Chapter 167: 167 — Your Guards Are Useless!

Zayden was sleeping soundly on the bed. Ren had carried him there, laying him down with ease. Afterward, he called a few maids to clean the room—the scattered bottles, the untouched plates of food, the faint smell of alcohol lingering in the air. He didn’t like it, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to be angry with Zayden.

Lately, his patience toward him had grown... quite unusual. He no longer found his reckless words or careless habits bothersome. In fact, sometimes, he found his words endearing. It unsettled him more than the mess ever could.

Ren paced slowly around the room, his gaze wandering. He knew every inch of Zayden’s quarters in the mansion, yet his chamber in the palace still felt foreign. It bore none of the warmth or traces of the people Zayden had spoken of so fondly.

No keepsakes.

No portraits.

Nothing that spoke of the two friends who had shaped him into the broken man Ren saw tonight. He had never seen him so fragile like this.

If not for today, he would never have believed that Zayden could cry—or perhaps he would have. After all, he had seen him on the verge of tears when Eiran went missing. However, that had also been an unusual occurrence.

"It was a woman and a man..." Ren murmured, eyes drifting toward a wall covered by a large crimson cloth.

Curious, he stepped closer and reached out. His fingers gripped the edge of the fabric and tugged it down gently. It fell to the ground with a faint rustle.

A portrait.

But his breath caught in his throat the moment he saw what it was—not the faces of the two friends he expected, but a grand family portrait. The same one he had seen before. And there was the same woman he’d seen, but a younger version, standing before the Emperor and Empress, beside Zayden and Soren.

Is she close to them? To be in a family portrait...

Ren wondered. He never saw her in the palace. Nor did Soren or Zayden ever mention a woman who belonged to their family. He leaned down to pick up the cloth and carefully placed it back, hiding what he had just seen.

He stepped toward the door. Then his steps faltered. Turning, he looked at Zayden, deep in slumber. Yet, for some reason, something felt unsettling—as if something told him not to leave.

Not yet.

"I’ll just stay here for a little longer..." he murmured.

Then, he snapped his fingers; the lights dimmed, leaving only the gentle flicker of a single candle on the table. Its glow bathed the room in gold, shadows dancing across Zayden’s sleeping form. Ren walked to the couch and sat down, his steps quiet, deliberate.

He had practiced his mana for years—refined it until he could cast spells without uttering a word. It came as naturally as breathing now. And yet, he could never show it.

Not to anyone.

His gaze fell to the glass table, fingertips tracing invisible patterns across its cold surface.

"Will he forgive me for this too?" he whispered, a faint smile tugging at his lips—one that didn’t reach his eyes.

At this point, he wasn’t sure whether he wanted forgiveness anymore... or just to know how far Zayden would let him go. How patient he could be.

***

Hearing the sound of boots on the floor, Ren jolted awake. His gaze darted across the room, searching for Zayden.

Did he wake up?

But to his horror, he spotted a tall figure standing beside Zayden’s bed. The intruder’s face was hidden beneath dark cloth, concealing any trace of identity.

Ren’s chest tightened when the glint of a silver blade caught his eye—its tip aimed directly at Zayden.

There was no time to think. He lunged forward, grabbing the man’s wrist. The struggle was fierce; the attacker was taller, stronger, and far more brutal than Ren anticipated. Even after years of training, Ren could barely hold him back.

His teeth sank into his lip, heart pounding, as he debated whether to call out and wake Zayden. But if he used his eyes... then it would end in no time—

The man suddenly shoved him—hard. Ren slammed against the wall with a loud thud, pain blooming through his back and head. His ears began ringing, and his vision blurred when tears formed in his eyes.

Zayden stirred at the noise, eyes fluttering open. His gaze fell instantly on Ren sprawled on the floor. He frowned.

What was going on?!

"Come back!" Ren shouted, pushing himself up as the intruder sprinted toward the window the moment he realized the General was awake.

"Tonight was supposed to be perfect..." the man hissed under his breath, voice dripping with venom. "If it weren’t for this damned servant—!"

And then he leapt out of the window, disappearing into the shadows.

By then, Zayden had already pulled the emergency bell, its sharp clang echoing through the palace halls to alert the guards.

He sprang to his feet and rushed to Ren, grabbing his arm to help him stand.

"Are you alright?" He sat him on the bed carefully.

Ren didn’t answer. His fingers curled into tight fists, his jaw trembling ever so slightly. He hated the tremor in his hands—it made him feel weak.

"Ren," Zayden tried to soften his voice, but it only came out deeper, sharper. He coughed, clearing his throat before continuing. "Did you get hurt?" His eyes darted back and forth, searching for any sign of blood, hands hovering nearby but too afraid to touch him.

The servant, on the other hand, glared at him.

Zayden blinked, surprised. Did he do something wrong?

Hesitantly, he asked, "Why do you look... mad?"

"Because I am," he replied immediately, voice laced with fury Zayden couldn’t understand.

"But why? Oh," Zayden gasped as if realizing what was going on. "Because he escaped? Don’t worry. The guards will catch him."

Ren scoffed, rolling his eyes—something he would have never dared before.

"You were sleeping. Peacefully. While you were being attacked," he hissed. "Your guards are useless!"

"Look... I understand you must have been frightened, but this is normal. I would have fought back as soon as he attacked."

"No, you wouldn’t! You didn’t even wake up when he had a knife to your throat!"

Zayden froze, taken aback. He had never seen Ren this upset—his voice raised, eyes wet with anger that didn’t feel like hatred.

"But nothing happened," he tried to comfort him.

Ren’s breath hitched.

"But what if you were hurt?!"