Chapter 138: 138 — Get The Emperor’s Attention

The physician pressed two fingers against Ren’s wrist, eyes narrowing in concentration. A few moments passed before he released the omega’s hand and turned toward Zayden, shaking his head.

"Nothing seems unusual, My Lord."

"What?" Zayden frowned. "Then why do his pheromones keep going out of control? And don’t tell me these are his heats." His voice carried a sharp edge, frustration lacing through every word.

The royal physician hesitated, his brows furrowing. Something in Zayden’s tone made him recall the rare, unsettling cases he’d heard whispered about in the past—conditions that only appeared among omegas with broken bonds.

"Could it be that..." he began carefully, his voice trembling slightly as his eyes flickered toward Ren.

"That—what?" Zayden arched an eyebrow.

The physician swallowed hard. His mouth went dry. How could he tell him? That the man he seemed to worry about more than anyone else might once have had a mate—and lost them? That what Zayden mistook for an illness could be grief written into his very scent?

"Physician," Zayden’s voice hardened, sharper than before, dragging him out of hesitation.

"It could be because his mate has died," the elderly man finally blurted.

Ren’s breath hitched. His lips parted softly, then closed again.

So the effect of the mark is fading away...

His gaze lowered, a sorrowful smile forming at the corner of his lips.

"How could that be?" Zayden demanded. "His mate died over five years ago. Right, Ren?"

He turned toward him—and froze. He had seen Ren with empty eyes before, but he couldn’t bear seeing them filled with such sorrow. It was like watching a wound reopen before his very eyes.

"Five years?" The physician repeated, visibly startled. "That shouldn’t be possible... unless—" His voice faltered as he turned toward the omega. "Was he your fated mate?"

Ren hesitated before nodding faintly. "Six years," he said quietly.

"Pardon?" The physician leaned closer, unsure he’d heard correctly. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

"It has been six years since he... died." His throat felt dry; he swallowed, forcing the words out before they broke apart.

The physician slowly rose from his chair, bowing his head. "I see. That explains the irregular fluctuations. I’ll prepare a stabilizer to ease his condition."

Zayden nodded silently, his expression unreadable. He wanted to ask a thousand questions, but none would have mattered—not when Ren looked so fragile. And he swore to himself that he could wait until the omega opened up to him.

He stepped back. A soft groan escaped him when he accidentally hit the wall.

Ren drew in a quiet breath, forcing a small smile as he turned toward Zayden.

"I apologize, my lord. I forgot about your wound... and now the royal physician is busy with me when he should look after you."

"My wound?" Zayden arched an eyebrow, as if trying to recall when he was even hurt. He barely felt the pain just now.

Then, the memory of the sudden attack during their journey to the palace flickered in his mind.

"Ah," he said simply, voice calm and detached. "It’s nothing." He smiled faintly. "I’ve stopped feeling pain."

I need to talk to the Emperor about this... Why was there a Linyong in Revhara in the first place?

He clenched his jaw.

Ren’s brows furrowed slightly.

"But it still burns sometimes, doesn’t it? Did you change the bandage?"

Zayden froze. He hadn’t expected Ren to notice—much less read him so easily. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say.

"...It does," he admitted softly. "And I will have that changed. Just get better."

Ren’s gaze flickered toward him, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You worry too much about me..."

And Zayden smiled again—this time, not to hide anything, but because hearing those words made his chest feel unexpectedly warm.

"Friends worry for friends. Isn’t that why you also worry about my injury?"

Ren blinked before nodding.

"Right..."

***

The High Priests gathered in the audience hall where the Emperor had summoned them. They had been waiting for over three hours, yet the man in question was nowhere to be seen.

"Is this some kind of jest?" Charles slammed his hand on the table in front of him, the sharp sound echoing through the vast chamber.

His disciples flinched, fear flickering across their faces.

"Your Holiness... please keep calm," one of them stammered. Even though they feared Charles’ temper, words like those could spell disaster if the Emperor—or worse, his guards—overheard them.

Charles let out a dry hmph, crossing his legs with practiced arrogance.

Across from him, Enzo sat quietly, his gaze fixed on the old man with poorly hidden irritation.

If he couldn’t wait for the Emperor, why request an audience in the first place?

He mocked inwardly, biting back the words that hovered at the tip of his tongue. He knew all too well what would happen if he spoke them aloud. Punishment under Charles was... crueller than death.

"Enzo, honey," Charles cooed suddenly, turning toward him as if he had only just realized his presence.

"Yes?.." Enzo’s voice came out lower than intended, cautious.

"Why don’t you try to get the Emperor’s attention on our needs?" The old man’s smile didn’t reach his eyes—it was sharp, venomous.

Enzo froze. His breath hitched, stomach twisting in revulsion. He knew far too well what Charles truly meant by that.

Disgusting. Disgusting. Disgusting.

"He is like a father to me," Enzo managed to say, his fists clenching tightly beneath the table. His voice trembled—not from fear, but from barely restrained fury.

Charles tilted his head, studying Enzo with those cold, unblinking eyes that had once felt safe to him.

But now, they only reminded him of the gilded cage he lived in.

"A father to you?" Charles murmured, voice soft. "Strange way to speak about an Emperor who uses his people as pawns."

His hand reached out, brushing Enzo’s cheek with a mocking tenderness. "Or do you forget whose bed you share now?"

Enzo looked at the other priests who averted their gazes. His throat tightened. No one here would defend him or his honour.

"You’re overstepping, Your Holiness."

He hated how his voice trembled.

Charles smirked, fingers dropping from his omega’s face.

"Am I? Well, it’s not like you can actually crawl in his bed."

Before Enzo could respond, the heavy doors creaked open.

The guards straightened, announcing,

"His Majesty, the Emperor of Revhara has arrived."

"Now, then," Charles inhaled deeply, rising from his seat, followed by his disciples and Enzo.

"We will see how much he treats you like a son," he added.