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

Chapter 355 — What Kind Of Joke?

"You truly are an asshole."

With that, Ren turned on his heel and strode back toward his bedchambers. He had already forgotten why he had come to see this man in the first place. Someone who couldn’t even respect a dead friend wasn’t worth a conversation. The kind who would pick apart anything, find fault wherever they pleased—just like a demon such as—

Ren halted.

That wasn’t right.

He shouldn’t curse all demons so carelessly. Not when a man like Zayden existed among them.

Zayden, who would say with quiet conviction, "Even if I am called a demon—the source of all evil—I still try to be a good person."

"You are a good person," Ren whispered under his breath, a soft smile forming on his lips.

Vincent watched the omega’s figure fade into the darkness of the hallway.

He didn’t follow.

He didn’t need to.

Among the crowd of unfamiliar faces, one caught his eye—someone he had begun to recognize. A supposed foreign merchant his mother had hired. At least, that was the story. Vincent had his doubts from the start, but seeing the man again confirmed it.

A spy.

"By now, he must have already told that new lover of yours your real identity," Vincent sneered, crossing his arms. "You will return to Hianshu. It’s the only place that will ever accept you, Raniel..."

Hearing a soft groan, he peeked through the small crack of the door.

One of the servants sleeping in the hall was most likely having a nightmare.

Rolling his eyes, clearly not caring, Vincent entered the hall, returning to his dedicated space. He would surely need some energy for tomorrow. Even if he carried the blood of a demon—his mother—he was still a half-human.

***

Seated on the couch, the two men sat in silence for a moment. Barely even the sound of their breathing could be heard—a faint rhythm that did nothing to ease the tension settling over the room.

"Zayden," Zion finally broke the silence. "Did you even hear anything I just said?" He sighed, leaning forward, his elbows pressing into his thighs.

Zayden didn’t answer.

His dark blue brows drew together as his gaze lowered, unfocused. For a long moment, he stared at the teacups resting on the table, alongside untouched glasses of wine. The liquid inside trembled ever so slightly—though whether from his unsteady hand or something even he didn’t know.

He had refused to drink—one of the rare times he ever did. And yet, tonight, Zion—the same man who would usually nag him for it—had been the one insisting.

He should have known.

It was suspicious.

And still... he had agreed, following the man.

Because it was Zion.

Because he trusted him.

Because—

His fingers curled slowly against his knee, replaying the words that came out of his friend’s mouth a few moments prior.

Ren... was from Hianshu?

The thought didn’t settle. It didn’t fit. It scraped against everything he knew, everything he believed—like forcing a blade into a wound that had never existed to begin with. Or it was there but the pain was so light that one wouldn’t have even noticed until another wound formed on it.

Zayden’s chest tightened.

No. It can’t be.

He told himself.

That alone should have been enough to shake him. But it wasn’t.

Ren was a member of the Temple.

The Temple and its people.

The very same people who had driven his kind out like filth—who had branded them monsters, demons, things unworthy of breathing the same air as them. The same people whose orders had led to blood soaking the earth beneath his feet—Zayden’s jaw clenched.

And then came the last blow.

Ren was the one who had taken countless lives.

Not strangers. Not faceless enemies.

His comrades. His friends.

For a moment, something in his blank expression cracked.

It was subtle—so subtle most wouldn’t notice. But Zion did.

Zayden’s gaze wavered, just slightly, as if the world before him had shifted out of place. The calm composure he always wore so effortlessly now felt like something he had to hold together—piece by piece, breath by breath. He could feel the blood boiling in his eyes—like flames of rage.

His throat moved, but no sound came out.

Ren’s face surfaced in his mind—those quiet eyes, that restrained voice, the way he would stand just a step behind him as if unsure whether he belonged there.

A lie.

Was it all truly just a lie?

Or—had it been real?

His fingers curled into a tight fist.

"...Zayden?"

Zion’s voice sounded distant.

Zayden finally blinked, but the motion was slow, almost delayed. When he exhaled, it came out uneven—barely controlled.

"...Say it again," he muttered, his voice low, roughened in a way it had never been before. "Everything you just said."

Because some part of him—some stubborn, foolish part—still refused to believe it.

It refused to accept that the person he had begun to trust... to keep close... was the same one who had torn pieces out of his past and left them buried in blood.

"You heard me. I said—that servant—Ran or Ren, whatever his name is—is from Hianshu."

Zion pulled out the portrait he had carried with him throughout the entire trip. Without a word, he turned it toward Zayden and slowly unrolled it.

The faint rustle of parchment echoed in the silence.

Zayden didn’t move at first. Then, as the image revealed itself, his blood-red gaze locked onto it—and stilled. His breath caught.

The world seemed to narrow, shrinking down to nothing but ink and paper.

A face too familiar.

The eyes were hidden beneath a white cloth, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t change anything.

He knew that face.

The sharp line of the jaw. The thin curve of the lips. Features he had memorized, piece by piece.

Ren.

His fingers twitched at his side.

No.

There was no room for doubt.

This wasn’t a mere resemblance even if he wanted to deny it.

It was indeed him.

Something in Zayden’s chest gave way—sudden and brutal, like a blow he hadn’t braced for.

All those moments—they were all indeed lies.

"...What kind of joke is this?" he said at last, though his voice lacked conviction. It came out low and strained—like something dragged from deep within his chest.

He swallowed, but the knot in his chest didn’t ease.

"...It has to be."