- Five Years Later -
He stood in the empty room. The one he hated even rembering, white walls, white curtains, that always made him sick. Then, a pair of boots caught his eye, echoing in the distance, slowly approaching him.
Ren froze. The man before him—Ilyan—smiled brightly at him.
He’d seen the sun shine, but not brighter than the man’s smile.
"I thought you hated this place," Ilyan said, his expression grim and the corner of his lips dropping.
Ren quickly walked toward him, reaching for the man’s hands only to gasp. They were cold as if they had been dipped in a bucket of ice.
"What? Have you gotten used to the sumr, the warmth and can’t bear the cold now?"
The words stung in his chest, but Ren couldn’t argue. With trembling hands, eyes damp, he locked gazes with Ilyan’s bright green eyes.
"I-I found him." His voice cracked, a mixture of joy, excitent and sorrow.
"Who?"
"Our child!" Tears stread down his face, a wide grin forming on his face. "I found our child." He laughed, then cried again, shutting his eyes. He bit his lips as he tried to control the turmoil of emotions within him.
The joy, the fear, the pain...
When he opened his eyes, the man had disappeared. And so did the light in the room, leaving him in complete darkness.
"Ilyan?" He called out, but only the echo of his own voice answered him.
"Ilyan?!"
Ren jolted from the bed. He looked around—nothing was truly white here. Everything was decorated with vibrant paintings, portraits, and even the wall was colored a light yellow, as if capturing sumr forever.
"Papa?" Eiran rubbed his eyes, looking up at him. Still lying on the bed, he tugged on Ren’s sleeve.
Ren gasped. Did Eiran hear that?
However, looking at him, it seems I didn’t speak loudly...
"Are you awake?" Zayden, who stepped out of the bathroom, asked.
Ren nodded, quickly getting off the bed.
"I apologize for oversleeping—"
Zayden sighed. He didn’t ask him that to get an apology! He clenched his fists, frustrated yet unable to say a word. If he said sothing, this man would only say, "I apologize."
Again.
"Go get ready. We need to head for the training camp."
"But look at the weather!" Eiran groaned, sitting straight on the mattress.
"Yes. But work is work," Zayden grinned. "Rember what your Papa said? If I stop working, you will no longer be enjoying this luuuxurious life." He chuckled inwardly but pressed his clenched fist against his mouth to fake a cough.
Ren’s cheeks flustered slightly, his face hiding behind his hair.
"How does he still rember that?..." He groaned under his breath, making sure the pair of father and son hadn’t heard him.
Once he quickly regained his composure, he looked at Zayden.
He only looks good. It would be better if he didn’t speak.
***
Grey clouds hung over the training camp. Outside, snow poured down, large flakes striking the ground as the wind shrieked.
All sword practice had been moved indoors.
Including Ren’s.
The silver-haired man swung his blade with ease now. His posture had been corrected over the past five years under the General’s guidance.
Zayden clapped his hands, a bright grin on his face.
"You have improved imnsely."
Ren glanced at the others whose gazes had shifted toward him. He grimaced at the unwanted attention. He didn’t like it when Zayden praised him for every little thing—was it his new way of teasing him? He wasn’t sure.
A knight bowed, stepping beside Zayden. "Sir, there is a snowstorm coming."
The General turned to the window, arms folded. He nodded before asking, "Can we return to the mansion until then?"
The knight lowered his gaze, shaking his head.
"I am afraid not."
"Alright. Make sure everyone returns to their dorms."
"What about you, My Lord?"
"Prepare a room for and my attendant. There should be so spares now that Helaine and the others have left on a mission."
The knight nodded and went to inform the soldiers of the General’s order.
Hearing this, Ren walked toward Zayden, sword still in hand.
Zayden chuckled, stepping back.
"Are you trying to kill , Ren?"
Ren didn’t react, though hearing his na from Zayden’s lips was sothing he still wasn’t used to.
"What about Eiran?"
Zayden stepped forward, leaning close to Ren’s face. The soldiers had already left the training ground and now, they were the only ones who remained in the hall. He brushed a strand of hair from Ren’s eyes. The servant stood firm, gaze locked with his, unwavering.
"Is he all you care about?"
"Is there soone else I should care for?"
His reply ca out like a question. Too direct.
.
Zayden wanted to say it, but the words stuck in his throat. He still couldn’t bring himself to confess to this emotionless man. It felt as though all of Ren’s affection was reserved for Eiran. At first, Zayden had thought it a good thing. But later he realized he held no place in Ren’s heart.
"My Lord?"
Ren’s cold, distant voice snapped him back. Zayden gently caressed the servant’s cheek, brushing away beads of sweat with his thumb.
"You say you hate sweating but... you look beautiful even like this."
For a mont, Ren blinked, his cheeks flushed a faint pink before he turned away, fists clenched.
"My Lord, why?..."
"Why, what?"
Ren shook his head, unable to ask why Zayden’s deanor had changed so much. Ever since they’d found Eiran five years ago, he had been acting strangely. Yet Ren couldn’t recall the General being injured in that fight to explain this behavior, nor had he questioned further the strange deaths of the kidnappers.
It didn’t make sense. General Zayden would pay attention to every little thing. Hence, instead of feeling relieved, Ren remained on guard.
Zayden had been watching him. Often, Ren seed on the verge of saying sothing only to remain silent.
Was he trying to tell the truth—that he was an oga?
During training, Zayden had felt Ren’s pheromones countless tis. There were monts he wanted nothing more than to embrace him, bite his neck, and mark him... as his.
But he held back.
They say the taste of patience is sweet. But how long must I wait until he falls for ?
He had tried countless tricks. Forcing him to sleep by his and Eiran’s side each night. He was delighted that the child’s growth was normal, human-like, looking no older than twelve now instead of maturing like a dragon’s offspring.
Yet ti pressed on. The boy had already begun insisting on sleeping alone, claiming he was grown. If Zayden hadn’t frightened him with tales of ghosts haunting the mansion, Eiran would have been in his own room two years ago—ever since eting a friend who boasted of sleeping without his parents.
I’ve stooped so low for you, Ren... To the point of even scaring a child...
Zayden bit his lip.
How ridiculous.
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