"Do ’you’? What do you mean, James?" Eiran tilted his head, curiosity piqued.
"James," Zayden’s voice snapped, his gaze sharp and threatening.
His glare made James flinch instantly. The last time he saw such an expression was when James was caught spying.
"I-I’m sorry!" James stammered, bowing his head.
"Cover his ears." Zayden handed Eiran to Ren.
Although confused, Ren acted quickly, hands flying to cover the boy’s ears. He held them tightly, mindful of Eiran’s small frame. It was the first time Zayden had asked him to do this—after all, Ren had already developed it into a habit.
"Don’t say things like that in front of my child. Fill his head with dirt, and I will not forgive it," Zayden said, his voice sharp. A grin tugged at his lips, as if he were trying to suppress the urge to strike. He couldn’t Eiran an ugly sight, or else—he paused.
Why am I getting so worked up?
He questioned himself, unable to find an answer. This was unlike him.
Ren’s fingers trembled slightly. He had almost forgotten the rumors about Zayden’s ruthlessness. Those who said the general was kind might have been mistaken—this man was... devilish.
No wonder he has so many demonic strings.
Ren’s expression darkened.
A soft hand brushed against his own. He looked down to see Eiran, jade-like eyes wide and unblinking.
"What did dad say?" the child inquired, like any little boy would have.
Ren slowly lowered his hands.
"It’s nothing," he forced a smile.
"Really? James looks sad." Eiran tilted his head, but he didn’t wait for an answer. He scurried back to his father.
"Dad, did you scold James?"
"No. Does your dad look cruel? Do I scold people without reason?" Zayden patted the boy’s head. "Sit down and eat. You have classes, and we need to get back to work."
Ren stepped closer to James, whispering, "Why don’t you go eat?"
"No. What about you? You’ve been here all this time, preparing everything alone, haven’t you?"
"No, really. You can go ahead and eat."
"You will both eat with us!" Eiran exclaimed. He turned to his father.
Zayden forced a smile.
It was my attendant at first, now even my past attendant—why does my son like my servants more than me?
"Of course. Why not tell everyone in the mansion to eat with us?"
"CAN WE?!" the boy squealed. "I will go—"
"No, no. They will eat where they are supposed to," Zayden interrupted. He didn’t expect Eiran to actually go right now.
He is so unpredictable...
Eiran pouted, playing with the bread on his plate. He picked at small bits, placing them onto the ceramic surface.
"But the floors are cold."
"Floor?" Zayden scoffed. "Why are you talking about floors? Servants eat at the dining hall in their quarters. It is as large as this one. Why would someone—"
"But Papa used to eat on the floor!" Eiran interrupted, tears forming at the corner of his eyes. "That’s why I wanted Papa to eat with us!"
Zayden glanced at Ren, waiting for an answer that didn’t come. He inhaled slowly, forcing calm.
"Why would you do that?" His words barely stayed under his breath, holding back the anger surging inside him.
His servant couldn’t have been mistreated by others, could he?
James had never been bullied when he worked under him.
"Jian used to bully him with a group of men," James explained. "What could he do? And My Lord, do you think a man like him would speak up for himself? Thankfully, Hannah learned of it and dismissed them. Today, the newly hired group will take over their duties."
Zayden blinked, taken aback. He had never heard of this until now.
All this time, he had silently fulfilled his duties... and those servants? They dared to lay hands on him?
"Why didn’t anyone tell me? They shouldn’t have just been dismissed. I’d have cut off their arms so they wouldn’t touch my people," he muttered under his breath.
"Dad is right! Someone who hurt Papa deserves that!" Eiran slammed his little fists on the table, nodding fiercely, a frown on his once bright face.
Ren’s eyes widened. What was happening? Why were father and son speaking alike?
"Hold on, young man. What are you talking about?" Zayden leaned closer, eyes narrowing.
"Do you think I am still a baby? I’ve already finished reading The History of the Universe. And in that book, everyone slaughters whoever dares hurt their people," the child declared proudly, a bright smile lighting his face.
Ren’s stomach twisted. Was this the same child he had cradled in his arms months ago?
Even if nearly a year had passed, he shouldn’t have grown . Children should fear blood and death—especially those raised under the safe roof of General Zayden’s mansion. Or perhaps... it ran in the blood. The Lord was cruel. His son would be too... How could he forget?
Subconsciously, Ren bit his tongue while chewing bread. He groaned softly, hand covering his mouth. His mouth tasted like blood.
For a fleeting moment, he had begun to think the boy was his...
He crushed the thought at once.
No. My child is not here
He repeated it to himself, forcing down a glass of water before eating the food although his tongue burned.
The three men continued their conversation, but Ren barely heard a word. Every sound faded, as though he had gone deaf.
Zayden’s jaw tightened as he considered the boy’s words. Pride flickered in his eyes, but it was quickly shadowed by unease. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, staring at his son as though seeing him anew.
"History of the Universe, hm? That book wasn’t written for children."
"But I am not a child," Eiran insisted, puffing out his chest. "I have you and Papa. One day I will grow strong. I will protect our family just like you."
Ren’s fingers curled against his lap, nails digging into his skin.
The words used warm his entire being, yet now, they stabbed deeper than any blade. He kept his head lowered, afraid that if he met their gazes, his trembling mask would break apart. That they would uncover the secrets he had been hiding all this time.
"Protecting and killing are not the same," Zayden said at last, voice low, slightly rough. His gaze shifted toward Ren.
"You hear that? Even this child knows you should not endure abuse silently. People who harm you—should answer for it."
Ren froze, the bread in his hand forgotten.
Why... Why was he speaking like him?
He quickly forced a laugh that was closer to a cough, holding back the tears threatening to run down his cheeks.
"It was nothing, My Lord. Nothing unusual."
"Nothing unusual?" Zayden’s eyes darkened. "If a single finger dares to hurt one of my people, it is not nothing—it is an insult. Do you understand?"
Ren’s throat went dry. His people? Did he not suspect him? Wasn’t that why he was being unnecessarily kind to him?
He considers me his people... And I am...
Eiran’s small hand slipped into his, snapping him out of his deep thoughts.
"Papa, don’t worry. I will become strong like Dad. No one will ever bully you again."
The child’s warmth seeped into his skin, but all Ren could feel was a gnawing terror—because one day, he would betray the trust this boy placed in him.