The doors burst open, and Ren sprang to his feet, pushing himself off the bed. He had been waiting for Zayden to return—both of them having promised to spend the night together before leaving the capital.

"Zayden?" The name slipped from his lips as he noticed the soldiers gathered behind the tall demon.

The dark blue–haired man didn’t move an inch, nor did he say a word.

"Did you forget to tell them what to—"

Before Ren could finish, the knights rushed forward, the sharp edges of their swords pressing dangerously close to his neck.

Stunned, the silver-haired man’s crimson gaze darted toward his lover, searching for an answer.

What was happening?

Why wasn’t Zayden saying anything?

Why wasn’t he stopping them?

Ren’s heart sank, unanswered questions filling his mind, dread creeping into his chest as his eyes widened.

"Y-You—"

"How do you feel?"

The voice was still soft, still deep—but stripped of any warmth.

Ren couldn’t bring himself to ask: How does what feel? His heart raced rapidly.

His mind clouded with questions. Too many.

Had Zayden seen him with Vincent? Had he overheard their conversation?

Something must have happened—but he couldn’t grasp what it was. He tried to steady himself, to think rationally, but Zayden’s next words froze him in place.

"You are from the Temple."

Oh no.

Ren blinked rapidly, scrambling for something—anything—to say. The lie had been exposed. The final layer that concealed him had been torn away. His true identity now stood bare before the man he had come to love.

"You lied to me... About every single thing!"

For a moment, Ren thought he heard Zayden’s voice tremble. But the thought slipped away as the man continued.

"You deceived me. I trusted you—!" Zayden shouted, his gaze blazing with fury. His brows twitched, his frown deepening, with no sign of easing as it usually would.

Ren swallowed hard, his heart pounding violently against his chest.

So the day had finally come.

The day he would have to face Zayden.

The day he would have to face the monster he tried to erase from within himself.

"Guards—arrest him."

The command snapped through the room, cold and absolute. It came so suddenly that Ren barely had time to process it.

Zayden had discovered his identity.

And now—

Cold metal clamped around Ren’s wrists. The force of it made him flinch as the guards seized him, dragging him toward the exit without hesitation.

"Zayden!" Ren’s voice broke, his eyes searching—pleading—as he struggled against their grip.

But Zayden didn’t look at him.

Didn’t take back his order.

He simply strode past, jaw clenched, something wild and unrestrained burning in his expression. His hand lashed out without warning—shoving aside everything on the wardrobe.

Glass shattered violently against the floor.

Another crash.

And another.

Bottles splintered, liquid spilling across the ground as something bled there.

Still, it wasn’t enough.

His chest heaved, breath uneven, fury rising with every second—as if destruction was the only thing keeping him from turning around.

From looking.

From running to the man who constantly spouted lies with innocent-looking eyes.

Because if he did—

If he so much as met Ren’s eyes—he didn’t know what he would do.

So he didn’t.

And the sound of shattering glass echoed behind Ren as he was dragged out of the room—just like the last remnants of Zayden’s trust, splintering beyond repair.

"Listen to me—!"

"Shut up!" one of the guards shrieked, his voice sharp and filled with fury. "How dare you try to fool us like this?!"

"You wretch!" another roared, his grip tightening painfully around Ren’s arm as he yanked him forward. "You’re the one who killed my brother, aren’t you? That monster from the Temple—!"

Their accusations came one after another, loud, merciless, and filled with hatred.

And yet, Ren didn’t make a single sound. Not a word of protest. Not even a breath in defence.

He didn’t struggle against their hold, nor did he try to explain himself. Instead, he kept turning his head back, his gaze fixed on the door they had dragged him away from—as if he expected it to open at any moment.

As if he were waiting.

Waiting for Zayden to come out.

Waiting for him to stop this.

To call his name sweetly as he always did.

To look at him—just once, and try to understand him, as he had done until now.

But no silhouette emerged from the room. No one came to his rescue.

Even as he was dragged farther and farther away, down the dim corridor that led to the depths of the dungeon, Ren’s eyes never left that door—until it disappeared from his sight entirely.

***

Outside, thunder roared, sharp flashes of lightning cutting through the darkness as they flickered across the room through the large window and its thin curtains. Rain poured relentlessly, water streaming down the glass in uneven trails.

Eiran jolted awake, sitting upright in his bed, his breath uneven. His eyes darted around the room, instinctively searching for Ren—only to slowly exhale when he found nothing but the small dragon in deep slumber beside him.

He had been sleeping alone for a long time now. And yet, on nights like this—when the storm raged and the thunder refused to quiet—anxiety would always find its way back to him, coiling tightly in his chest.

"...Papa?" His voice was small, uncertain. A quiet whisper in the large room.

Without thinking, the boy slipped out of bed and made his way down the corridor, his steps quick despite the cold floor beneath his feet. He headed straight for Ren’s room—but the moment he reached it, he froze.

The doors were wide open.

The room itself was a mess. Furniture overturned. Glass shattered across the floor. The air felt heavy, as if something violent had just taken place.

And standing in the middle of it—Zayden.

Alone.

Eiran’s gaze flickered around the room again, searching, hoping—but Ren wasn’t there.

"...Where is he?"

Zayden turned at the sound of his voice.

His eyes were red.

Whether from anger or something else, Eiran couldn’t tell.

Maybe he had been crying. Maybe he was simply too furious to contain it.

But Eiran didn’t care about any of that. Not right now. Not when the absence of one person was making his heartbeat rise uncontrollably.

"Where is Papa...?" he choked out, his voice trembling. A strange feeling crept over him, cold and suffocating.

He could sense it. Something wasn’t right.

No—something was terribly wrong.