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

Chapter 148 — I’m Terrified

It didn’t take much for Zayden to get drunk. Or maybe it did, but Ren didn’t realize. He had been sipping from his first bottle while Zayden was already on his fifth in just two hours.

Neither of them spoke. Perhaps they were both afraid of saying something they shouldn’t—of revealing parts of themselves better left hidden. Everyone carried secrets, ones they’d rather bury deep, even from their own hearts if possible.

Zayden leaned back, tilting his head toward the ceiling. He stared at it as if it were a starry sky instead of a plain stretch of white.

"Ren," he said suddenly, his voice breaking through the shrieking wind outside.

Ren blinked, raising his brows, waiting for the General to continue. But Zayden didn’t.

A moment passed before he called again, "Ren."

"What is it?" Ren finally asked, setting his glass down on the wooden table.

He wasn’t someone who lost patience easily—but alcohol seemed to make it flee faster than expected. The thought almost made him chuckle, though he held it in.

"Nothing," Zayden grinned, his cheeks faintly flushed.

He clearly drank too much.

Ren thought, shaking his head.

The last time he had seen Zayden in this state was five years ago. Since then, it was as if he had sworn never to let anyone witness his drunkenness again. Perhaps he feared what might slip out—after all, it was when he was drunk that he had once confessed to killing the dragon where he found Eiran.

Ren didn’t press. He simply picked up his glass and took a few sips. Maybe if he got a little drunk too, he’d tolerate Zayden better. The man had an uncanny talent for testing his patience.

Who calls someone’s name just to say nothing?

He nearly rolled his eyes but stopped himself. Keeping his composure was second nature by now—especially since Zayden didn’t always forget what happened when he was drunk.

Just then, a knock sounded at the door. Ren set his glass back on the table, rose from the couch, and started toward it.

Before he could take another step, a strong hand closed around his wrist. He froze. The room was warm thanks to the heater; the outside cold couldn’t reach them—yet Zayden’s hand was icy.

Ren turned, meeting the man’s gaze. Zayden was staring up at him with the soft, pleading eyes of a child.

He’s a grown man... yet behaving like this.

Ren sighed and rubbed his temple in disbelief.

"You..." Zayden began, blinking rapidly as if trying to clear his vision.

Ren narrowed his eyes and gently pulled his hand free from the General’s grasp.

"You should sleep on the bed. I’ll take the couch," he said evenly.

Zayden’s lips parted, as though he wanted to argue, but no words came. He just stared, silent for too long.

Then came another knock at the door. Without another glance, Ren turned on his heel and walked toward it.

Who could it be at this hour?

He wondered, slowly opening the door to peek through the small opening before letting any possible danger slip into the room. After all, Zayden wasn’t in a state to fight, and Ren still couldn’t reveal his powers—or his origins.

When he opened the door, he found a tan-skinned man grinning at him brightly.

"Yes?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. It was the inn owner.

Zayden watched Ren as he spoke to the man.

"...everything alright..."

"...Thank you, we are..."

He could barely hear their conversation, but Ren’s back facing him unsettled him. Whenever Ren turned around, he was always in front of him—facing him. The only time Ren’s back had faced him was when he was leaving the mansion.

His chest tightened at the thought.

Ren? Leave him?

He forced a small laugh.

He couldn’t leave. At least not Eiran.

When Ren finished talking to the owner, he closed the door. But when he turned, he found Zayden standing right behind him—very close.

Instinctively, he stepped backward, his back colliding against the door.

"M-My Lord?"

"Look at me," Zayden murmured. "Don’t turn your back to me."

Ren narrowed his eyes, perplexed.

"What are you talking about?"

"I told you to take your time, right?" Zayden said, his words slightly slurred but soft. "But... I don’t know if I can wait. It’s not that I’m afraid of how long it might take, but... humans don’t live that long. What if you die from old age? Because surely, I will make sure you never die from injuries, wounds, or disease."

"How do you...?" Ren blinked. He’d said he was human—but he never mentioned being a pureblood.

Even if he had been raised in the Temple, he knew enough about Revhara to understand how rare purebloods were. And how dangerous it was to be one. He feared being taken away by the Magic Temple, turned into nothing more than an experiment.

Zayden leaned closer, his chin resting on Ren’s shoulder. He inhaled softly before speaking again.

"You smell like a pureblood human, aside from your pheromones. Not like those fishy mermaids. Not like proud demons. Not like light elves. Not like wicked—wizards."

"Do. Not. Insult. Wizards," Ren said sharply, fists clenching as he glared at him.

Ilyan was one too. But he wasn’t wicked. He was kind. Gentle. Like the warm breeze at the beginning of summer—the kind that stirred Ren’s soul just by brushing against his skin.

The General blinked, startled.

Ren was angry? Because of wizards?

Then it struck him.

The only reason he’d get this upset... It must be Ilyan.

The only person other than Eiran who could still make Ren’s voice tremble like that.

"Wait," Zayden growled, his voice low. "Was your mate also one?"

"My Lord," Ren frowned, his voice tight. "What he was, what he liked, what he disliked, what he sounded like, what he looked like..." His breath hitched. He paused, eyes burning as tears threatened to fall.

Zayden froze, his hands hovering near Ren’s shoulders but not daring to touch him. He was angry—with himself.

Damn it. What have I done?

Even drunk, he should have known better. He should have kept his mouth shut. He should have swallowed the pain like he always did.

"I-I’m sorry," he murmured. "Please don’t cry. I’m sorry," his voice trembled, his cheeks flushed. He was clearly not thinking straight.

Ren looked up, a tear slipping down his cheek. Not because he was sad. But the memories of Ilyan flashed right before his eyes as if they all happened yesterday.

"Why are you sorry? Are you not the Lord? You are allowed to do whatever you want. I do not have the right to complain."

"Ren..." Zayden whispered. Even knowing he might be pushed away, he wrapped his arms around him tightly. "Oh, dear. What do I do? I’m terrified."

Ren frowned.

"Are you mocking me?" he asked under his breath, suppressing his anger.

Why would the Imperial General Zayden be terrified?