"I don’t believe this!" Zayden slammed his hand on the table, the plates rattling.
Ren stood frozen, unsure if he had done the right thing. From Zayden’s reaction, at least, it seemed Eiran had been mistaken... He clearly cared.
His gaze flicked to the plates, pushed out of place. His hands twitched, itching to fix them. The General never minded mess, but this much disorder scraped against Ren’s nerves. He always put things back in order, even when Zayden told the servants to leave them. Strangely, despite disobeying, he was never scolded.
Zayden’s jaw tightened, his sharp red eyes narrowing as they found Ren. He wanted to ask why the boy thought such a thing—but the one with answers was Eiran.
He pushed back his chair and strode out without saying another word.
The tall figure brushed against Ren, leaving him blinking, then moving to follow without question. He was used to it.
He only needed to follow.
The General’s steps halted before Eiran’s door. He knocked twice. A faint, "Come in," came through.
The room inside was pitch black, curtains drawn tight, no light seeping through.
With a snap of his fingers, flames sprang to life, candles flaring one by one as shadows fled from the walls. It was neatly arranged, as though untouched.
The candles rested in golden sconces fixed along the walls, their glow softening the darkness. In the center stood a wide bed with a thick, soft mattress, its covers carefully smoothed. Beside it, a small nightstand held more candles, their flames dancing in unison. Against the far wall, a fireplace stood cold and unused, since the night carried no chill, no freezing breeze.
Ren stilled, caught off guard. He didn’t recall ever seeing the General use magic before.
The servants often whispered about how much he hated using his powers.
"Dad? Papa?" Eiran whispered, seated on the bed, eyes wide in the dim light. He hadn’t expected them tonight—not after what he overheard.
"I heard some interesting news," Zayden said, exhaling as he sat beside him.
Eiran tilted his head, uncertain.
"I heard you think I would abandon you?"
The boy scratched his neck, looking from Ren to Zayden. He knew where he heard the news from.
"Well... Hannah asked you. And you didn’t say anything."
Zayden’s brows lifted.
"So you left? Without asking me? Without waiting to hear the rest?"
The child nodded, gaze sinking to his lap.
Ren bit down on his lip, fists tight at his sides. He couldn’t bear to hear more.
"Why are you asking him that? Who would want to hear more after this?" His voice cut in, steady, though tension coiled beneath it.
Zayden glanced at his servant before looking back at his son.
"It is time I tell you the truth."
Eiran’s gaze flickered upwards, curious.
"You can read books meant for adults now, right?"
"You can use a sword, even if wooden."
Once again, Eiran nodded.
The boy narrowed his eyes, trying to grasp the connection between all these, and what his Dad wanted to tell him.
"Listen to me," he inhaled deeply. It was time he told him the truth.
Eiran would have known at some point. However, now was the right moment. Before the banquet, before he met anyone who could brainwash him. After all, nothing was easier than manipulating a child.
"Why are you beating around the bush?" Eiran asked, waiting for Zayden to continue, impatient. The most update n0vels are published on novel★fire.net
The General parted his lips to speak, only to close them again. He stood from the bed, strode up and down the hall for a moment.
Ren and Eiran exchanged a confused gaze, both wondering what Zayden wanted to say.
"Dad," Eiran broke the silence, impatient. "Tell me what you want to say. As you said, I have grown."
"Actually, you are not my son," Zayden spoke rapidly, clenched hands raised in the air. His breath caught in his throat for a moment, then he inhaled, exhaling deeply.
"There. I said it..." He released the clenched fists. Finally, the secret he had been keeping was out.
Eyes wide, Ren stepped back once. Just then, his body froze instantly. His heart raced faster than before.
A heavy silence lingered in the hall, and neither of them spoke. Ren blinked, mouth slightly open.
What did he mean by that?
Eiran wasn’t his son?
Then why did he tell everyone so?
Why did he treat the child so well—that no one would believe what he just said was true?
Ren’s hands trembled slightly, though he tried to steady them. His mind raced, trying to make sense of Zayden’s words.
Eiran isn’t his child... yet he treats him like he is. So kindly. How could this be?
Zayden’s lips pressed into a thin line, and his shoulders stiffened. There was anger there, but also something else—something Ren couldn’t quite name. Relief, perhaps,
"You—" Ren started, but his voice faltered.
He glanced at Eiran, seated on the bed, who did not flinch, not cry, not tremble. His small fingers tightened on the blanket, but his gaze stayed steady.
"I know," Eiran whispered.
A heavy silence hung in the air, as if dark and heavy clouds hovered in the sky during a complete summer. Even the candles seemed to burn more quietly.
Zayden froze, the words cutting deeper than he expected.
Ren blinked, startled. He hadn’t known the boy was aware—even he didn’t know.
"You knew?" Zayden’s voice was low, strained.
"From the moment I could think, I knew you were not my Dad." His gaze locked with Zayden’s, lips trembling, but his eyes refused to look away.
"I was simply shocked when you said I was not a pureblood... I feared you’d abandon me, not call me your son if I was not useful to you. After all, I can’t afford to leave this mansion," he looked at Ren.
Ren’s throat tightened. He wanted to speak, to question him, but this was not his place. The boy seemed to have carried a weight on his shoulders for a long time. The weight of secrets. And he knew better than anyone how crushing it could become.
Zayden sat beside him. His hand hovered, then finally rested on the boy’s head. His touch was firm, almost clumsy.
"You are my son," he said, smiling softly. The words carried the weight of an oath. "No matter whose blood runs in your veins."
Ren watched in silence. He was not a part of this. Yet, for some reason, his heart that had been racing relentlessly finally seemed to have found peace.
"I will be gone for a while," Zayden announced.
Eiran tilted his head.
"Your Dad needs to work to make money. Or else you will not be able to enjoy the luxury you have now," Ren said, catching Zayden and Eiran off guard.
"D-Did you just make a joke?" the two asked in disbelief, eyes wide.
Although Ren didn’t answer, the two chuckled.
They assumed it was Ren’s clumsy attempt to lighten the atmosphere, although the person in question didn’t understand why they laughed.
However, it seemed that it wasn’t needed. This pair of father and son, despite not being related by blood, shared a common personality—almost anything could make them laugh their lungs out.
Then suddenly, Ren recalled Zayden saying he had killed Eiran’s mother...