Knock.
Knock.
A soft knock sounded on the bedroom door.
Garrett turned his head toward the sound, his body tensing instinctively.
Even after a week in this strange place, he hadn’t fully relaxed.
Every noise made him alert, every footstep made him brace for a threat.
It was a soldier’s habit, ingrained too deeply to shake.
His fingers tightened around the edge of the mattress.
The sheets were rough beneath his touch.
He’d memorized every detail of this room over the past seven days—the creak of the floorboards, the draft from the window, the faint scent of dried herbs hanging from the rafters.
It definitely wasn’t the omega who claimed to be the Sol.
That man didn’t seem like the type to knock before entering someone else’s room.
He had that reckless arrogance about him, the kind that made him barge through doors without warning.
He’d already done it once, after all, striding in like he owned the place, his voice dripping with sarcasm and barely concealed contempt.
It had to be the child.
“Hi, Mister!” Theo greeted cheerfully.
Garrett followed the sound of his voice.
Although he still couldn’t see, his hearing had become much sharper over the past days.
He could track Theo’s movements by the soft patter of his bare feet, the rustle of his clothes, the excited cadence of his breathing.
The boy was always in motion, always buzzing with energy.
“Hello.” “Mister, aren’t you bored?” Garrett frowned, his brow furrowing.
The question caught him off guard.
He’d spent so long in silence, so long with nothing but his own thoughts for company, that he’d almost forgotten what it felt like to have someone ask about his wellbeing.
“Why do you ask?” “You’ve been in this room all day,” Theo said.
“You haven’t come out at all.
Not even for lunch.
Syly said you were probably sleeping, but I don’t think you were.” His voice carried a note of concern, higher and softer than his usual exuberance.
“Aren’t you bored?” “…No.” It was a lie.
He hated sitting around doing nothing.
His entire life had been consumed by responsibility.
If he wasn’t on the battlefield, he was buried beneath reports and paperwork.
Being a duke meant there was always something demanding his attention.
Always a letter to write, a decision to make, a crisis to manage.
He’d never had a moment to himself, never had the luxury of stillness.
He had a duchy to govern.
Soldiers to command.
People depending on him.
He’d never had the luxury of wasting an entire day lying in bed.
There was always something to do, someone to see, some fire to put out.
Even sleep had felt like a luxury, snatched in brief intervals between obligations.
“Wow…” Theo sounded genuinely amazed.
“Mister is really strange.” Garrett almost laughed.
Strange?
Coming from a child who lived with a self-proclaimed Sol in the middle of nowhere, that was an interesting opinion.
The boy had no idea how strange his own life was—the hidden sanctuary, the mysterious omega, the barrier that kept the outside world at bay.
He lived in a world of magic and secrets, yet he found a blind knight boring.
The irony wasn’t lost on Garrett.
“Mister, do you want to play with me?” “What about your brother?” Garrett asked.
“It’s Syly’s tea time.” Theo said.
“He won’t play with me during tea time.” Tea time?
Garrett frowned.
That didn’t match the shabby little house at all.
The building was small, cramped, barely furnished.
The walls were thin, the windows drafty, the floors uneven.
It was a commoner’s dwelling, not the home of someone who observed aristocratic rituals.
Tea time was something aristocrats observed.
It was an opportunity to entertain guests, gossip, read, or simply enjoy expensive tea.
It required china cups and silver spoons and delicate pastries.
It was a performance, a display of refinement and status.
Commoners rarely had the time—or money—for such habits.
They drank tea when they could, in whatever cups they had, without ceremony or pretension.
Yet that strange omega somehow treated it like a sacred ritual.
A time for solitude, for reflection, for peace.
Why was a commoner omega doing that?
Nothing about the omega made sense.
“What kind of game?” Garrett asked.
“Do you like board games?” “What kind?” Theo suddenly dashed past him, his footsteps quick and light.
Garrett heard drawers opening, wooden pieces clattering together, and something heavy being dragged across the floor.
A drawer slammed shut.
Then another.
The boy was rummaging with recklessness and unconcerned with noise or order.
A moment later, Theo returned, slightly out of breath.
His footsteps were heavier now, burdened by whatever he carried.
“Come on, Mister!” Garrett followed him, his hands reaching out to find the wall.
He followed the sound of Theo’s voice, his fingers trailing along the rough surface.
Theo guided him toward one of the sofas before dumping several game boxes onto the table with an excited grunt.
The wood creaked beneath the weight, groaning in protest.
Garrett reached out and picked up the first box, running his fingers over its surface, searching for the title.
The cover was smooth, the edges slightly worn.
He traced the letters, feeling the indentations of the words.
“That’s Serpents and Ladders,” Theo announced proudly.
Garrett blinked.
What kind of name was that?
He quietly put it aside, setting it on the floor beside the sofa.
His hand found another box, this one larger and heavier.
The cardboard was thicker, the edges reinforced.
“That one’s called…
Mono…” Theo paused, his voice trailing off.
Garrett could hear him squinting at the box, trying to decipher the letters.
“…It’s a really big word.” “It’s alright.” “Syly knows the full name.” Garret wasn’t interested in asking that arrogant omega for the name.
Theo nodded seriously, as though this was a matter of great importance.
Garrett could imagine the boy’s solemn expression, his tiny brow furrowed with concentration.
“How do you play this game?” Garret asked.
“It’s easy!” He opened the box, the cardboard lid scraping against the edges.
Garrett heard him pulling out pieces, setting them on the table.
The clatter of wooden tokens, the rustle of paper money.
“You roll dice, collect money, run away from the guards, and try not to go to jail.” Garrett raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical.
His lips pressed together in a thin line.
“…Should children be playing something like that?”