When the servant walked past him, Ren followed the man’s steps closely, with quiet, careful steps. Just as the servant was about to turn the corner leading to the hallway where the dungeon’s entrance was, Ren covered the man’s mouth and slammed him against the wall.

Terrified, the servant’s eyes widened and his body shook.

"Why are you panicking?" Ren smiled, forcing a calm expression although he was unsure the man before him would truly believe him.

"I came to tell you that," pausing for a brief moment, he thought of something quickly, "the butler is looking for you."

The servant frowned, doubt in his gaze.

"Why would he look for me out of all people?"

"Why? You think I am lying?" Ren locked gaze with him.

The servant didn’t say anything but the sharpness in his eyes answered for him.

"I am not lying." Ren slowly removed his hand. The only way to make the servant believe him was to let him go. The rest was a gamble. If it didn’t go as planned, he could quickly silence him, and—

The servant exhaled deeply.

"I got it. Then you take this to prison cell number 322." He handed the tray to Ren.

The silver-haired man blinked, as if he hadn’t expected to suddenly receive a task.

"Wait, me?"

"Who else? You said the butler is looking for me. Want me to get in trouble, or what?"

"Well... Of course not. But this... Is it for the new prisoner?..."

"Ha ha ha. Who in their right mind would treat someone from Hianshu, a prisoner at that, kindly? It’s Duke Danman’s. Looks like the Emperor can’t starve him to death just yet," the servant snickered before walking away, hands slipping into his pants pockets.

Setting the tray on the floor, Ren took out his handkerchief, covering as much of his face as possible. As the General’s personal attendant, he might encounter certain guards. If they remembered his face, only trouble would follow.

Once he stood before the guard, questions came quickly: Why was he here? What was in the tray? The food was inspected after he answered every question, although Ren almost cracked a smile.

To protect even criminals? How naive of Revhara. Especially when it was someone like Duke Danman, who had planned to kill the Empire’s second prince.

He couldn’t tell if they were too kind—or just foolish. Yet he could never voice such thoughts aloud. Certainly not in front of Zayden, who believed Ren to be a kind man, when in truth he was the complete opposite.

A man whose hands were stained with blood could never be truly kind—though Ren judged Zayden to be an exception. 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

That man had a heart of gold.

Or was it silver?

He wondered, unable to recall the saying. He had read it somewhere long... long ago.

Finally, the thick iron door creaked open. The air that seeped out was thick and rotten—the stench of moss, sweat, and something that drifted immediately in his nostrils.

Is this why the guards didn’t question the cloth? Ren thought grimly. He kept his head low, eyes flicking through the narrow, torch-lit corridor. Rusted bars lined both sides, each cell a shadow of despair.

Then he saw him.

At first glance, it was evident that this man didn’t belong here. Even in the gloom, the gleam of silver embroidery caught Ren’s eye. The noble’s shirt, though wrinkled, was far too fine for this place—a few pearls glimmering faintly around the collar. It was almost a laughable sight.

Ren’s gaze dropped to the wooden plaque: 322.

Duke Danman’s cell.

His pulse quickened.

Ren stepped closer, careful not to draw attention, his steps almost like those of a ghost. There was a narrow slot carved into the bars—just wide enough to slide in the tray. He placed the bowl of soup and stale bread on the dark brown shelf inside.

No need for words. The less he spoke, the safer he was.

He’s seen me before. If he recognizes me here...

Ren swallowed hard.

If he tells the General—

"Wait!"

Ren froze mid-step. The Duke’s voice was sharp, far too alive for a man imprisoned.

"He surely has been eating well," the silver-haired man mumbled under his breath, voice too quiet to be heard.

"Where is my cup of tea?!" he demanded, his tone laced with a hint of irritation.

Ren almost laughed—almost—but held back. A bitter curl of disbelief tugged at his lips instead.

A cup of tea? Was he expecting porcelain and honey too?

You killed people and now you want tea.

He clenched his jaw until his teeth ached. His fingers twitched at his sides, aching to wrap around the bars, to say something—anything. But he didn’t. The guards at the far end glanced over, murmuring among themselves.

Ren exhaled slowly and bowed his head. Then, in a voice soft enough not to carry, he muttered, "You should be grateful they gave you water."

And with that, he turned to leave. His heart raced rapidly. Perhaps it was the fear of being caught. He looked around, trying to find Charles’ cell. And he did. His red eyes glimmered under the faint glow of the torch behind him.

His gaze searched for the guards, and they were staring at him. Maybe they had already sensed that Ren didn’t come here only to give food to a criminal, nor was he an ordinary servant, despite his rather shabby attire. He still hadn’t changed until now, his shirt slightly wrinkled.

He inhaled deeply. He had no choice. He didn’t want to resort to using such a large amount of magic, but he had to. For all the wrongs Charles had done. Because just suffering the pain of a bond breaking was not enough.

That man needed to know how Ren felt when his fated mate took his last breath. Somewhere deep down, he knew Zayden wouldn’t allow Enzo to die. And even if it was going to cause Enzo pain, Ren was determined to make Charles suffer for his sins tonight.

He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, they remained red, but his pupils had changed to scarlet, like blood. He murmured a spell, and golden light surrounded his figure. Immediately, a sudden gust of air spread across the prison, quiet but the golden light spread like a wave.

Soon, everyone who was awake slumped onto the floor.