"Papa...? Is that you...?" Eiran sat up on the bed, his eyes still closed, slowly rubbing one of them as if trying to clear away the last traces of sleep.

Zayden immediately stiffened.

What was he supposed to tell him? Surely, just like last night, Eiran would ask for his papa again...

And as if the gods themselves had taken pity on him, a knock suddenly echoed at the door.

The General quickly forced a grin onto his face, though it looked awkward no matter how hard he tried to make it seem natural.

Eiran noticed the stiffness in his father’s shoulders, but he chose not to point it out. Something was wrong—terribly wrong—but he couldn’t quite understand what it was. For now, all he could do was wait until Zayden decided to tell him the truth.

Or... he could find out on his own.

That thought was already forming in the little boy’s mind as Zayden excused himself and stepped out of the room.

The moment the door shut behind him, the forced smile vanished.

Zayden’s face twisted into a deep frown, and his gaze burned with restrained fury.

The man standing before him was his friend. A man he had trusted. And because of that man’s words, he had sent the person he loved dearly to the dungeon.

His anger was directed at Ren for lying to him, for hiding the truth for so long—but it would be a lie to pretend that Zion’s revelation had brought him any satisfaction.

If anything, it had shattered the illusion he had been living in. It had torn apart the fragile happiness he had allowed himself to believe in. It had forced him to face a betrayal he wished he had never known.

"What brings you here?" Zayden asked, his tone cold and distant—nothing like the man who had been sharing drinks with his friend the night before.

Zion felt his blood run cold.

He had never seen Zayden like this.

Never heard him speak in such an icy tone.

Even during battles, Zayden had always found ways to lift the spirits of the men around him, cracking foolish jokes even in the face of danger.

"Ah... the servants told me you were here. With the child," Zion said at last, though hesitation laced every word. "I heard... you sent him to the dungeon."

Even then, Zion didn’t break eye contact.

It felt as though looking away would mean admitting fault, admitting that revealing the truth had been a mistake.

Zayden’s fists clenched at his sides.

The mere mention of Ren made his expression darken.

"If you have nothing important to say, then leave."

"You should inform the Emperor."

At those words, Zayden—who had already begun to turn away—stopped in his tracks.

He turned back slowly, his brows drawing even lower.

"I told you first because you seemed... attached to him. Not just recently, but for the past few years—"

"Shut up, Zion," Zayden snapped. "Do not bother my father with this. I’ll handle it."

With that, the General turned on his heel and stepped back into the room, ending the conversation.

Zion remained standing there, staring at the closed door.

A frown settled on his face as he slowly shook his head.

If everything was left to Zayden, then there was a chance—

A chance that he would forgive Ren.

Or worse, that Ren would manipulate him again.

He told me not to inform the Emperor... but the Crown Prince should be fine, right?

His gaze darkened.

But before that... he needs to disappear.

Only then would everyone believe without question that Ren had truly been spying for Hianshu.

***

— Last Night —

After being dragged to the dungeon, Ren was harshly shoved to the ground. His body hit the cold, damp stone with force, but he barely reacted. The moisture seeping through his clothes and the filth beneath him didn’t bother him the way it usually would.

What did it matter whether the place was clean or not? At least, not when everything else had already fallen apart.

His aversion to dirt had begun long ago, back in the Temple, where the people who called him a monster had forced him to sleep on cold stone floors crawling with insects. They feared him—or at least, they claimed they did.

But fear had never stopped them from mistreating him.

The title they gave him made him sound powerful, terrifying even.

Yet the truth was far crueller.

He had been nothing more than a child in their hands. A child feared in name, but abused in reality. And back then, he hadn’t known any better.

"So... you’re the one? The one who killed all those people?" one of the guards said as he stepped forward, looking down at the omega lying on the dungeon floor.

Ren didn’t answer.

He tried to push himself up, but before he could rise, a heavy boot came down hard on his wrist.

Pain shot through his arm.

Ren gasped and instinctively tried to pull away, but the knight pinning him down was broad, heavy, and far stronger than Ren had expected. No matter how much he twisted, he couldn’t force the man off.

"Hah, what a weakling. And you’re telling me he is the one who killed all those people?" one of the guards gathering around him sneered.

"I know, right? Pathetic," another said with a smirk, crossing his arms proudly as though humiliating a defenceless prisoner was some great achievement.

The knight finally lifted his foot, and Ren exhaled shakily, thinking for a moment that it was over.

But that hope vanished the instant a hand struck his face.

The slap came so suddenly that his head snapped to the side.

Before he could recover, another blow landed across his other cheek.

The sharp sting spread instantly, leaving both cheeks burning, dark red handprints forming across his pale skin.

Tears welled in Ren’s eyes from the pain, but he forced them back, biting down on his lower lip to hold in both the tears and the anger rising inside him.

That only seemed to irritate them further.