning toward them, Duke Danman demanded.
After a brief silence, he asked, "Is the job done?"
"W-Well, the General got stabbed..." one of them hesitantly answered.
The Duke’s lips widened into a bright smile, although still in disbelief. He had handed over a blade that could harm a demon—even kill them if used properly.
"Is he dead?!" The Duke’s voice was strangely soft. Nothing like what they had heard.
"H-He fell on the ground—"
"Is he dead?" Slowly, his tone rose, his blood flowing through his veins faster—almost boiling.
"He was injured—"
"Useless!" Duke Danman growled, scattering the chessboard on the floor in one harsh blow.
"W-We apologize!" The men knelt, pressing their heads against the floor, shoulders trembling in fear.
"Forget it," the Duke clicked his tongue. "He must have arrived in Revhara by now. He will take care of the rest."
The men slowly rose, still shaking and seated on the floor.
"He?" One dared to ask, his voice slightly above a whisper.
The Duke grinned without answering. If that person succeeded, he was promised all the wealth he desired. And who was foolish enough to refuse such a deal?
"You attacked the first group of the delegation, right?"
They nodded.
"He will arrive separately. After all, he is the IIIrd High Priest of Hianshu."
The assassins glanced at each other, clueless. Matters related to Hianshu had always been a mystery. So how come the Duke knew so much? Was he in contact with one of them? Was that how he got hold of a Linyong, the weapon used to haunt demons in Hianshu?