[BL] Alpha, You've Got the Wrong Mate!

Chapter 124 — Simply Kind

Zayden swung the door open, finding Ren seated on the chair. The royal physician was preparing to disinfect the scratches on his hands, small streaks of blood marking the peeled skin.

"Your Royal Highness!" the physician exclaimed.

"Don’t call me that," Zayden sighed, stepping closer to Ren. His eyes darted around, searching for someone—or something.

"Are you looking for something?" Ren asked softly.

"Where is Eiran?" Zayden demanded.

"Oh, I sent him back to his room. I said I would join him once this is treated."

Zayden blinked, glancing at Ren. He shouldn’t feel this way, but a small relief bloomed in his chest. After revealing the truth, Ren had begun to talk more—even if it was one sentence more—something he never would have done before.

Improvement...

A soft chuckle escaped Zayden, confusing the physician.

Ren tilted his head, wondering if he had said something funny.

"How badly is he injured?" Zayden asked, his voice tighter than he realized.

The physician raised an eyebrow. "My lord, it’s not much."

Zayden already knew that. And yet, seeing the blood on Ren’s hands made his chest tighten. He had witnessed far worse on the battlefield—heads torn from bodies, limbs scattered across the field—yet this small injury struck him harder than any wound he had seen.

This had to be what people called love. But how could he make Ren feel the same? How could he make him understand that Zayden’s care ran deeper than concern over mere scratches?

Ren flinched slightly as the antiseptic touched his skin. It burned more than he had expected. Did people in Revhara use different drugs for injuries? Or was it because these were more painful to humans?

"Does it hurt?" Zayden asked, worry written all over his face.

The royal physician barely managed to keep his composure without laughing. The care the General had for this person couldn’t be hidden even if he tried.

"No. I am used to such things," Ren murmured, staring at his hand with a faint, bitter smile.

Zayden’s brows furrowed. Used to such things? Used to pain or to being hurt?

"You’re slow," he muttered, taking the bandages from the physician’s hands.

The royal physician only smiled, wisely stepping aside. He wasn’t the slow one. The General was simply too impatient. And too worried to wait.

Slowly wrapping the bandages around Ren’s fingers, Zayden’s gaze never left the servant’s hand.

Ren, on the other hand, watched him in silence, a little surprised. He hadn’t expected the General to care for his injuries—not after he had revealed such a heavy truth. He expected the opposite—hatred.

The faint rustle of fabric was the only sound in the room. The soft brush of Zayden’s fingers as he tied the last knot caused a hint of slight redness to appear on his cheeks. For a moment, it finally felt peaceful.

Then, a sharp knock on the door broke the quiet.

"Your Grace," a soldier’s voice called from outside, "His Imperial Majesty requests your presence immediately."

Zayden’s hands froze mid-motion. His gaze shifted toward the man.

"...Understood."

He turned his heels, casting one last glance at Ren before heading for the door.

"Don’t strain your hands," he said quietly, the softness in his voice gone as quickly as it appeared.

The door closed behind him, leaving Ren staring at the bandages wrapped neatly around his fingers. Although he was told not to, he moved his fingers, making sure he didn’t break a bone. If he did, he would have to find something to cure it. After all, he needed to wield a sword.

"The General seems to care a lot for you," the royal physician finally said, breaking the silence.

Ren turned, shaking his head faintly.

"You are mistaken," he replied softly. "He is simply... kind."

Kind enough to forgive me—the biggest liar who could exist. One who keeps nothing but secrets, revealing them one by one, testing his patience that never seems to run out. And... he didn’t even yell at me.

His heart sank. Such kindness made his heart race in a way he despised.

***

Zayden entered the court once his arrival was announced by the guards stationed at the entrance.

He stepped forward and knelt, bowing respectfully to the Emperor, the Empress, the Queen, and the Crown Prince, as duty required.

The Emperor sat at the center, dressed in a dark blue shirt with white embroidery, the crown resting firmly on his head. His expression was devoid of emotion—like that of a true ruler.

His gaze didn’t waver, not even for a moment, when his own son entered the hall. He had grown used to seeing his youngest son in this state, unlike the Empress and the Queen, who were only required to attend court when a delegation was present in the empire.

The Empress sat at his right, adorned with jewelry from head to toe like an Empress should be, the white gown draping gracefully around his slender figure. Her gaze softened at the sight of her son, her grip tightening around the throne’s armrest as she held herself back from talking to her son like a mother would.

Soren sat at the Emperor’s left, his white shirt embroidered with golden threads that shimmered under the light, the crown gleaming against his red hair. He fixed his glasses, pushing them back against his sharp nose while he looked through some papers.

And beside the Empress sat the Queen, dressed in a deep wine-colored robe with silver detailing. The fine fabric flowed like liquid with every breath he took, a single sapphire pin secured on his chest like a brooch. His expression was calm—almost serene—but his sharp eyes missed nothing that unfolded before the throne.

The hall wasn’t adorned with golden statues or excessive symbols of justice. Instead, silver figures stood tall like pillars, their surfaces catching the warm glow of the chandeliers that hung from the ceiling. At both sides sat the ministers, each holding parchment and quill, ready to record every word of importance.

The Emperor’s gaze fell upon the young man kneeling on the red carpet, and a quiet sigh escaped his lips.

"Have you met the delegation?" He demanded in a sharp tone.