Zayden stood at the window, holding a glass of wine. He watched Ren and James through the pane, sitting on the bench as they talked. Minutes had stretched into what felt like hours, yet the conversation showed no signs of ending.
"Watching your ex and... current interest get along?" a familiar voice teased.
Zayden didn’t look at him. His eyes flicked toward the training knights below, as if their presence could somehow prove Zion wrong.
"What nonsense, Zion? And why are you still here?"
"I wanted to see you one last time before leaving. I sent the knights to investigate," he answered, leaning against the wall, facing his friend.
"You can leave then."
"I will but... am I wrong, Zayden? You look... betrayed, seeing your old and new servant chatting like nothing ever happened. Like that Ren guy hadn’t killed James’ mate," Zion said, a sly grin tugging at his lips.
Zayden didn’t answer. He didn’t want to question how or why James had forgiven Ren. He was the one who had explained to him that Ren was innocent. Yet it still unsettled him. If someone had killed his mate—he paused.
He had never had one. He had never felt attracted to someone enough to mark them. Demons were emotionless by nature. They barely felt anything unless it was their fated mate. But finding the one bound by fate had become nothing less than a myth after living for centuries.
Could he truly understand how James must have felt?
He tried to dismiss the feeling, blaming it on James’s decision to betray him, even though he knew it wasn’t entirely true. Still, in politics, one had to appear persuasive to maintain control and stay in power.
He had been taught this in the palace years ago, and the lesson remained with him even now.
"That was his choice. I don’t believe it’s any of our concerns."
"Yes, of course," Zion clicked his tongue, tilting his head slightly.
"But this new attendant of yours... there’s something about him. He appears suspicious no matter how I look at him. I heard he used to live in the forest. How can someone survive there? It’s filled with savage beasts. If your soldiers hadn’t kept a protective shield with their magic, then—"
"You’re talking nonsense. He is not harmful. He is just a human."
The words slipped out before Zayden realized it.
"How do you know? He could be plotting some trick. I thought you’d learned your lesson."
"He is a beta. He can’t harm me..." Zayden’s jaw tightened, and his gaze drifted back to Ren. For the first time, he wanted his suspicions to be wrong. He wanted to be mistaken—to prove that Ren was innocent. He was just a little unusual. Not a traitor.
"Defending him?" Zion raised an eyebrow. "His Imperial Highness, defending a servant? I never thought I’d live to see the day."
"Shut up," Zayden finally glanced at the blond-haired man. "You’ve grown bold—and rude—since I left you to your rut alone."
Zion laughed lightly, bowing just enough to tease without disrespect. "I apologize, truly. I respect you, always. But... this new one? Keep him close, and you’re inviting trouble. He’s not what he seems. You know that as well as I do."
"You’re overthinking it," Zayden said dismissively, facing the window.
Zion’s grin softened into a quiet sigh. The General had begun trusting the servant—though perhaps he was letting himself be fooled for reasons only he understood.
"I hope I am... because..." He didn’t finish his sentence, glaring at Ren and James, far from the building.
If Zayden refused to investigate him thoroughly, he would take matters into his own hands. He couldn’t stand by and watch his friend be betrayed over and over again. He was certain that by this point, Zayden had lost trust in every human—greedy for power and wealth, worse than demons. However, he must have been mistaken, because Zayden still searched for ways to trust someone.
Why are you so eager to get betrayed?
It was as if he constantly wanted to be proved wrong, pushing the limits of his trust. At least once, by a human—that not all of them were power-hungry.
As soon as Zayden entered the mansion, a row of servants bowed in unison. His eyes drifted toward the garden’s road, searching for Eiran. Usually, the moment he entered the building, the boy would sprint straight to him—and Ren.
Ren and James trailed close behind, while the guards followed, swords sheathed in polished scabbards at their waists.
The hallway stretched endlessly, its silence pressing in—until Zayden’s eyes caught a tall, familiar figure standing before his large golden-framed portrait.
"My Lord?" James’s low voice came from behind.
Just as Zayden stepped forward, movement at his side drew his attention.
Ren’s expression had tightened, fear flickering in his eyes. His hand hovered near the sword mounted on the wall as decoration, fingers twitching as though already curled around the hilt.
A person from the temple? But... their attire is nothing like that...
Zayden was taken aback, studying him closely.
He glanced back at the man, no more than ten meters away.
Does he truly look so frightening?
He cleared his throat, a sharp cough cutting the silence.
"Attendant. Calm yourself. He is no threat."
Ren flinched, then forced a polite smile, lowering his hand and folding it neatly behind his back.
"I was not doing anything," he lied smoothly, though his gaze locked stubbornly with Zayden’s.
His fingers curled against his palm, aching for the weapon after hours spent earlier swinging it. It had been months since the last time he used it. Now, the familiarity still urged him to hold the blade.
Habits are hard to get rid of...
The General did not press further. Gradually, he understood one thing—his attendant was a perfectliar. He deceived just as neatly as he did his duties without flaws.
However, now, there were more urgent matters at hand.
"Stay here," he ordered the servants before approaching the red-haired young man.
"What brings you here, Your Royal Highness?" Zayden bowed, his tone surprisingly respectful.