"Enzo and I only discussed the hunting routes this morning. Nothing else. In case you probably thought otherwise," Zayden explained.

It wasn’t entirely a lie. After all, he came to tell him that Charles was scheming something. However, Enzo didn’t know the details because Charles had always been careful when it came to his plans. Then, the conversation drifted to their childhood, something Zayden judged unimportant to tell Ren.

"I did not think of—" Ren frowned defensively. How did Zayden know?

But the General’s small smile cut him off.

"You did," he said softly. "You don’t hide things as well as you think. I should have thought better. The way you were staring at the couch, so disgusted... no wonder," he chuckled.

For a moment, neither spoke. The air between them felt heavy yet strangely warm.

Zayden finally said, almost in a whisper, "I would not do that. Not with anyone else. Not when—" he paused.

He had been planning to confess his feelings to Ren during the Hunting Festival. And with the servant’s reactions lately, he was almost certain he shared the same feelings.

"Not when?"

"Oh... nothing," he smiled brightly. "Are you still mad?"

Ren shook his head.

"Don’t overthink it. I... just didn’t like you sending me away," he explained, picking at his nails, although deep down he knew that wasn’t the case.

"Yes, of course," Zayden chuckled, obviously not believing his excuses. "So you were jealous."

"I was not!.." Ren argued.

"It’s alright. Friends get jealous when they see someone else take more importance in their friend’s lives," Zayden said, though a part of him wanted to replace the word friend with lover.

Ren remained silent for a moment, lost in thought.

"But I was never jealous of Ilyan’s friends."

Zayden’s arms dropped to his sides. Did he have to mention him now—here, in front of him? His heart sank at the name, an unexpected pang of pain twisting inside him. His heart sank at the name, though he quickly masked it with a faint smile.

"I see..." he murmured. "Then maybe I was wrong."

Ren frowned. "Wrong about what?"

"That you could ever feel jealous over me."

Ren blinked, unsure what to say. The words weren’t harsh, but something in Zayden’s voice—soft, distant, almost disappointed—made his chest ache. Then, he convinced himself that Zayden was joking, like he always did.

"Your jests can be—" he began, but Zayden waved a hand dismissively.

"Right, a joke," he said, forcing a laugh. "You wouldn’t care about what I do anyway. I’m just... your lord, after all."

Ren froze. The tone didn’t match the words—too gentle, too hurt.

Why did it sound like Zayden was trying to convince himself more than him?

"You are my friend," Ren said, looking up at the man. "I care..." he added after a brief pause. "I care," he repeated, his throat turning dry.

Zayden hummed faintly, pulling a chair in front of the bed. Then, he sat across from Ren, locking gazes with him.

"Did you and Ilyan become lovers from the start?"

It wasn’t a question out of pure curiosity. Rather, it was just to calculate his chances of becoming someone more than just a friend in Ren’s life. He might be blinded by love but he wasn’t crazy.

Or was he?

Ren tilted his head slightly to the side, confused.

"Why... do you ask?"

"I’m curious," Zayden said, deliberately lifting the corner of his lips. "Your love must have been... unique. You haven’t forgotten him all these years. You still think of him. Have you ever visited his grave?"

"W-Wait," Ren stammered, defensively raising his arms in the air, his shoulders stiffening. "T-That... Those are... a lot of questions," he managed to say.

And most of the answers had almost blurred in his memories. All he knew was that he had loved that man—that he needed to simply love him. In life and in death. Because those were the vows he had made at their wedding—in front of all the High Priests of Hianshu.

"Alright. Then, let’s start with my first question," Zayden said quietly, his gaze unwavering. "Did you become lovers right after meeting him?"

Ren shook his head.

"We became friends first. I didn’t even know what love was..." His gaze lowered, a faint sorrow clouding his expression.

Although it pained him to see Ren like this, Zayden knew he had to keep going. If Ren kept that ghost in his heart forever, he would never move on. Never even think of the possibility that he could have a happy family with Eiran—with him.

He needed to make him talk about Ilyan—only then could he learn to let go.

"And have you visited his grave all these years?" Zayden asked, his tone steady but softer now.

Ren bit his lip, hesitating before meeting his gaze.

Zayden already knew the answer. But hearing it from Ren’s mouth still struck deeper than he expected.

"Actually... I... his grave... It’s not far from your mansion..."

Zayden’s breath caught in his throat. For a split second, the world around him seemed to still. That was the final blow.

Not far from my mansion... All the time he went to the forest... it was to see that man. Of course, he didn’t forget him!..

He forced a quiet breath, trying to steady the storm brewing in his chest. It wasn’t anger—no, it was something far worse.

The image of Ren visiting another man’s grave so close to him, mourning someone he could never compete with, tore at him more than any blade could.

"I see..." he finally said, his tone calm, almost indifferent. But the stiffness in his jaw betrayed him. "So even when you were living under my roof, you visited him regularly..."

Ren blinked, startled by the faint bitterness laced in Zayden’s voice.

"It wasn’t like that—"

"I didn’t say it was wrong," Zayden interrupted softly, leaning back in his chair. His gaze fell to the floor, shadowed. "It’s only natural to visit someone you love."

Then, he exhaled slowly, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"I suppose I’m only realizing now... how little I know about the man who is right beside me."