Chapter 145: 145 — Wherever You Wish, My Lord

Zayden sat on the chair facing Ren beside the fireplace. The dry wood burned, cracking and slowly turning to ash, keeping the room warm.

Ren wiped his tears; his cheeks were painted a bright red with embarrassment. He had never wanted to show such vulnerable sides to anyone, yet he found himself displaying them in front of the General.

Lately, he had begun to feel at ease around him—enough to reveal almost anything. Had he known Zayden was this kind, he might have told him about his second gender and Eiran much earlier. The years of struggle and hide-and-seek suddenly appeared foolish.

But Ren was foolish like that. He could spot flaws in a war strategy, kill as many people as asked, heal them—but he couldn’t interact with many.

He sniffled, his nose running slightly.

Zayden watched him, his gaze soft and gentle. He must have gone crazy, because how could someone look so pretty even in such a messy situation?

He reached for his handkerchief from his pocket. He should have done it sooner, but he hesitated. What if Ren refused it?

Yet he swallowed nervously and extended the cloth toward the young man.

"Take this."

Ren looked up, eyes slightly red.

"T-Thank you," he said hesitantly, taking it.

When he brought the handkerchief near his nose, the faint scent of musk—Zayden’s pheromones—tickled his nostrils. It wasn’t strong enough to send him into heat, nor too faint to be drowned out by the smell of dye and wool in the room.

"Why aren’t you wiping the tears away?"

Ren rubbed the soft tissue on his skin almost too quickly.

"I-I was about to."

"Why are you nervous, now?" Zayden asked casually. It was rare for him to be so flustered.

"Well... Crying in front of you is a little—"

Zayden leaned a little closer, the corner of his lips curving into a faint smile.

"Are you sure it’s just the tears making you nervous?" he teased.

Ren froze. His fingers tightened around the handkerchief, eyes darting away from Zayden’s amused gaze.

"I-I do not know what you mean," he murmured, ears turning red.

Zayden chuckled softly, the sound low in the large space filled with clothes.

"You’re terrible at lying, Ren."

"I am not lying," he locked gaze with Zayden, not wavering a moment.

"Mm. Of course you’re not."

Ren pressed the handkerchief harder against his face, wishing the ground would just swallow him whole.

Zayden leaned back finally, still smiling.

"Don’t worry. I won’t tease you anymore. For tonight."

But he did not stop watching him—the way Ren’s lashes trembled, the faint pink painted on his cheeks, the way his heartbeat almost echoed in the quiet room.

"My Lord, I apologize for intervening," the shop owner said, bowing deeply. "But it seems the storm will not stop any time soon."

Zayden turned toward her, one brow arched.

"We need to head back to the palace."

"I wish I could help you with that," she sighed, lowering her head. "However, if you need a place to stay, I know an inn nearby. They’ll make room for someone of your status, I’m sure!" she exclaimed, her eyes glimmering under the faint light.

The General’s gaze drifted to Ren—a silent question in his eyes.

After all, Ren was the one who would likely insist on returning to the palace.

The servant blinked, tilting his head, confused. Then his brows furrowed slightly. Was the General... waiting for his opinion?

Hesitantly, he raised a finger toward himself.

"Are you asking me?"

"No," Zayden replied, lips curving into a grin.

Ren let out a small sigh, lowering his hand. Of course, the General wouldn’t—

"I’m asking the person behind you."

Ren froze.

Behind me?

His expression darkened instantly. His hand moved toward his belt, eyes scanning the room for danger.

Zayden’s laughter filled the space, warm and rich, breaking the tension in an instant.

"Oh, Ren," he said between chuckles, leaning slightly forward. "What am I to do with you? How can you feel so many things within seconds?"

Ren’s shoulders dropped, relaxing. His cheeks burned as he turned away, muttering, "You shouldn’t joke like that..."

He had been ready to attack whoever might have been behind him.

Zayden smiled, watching the faint blush on his skin, thinking quietly to himself.

Adorable.

"My Lord?" The shop owner’s voice pulled him back to reality. As much as he would have liked to admire Ren, now wasn’t the time or place.

"So? Shall we head to the inn or the palace?" Zayden asked.

"Wherever you wish to go, My Lord. I will follow you regardless."

The answer was perfect. For a servant.

But that wasn’t what Zayden wanted to hear from the omega. He wanted his opinion—his desire.

Perhaps it was too early. Perhaps he had gotten his hopes too high after Ren had spoken about his mate, thinking they had finally grown closer.

Why does he always have a barrier around him?

Zayden sighed and rose from the chair.

"Lead us to the inn," he ordered the shop owner, who bowed instantly.

She quickly called for a servant, instructing him to guide them through the storm. The man slipped into a dark, heavy jacket, wrapping a muffler around his neck and pulling a red hat low over his ears before opening the door.

Once they stepped outside, the chilling breeze found them at once. It brushed against their cheeks, turning them crimson within minutes. The road was blanketed in snow that nearly reached their knees, flakes slipping into their boots as they walked. Yet neither of them complained.

They simply followed the lantern’s light ahead, side by side, until the glow of the inn came into view through the storm. A few people had already lined up, waiting to enter.

"Please wait a moment, My Lord. I will go and book a room for you." The man bowed and rushed inside.

Zayden folded his arms, leaning against the building’s tall wall as he waited for the man to return.

"My Lord, you may come!" the man’s voice called out from the distance.

"A lord?" one of the men standing in line muttered, his expression twisted in disgust.