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

Chapter 233 — No Space For Breaking

— The sense of duty is a weight heavier than any other emotions. —

The carriage Enzo had managed to find came to a stop before the royal palace, and the large gate opened for them.

He stepped out first with the help of the guard who held his stick for him. Once he set his feet on the snow, he took back his cane before helping Eiran step onto a place where he wouldn’t slip.

Then, he followed Eiran up to his room, making sure the boy was safely inside before retreating to his own quarters.

"Thank you so much for these!" The child smiled brightly, raising the toys he had received into the air.

"You are welcome," Enzo returned the smile, gently patting the boy’s head.

"Wait!—" Eiran gasped, his hand quickly reaching for his hair. "You will ruin my hairstyle..." he grumbled.

"O-Oh, I am sorry," the man quickly pulled his hand away.

"It’s alright..."

"Well then, good night," he bowed.

"Good night," Eiran’s lips curled into a grin once again.

Then he entered his room. He placed the toys carefully on his bed, wasting no time changing into something comfortable, the day’s excitement having left him sleepy.

However, he wanted to look at the toys one more time before he slept. He crawled onto the soft mattress, taking out the rabbit Enzo won for him from the fish pond. His hand grazed the soft ears, and he giggled.

Placing it aside, he took out a snow globe with a dragon inside—its scales a mixture of red and yellow. The boy’s eyes shone—it looked divine.

Once he had looked at everything he received today, he slipped under the warm covers, drifting off to sleep almost immediately.

Today had been an exhausting day—he had not walked for such a long time before—which drained his energy more than he had realized.

***

When he returned to his palace, the butler knocked on the door.

"Come in," he said, taking off his jacket and handing it to the maid behind him.

The elderly man bowed before speaking. "The Emperor wants to see you."

The red-haired man frowned.

"This late?" He glanced at the window—curtains drawn, but the darkness outside was unmistakable.

The butler nodded, gaze lowered.

"Alright. Tell him I’ll be there shortly."

With another bow, the man left.

Soren changed into more comfortable clothes—though he didn’t have many, as he was almost always required to dress formally. Only a handful of his outfits qualified as "comfortable."

Then, he made his way to the Emperor’s Palace.

Upon arrival, the guards announced him. He stepped into the Emperor’s study, where the fire crackled in the hearth, its warmth filling the room.

His father didn’t look up—he never did.

"So," the Emperor finally said, closing the document in his hands, "you met your fiancé today."

Soren’s brows knit together before he smoothed his expression into a calm smile.

"Yes."

But how do you know? Did you tail someone behind me again?

He wanted to ask, the questions burning at the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed them back.

"Was it a date?" Zaphyr smiled.

Soren’s body stiffened. When did they become close enough to joke like that?

"Is this why you called for me?" he asked, his voice distant and cold.

"Are you perhaps..." Zaphyr’s gaze narrowed, studying his son—who was wearing a rather simple shirt for an Imperial Crown Prince. "Sick?"

Soren’s gaze, which had been fixed on the floor, flickered upward as if he had just heard something absurd.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, you’re dressed so lightly..."

A soft sigh left Soren’s lips. So if he dressed even slightly comfortably, he was assumed to be sick.

In the head?

He scoffed inwardly.

"I am fine. Why did you call me?" He forced a smile.

"I wanted to tell you that the engagement will be held soon. I’ve had preparations in place all these years. No need to waste time striving for perfection."

Soren swallowed hard, blinking.

"And when is it?"

"In two weeks."

At that, the omega nearly stopped breathing. Two weeks? Only two? How was he supposed to convince Rihaan to go through with it in such a short amount of time? What if he refused in front of all the nobles? That emotionally driven man couldn’t be trusted—especially when it came to things he didn’t want to do.

Ever since they were young, Rihaan had been impulsive, though he used to appear calm—the type who observed quietly and spoke little.

Perhaps that was why they had become friends in the first place: two boys who preferred reading over sparring in the palace training grounds.

"Soren."

His father’s voice snapped him back. Not loud, not harsh—just steady enough to pull him out of his spiralling thoughts.

Soren blinked, realizing he had been staring at nothing.

"Yes, Your Imperial Majesty?"

Zaphyr exhaled softly, his gaze sharpening.

"Father. You don’t need to call me like that in private. But... You look pale. Is something the matter?"

Soren’s muscles stiffened. He bit his lips, nails digging into his palms.

Of course, he noticed. Zaphyr always noticed.

Still, the omega forced his shoulders to relax.

"It’s nothing."

A small pause hung in the room.

Then, Zaphyr tilted his head slightly, studying his son the same way he examined ministers during court sessions.

"You carry everything too rigidly. You don’t need to. If this is too early—"

Soren lowered his eyes. Those kinds of words... they were always the hardest to hear.

Because Zaphyr meant them.

Because he cared.

And yet, it all came with expectations Soren could never seem to escape.

"I will be fine," he said, keeping his voice even. "Two weeks are manageable."

Zaphyr hummed, tapping a finger against the armrest in thought.

"As long as you don’t push yourself to the point of breaking."

Soren’s lips twitched into something like a smile.

"I will not." He lied.

Easily this time. Better than his first lie.

He always did.

Because Zaphyr loved him—truly—but as the Imperial Crown Prince, Soren had to fit into a version of perfection that even he struggled to recognize.

And there was no space for breaking.

Not for him.