Ren rubbed soap all over his body, cleaning himself. He scrubbed his skin harshly with his hands, as if to wash away something that had been stained.
Over and over.
He continued to do so until tears began to stream down his cheeks. The warm liquid now fell into the cold water.
Zayden had prepared a warm bath, but it had cooled down—not because it was meant to, but because Ren had turned off the hearth beneath the bathtub that kept the water from cooling during winter.
"Why?" he muttered to himself.
Why did he bring up Ilyan?
His chest stung painfully. The hurt he felt now suffocated his lungs—it was worse than when he had been stabbed by the Temple’s guards.
That name would never leave him. It would haunt him—perhaps until death. Ren didn’t mind it.
However, just when he had begun to slowly, gradually welcome happiness, he was dragged back to the beginning.
He realized he still couldn’t hold a proper conversation about Ilyan. He still couldn’t forget the moment of his death unfolding right before his eyes. And the guilt? It returned like winter after summer.
He had forgotten that he didn’t—shouldn’t—be so happy. Not when someone had died for him.
Ren’s fingers curled against his skin, nails digging in until faint red marks bloomed beneath the soap.
The cold no longer registered. If anything, he felt like he deserved it.
He bowed his head, shoulders trembling as silent sobs broke from his chest.
Ilyan.
The name echoed soundlessly in his mind. He could still see it—blood soaking into the ground, eyes dimming as life slipped away, a body collapsing because Ren had been too weak, too slow... and merely human.
"I am sorry..." The words dissolved the moment they left his lips.
Apologies were meaningless now.
In his dream, Ilyan had told him that moving on wasn’t betraying him. Then why did it still feel that way?
Maybe it was not true. Maybe he never saw Ilyan in his dream. Maybe he was just... making things up for his own sanity for betraying him.
He had begun to love Zayden. Perhaps more than he realized—otherwise his words wouldn’t have hurt so deeply. Not like this. Not about this.
He was conflicted. He didn’t know what was right or wrong. He never had—he was never taught.
His throat tightened. Happiness felt like a betrayal. Every soft touch, every gentle word from Zayden felt like something Ren had no right to accept.
And yet... his body didn’t listen.
***
Enzo was pacing down the hallway when his gaze fell on Yusha’s bedroom. He knocked lightly on the already open door.
Yusha, who had been embroidering a handkerchief, lifted his head in surprise.
"Lord Enzo?" he murmured. "What brings you here?"
The tap of Enzo’s cane against the marble floor echoed through the room with each step he took forward, entering the hall with a faint smile.
He lowered himself onto a chair beside Yusha, the wood creaking softly beneath his weight.
Yusha hesitated before folding the handkerchief with care and setting it aside.
"So," Enzo said, glancing at the spot where the needle had been moments ago, "you know how to do this too?"
Yusha nodded.
"I... kind of learned it while working under—" He stopped, fingers curling slightly as a name surfaced in his mind.
Count Liam.
The memories refused to fade, no matter how hard he tried to push them away. Not when that man was the only person Yusha had ever loved—and the father of the child growing quietly within his womb.
"You can’t forget him, can you?" Enzo said, his voice low.
Yusha swallowed hard and lowered his gaze. He couldn’t bring himself to accept it.
Not when that person had hurt him so deeply.
"You know..." Enzo continued after a moment, "even I can’t forget my late husband. Well—if you can call him that." He scoffed softly. "He was nothing like a good husband. Yet..."
"Do alpha pheromones still cause you trouble?" Yusha asked, lifting his eyes with quiet curiosity.
He wasn’t sure if now was the right time to ask, but the question slipped out before he could stop himself.
Enzo’s eyes widened briefly. He hadn’t expected it.
He turned his head, gaze dropping to the floor, then nodded.
"I don’t know how to get over this..."
"Why don’t you talk to the General about it?" Yusha suggested. "He would surely help you."
Enzo chuckled and shook his head.
"Of course he would. But I can’t keep troubling him with my own issues." He paused, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Haven’t you seen how happy he and Ren have been lately?"
Yusha blinked, unable to answer.
He had seen it—if only briefly—when he returned to the mansion.
After a short silence, Enzo continued.
"How could I allow myself to worry them when they’ve already suffered enough because of me?" His voice softened. "They helped me get a divorce—break that stupid bond. What more can I expect from them?"
Yusha bit his lip, studying Enzo’s face.
He was right. The two of them had done so much for both of them, and they were still doing more by letting them stay here as if it were their own house.
"I have decided," Yusha murmured.
Enzo looked up, one eyebrow lifting.
"And... what exactly have you decided?"
"I will ask the General to allow me to work as a servant for as long as I remain here," the violet-haired omega said, his voice steady, gaze unwavering.
Titling his head to the side, Enzo chuckled.
"My, would you? I talked to the General. And he said once you give birth, he will send you away from here."
Yusha furrowed his eyebrows, taken aback. He hadn’t heard of this from Ren at all.
"Huh?"
"I mean you should relax for now. You can repay them later. You have been through a lot," Enzo smiled softly, patting the other man’s shoulder.
Yusha remained silent for a moment. It was hard to accept this much kindness. He wasn’t used to it.
Still, this was the best option for his child and the General knew it better than anyone else.