CHAPTER 43: 43 — A RED ROSE

Night had already fallen, the warm summer wind brushing against Zayden’s face as he walked along the marble road.

He had gone to the royal palace today, finally visiting his family. They were all so delighted to see him that they barely let him leave until earlier.

The guards opened the mansion doors for him. Their postures were far too straight—stiffer than usual. Zayden didn’t linger on it, continuing to enter the building.

The silent hallway greeted him inside. Few servants lingered, but they turned away the moment his gaze swept over them. Most had already retreated to their rooms—it was already the second half of the night.

Everything appeared quiet until he noticed two maids rushing with a bowl of water toward Eiran’s bedroom, not far from his.

He halted them sharply. "What’s going on?"

"Y-Young Master Eiran... h-h has a high fever," one stammered, her eyes tightly closed.

Who knew what the general would do after learning that? It wasn’t hidden from anyone in the mansion that the general was overprotective of his son more than his sword which he rarely let others touch.

Zayden’s heartbeat dropped.

"What?! And no one cared to notify me?!"

Without waiting for an answer, he dashed toward Eiran’s room.

He swung the door open—then froze.

Ren was sitting by the child’s bedside, leaning close as though the boy’s very life depended on him.

"...Papa?" Eiran’s weak voice rang out.

Zayden’s breath caught, his heart sinking.

He called him first?..

He stood by the doorframe in silence, watching.

"...Don’t go... Please? I’m sorry..." Eiran’s lashes fluttered weakly, his body shaking.

The servant leaned in at once, brushing the hair from the boy’s forehead. "I’m not going anywhere," he said firmly.

"R-Really?" A weak smile tugged at Eiran’s lips, one barely ever directed at Zayden, followed by a cough.

"Yes, yes. Just... have some water now." Ren pulled the boy up against the pillows, helping him sip from the glass.

"I-I apologize, Young Master! I shouldn’t have—"

"Eiran," the child corrected, voice still trembling.

Ren frowned.

Zayden’s arms dropped at his side.

"Stop calling me that. I am your son, am I not?" Tears welled up, streaming down his flushed cheeks.

Ren’s hand hovered in the air, aching to wipe them away. But it stopped midway.

"Why aren’t you saying anything, Papa?!" Eiran sobbed.

Zayden swallowed hard. He didn’t know Eiran held such a strong attachment towards this servant.

To the point he would cry for him...

He stepped closer.

"Tell him," his deep voice came from behind.

Both Ren and Eiran turned his way, puzzled.

General Zayden stood before them, his expression shadowed by the darkness in the room, only two candles lighting the hall.

"Tell him that he is indeed your son," he said, the words pressed through his teeth, as though he were suppressing something heavier than anger.

"M-My Lord?" Ren whispered.

Zayden’s gaze swept over them—the boy clinging to Ren’s hand, his expression saying: I won’t let go, while the servant froze with guilt.

His lips pressed into a thin line, but his voice came again, low and steady.

"He called you ’Papa.’ He doesn’t care about bloodlines, ranks, or titles. He chose you as his father."

"No! He is not my son! My child!... I need to find—" Ren bit his tongue, eyes widening at the realization of his words.

"What?" Zayden furrowed his brows.

"Papa?.." Eiran’s voice cracked. "D-Don’t say that," he sobbed. "P-Please..." He wailed.

"He is your papa, he was joking," Zayden forced a smile, brushing away Ren’s words for the moment. Right now, it was more important to stop his son’s tears.

"Right?" His voice was deep, sharp, he turned toward Ren.

"Yes," Ren responded in a dry tone.

He had almost revealed the truth. How could he be so emotional?

I thought all my feelings died with him... And this child... If my child were with me, would he have cried just like that if I refused to admit that he was my child?

There was no answer to that question.

***

The next morning, Eiran’s routine was no different. He had breakfast, attended his classes. But there was one thing missing—Ren’s presence. He wanted to search for his papa: however, fear held him back. What if, just like last night, Ren pushed him away? His chest stung, his heart throbbing extremely for the first time. He never felt this.

Ren left the room soon after Zayden visited Eiran.

"Dad didn’t even say anything about Papa and just left," Eiran grumbled, pacing in the garden.

He often visited the place with his servants, admiring the blooming flowers. His gaze fell on a red rose, almost similar to the spell of fire he learned with Celine earlier. The sun was not burning hot today, hiding behind dark clouds.

"It will rain soon it seems," Rhys spoke softly.

"Maybe," Eiran responded, picking the rose from the field of flowers.

"You will hurt yourself, Young Master!—" Rhys gasped, trying to stop Eiran, but too late.

"It’s fine," the boy smiled.

"Why did you do that? You don’t usually pick up flowers," The servant asked.

Eiran grinned without saying a word. He slid his fingertips lower, tapping them on the thorns until blood stained his skin.

"YOUNG MASTER! You are bleeding!"

"I know."

Rhys frowned, jaw dropping in disbelief.

The boy looked up at the man, flashing his teeth.

Chills ran down Rhys’ spine.

"Everyone in this mansion is crazy," he cried inwardly.

When he was first assigned to Eiran, the child was only a few months old. But he grew fast, faster than any being Rhys ever met.

The boy appeared angelic, pretty. But sometimes, he behaved strangely, almost inhumanely.

"Must be the demon blood running in his veins..." Rhys told himself, as if to reassure himself that it couldn’t be that bad. However, now, he failed to understand why the child was hurting himself.

It didn’t take long for his question to be answered.

Eiran headed towards the general’s study room.

It was the day Zayden didn’t go to work, the day he dedicated to his son for the past few months.

"Dad!" He knocked at the door.

The door opened and before the little boy stood Ren.

Eiran jumped on him instantly.

"Papaa!"

Ren flinched, hesitantly looking at Zayden, who didn’t frown like he usually did.

"I missed you! Why didn’t you come see me today?" He pouted.

"I...I had some work to finish," Ren explained, locking gaze with Eiran.

Lies.

Eiran forced a smile, extending the rose he had picked earlier.

"Here! For you!"

Ren tilted his head, gaze drifting towards his hand, letting out a loud gasp.

"Y-You’re hurt!" Hands trembling, he took the rose from the boy’s hands, throwing it on the ground.

"Oh?" Eiran looked up at Ren. "I didn’t notice," he chuckled.

Zayden, sitting on the couch, arched an eyebrow. What was wrong with Eiran today?

He shouldn’t be behaving like this after he got hurt... A child would have wailed their heart out.

He narrowed his eyes.