Free Web NovelChapter 77: Chapter 77: The Boy Without A Name
Chapter 77: The Boy Without a Name
—REN—
After leaving Lady Aria at her chambers, I returned to my own room and sat beside the window for what felt like hours.
The estate had long since fallen silent. The servants had retired. The hallways stood empty. Beyond the glass, the moonlight stretched across the gardens and painted silver patterns over the sleeping grounds.
Everything was peaceful. freewebnσvel.cѳm
Everything except my thoughts.
Again and again, I found myself hearing the same question.
’Ren, I am not that oblivious, but... do you have something you want to tell me?’
For a brief moment inside that carriage, I had nearly forgotten how dangerous simple questions could be.
Lady Aria had spoken innocently and curiously.
Yet somehow those few words had managed to pry open a door I spent years trying to keep shut.
I closed my eyes but almost immediately regretted it. Because the moment darkness greeted me, the past returned.
It always did.
No matter how many years passed.
No matter how carefully I buried it.
Eventually it always found its way back.
Damien Ashford.
Even now, thinking of that name felt strange.
As though it belonged to another person, another life.
Maybe to someone I once knew.
Or someone I abandoned.
Before I became Ren, I had been Damien.
Before I became a servant, I had been the empire’s missing prince.
And before any of that... I had simply been a child.
Looking back now, I think I always knew something was wrong.
Children notice more than adults realize.
They hear conversations not meant for them.
They notice silences.
They remember expressions.
Most importantly, they recognize sadness long before they understand its cause.
I noticed how my mother never spoke about my father.
Whenever I asked, she would smile and redirect the conversation somewhere else. Sometimes she told me stories instead. Stories about knights, wide-winged dragons, and distant kingdoms.
Anything except the truth.
At first, I accepted it.
Children rarely question what they grow up with.
But as the years passed, I began noticing things.
Other children had fathers.
I did not.
Other children knew where they came from.
I did not.
Other children resembled their families.
I looked like no one.
The older I became, the harder those differences became to ignore.
Yet no matter how many times I asked, my mother never answered.
Not until I was twelve.
I remember that evening clearly.
Rain hammered against the roof of our cottage while wind rattled the wooden shutters. A storm had settled over the village and turned the roads into rivers of mud.
Inside, the fire crackled softly.
My mother sat beside it unusually quiet.
At the time, I thought she looked nervous.
Now I realize she looked terrified.
Her hands would not stop moving, folding clothes and then start unfolding it.
Anything to keep her mind occupied.
Anything to avoid looking directly at me as if I was someone who reminded me of a painful past.
When she finally spoke, her voice sounded different.
As though she had suddenly grown tired.
"Damien."
I looked up immediately hearing something in her tone that made my stomach tighten.
That night, she told me everything.
Or at least as much as she could bear to tell.
She had once worked inside the imperial palace.
A simple maid. Nothing more, nothing less.
She spoke of the palace with remarkable detail. The endless hallways. The gardens. The grand celebrations. The glittering nobility.
And eventually...
The crown prince.
The man who would later become emperor.
Even now, remembering the expression on her face hurts.
Because despite everything that happened afterward...
She loved him.
She truly loved him.
Not as the emperor.
Not as the crown prince.
Not even as the future ruler.
But as the man she had fallen deeply in love with.
Or at least the version of him she believed existed.
She told me about their conversations.
Their meetings. The attention he gave her. The kindness she thought was affection. The promises she convinced herself were real.
But then came the night that changed everything.
A single night.
One mistake.
One decision.
One moment.
And afterward, she became pregnant.
I remember listening carefully, expecting the story to improve.
Children are optimistic.
At twelve years old, I certainly was.
Instead, everything fell apart.
The moment she informed him about the child, he threw her out.
Just like that, without any hesitation.
No discussion.
No attempt to take responsibility.
One day she served within the palace.
The next she was standing outside its gates with nowhere to go.
No title.
No protection.
No future.
And no one willing to help her.
I still remember how tightly I clenched my fists while listening.
Even now, years later, the memory makes my jaw tighten.
Not because I wanted a father.
Not because I desired recognition.
But because of what he did to her.
Because despite all her suffering...
Despite her humiliation...
Despite raising me alone...
She still could not bring herself to hate him.
That was the part I never understood.
How could someone continue loving a person who discarded them so easily?
How could someone cling to a memory that brought nothing except pain?
Yet my mother did.
And perhaps that frightened me more than anything else.
Because hope is dangerous.
Especially when it refuses to die.
Years passed and I grew older, taller, and wiser.
My mother remained the same.
She remained gentle and kind.
And hopelessly devoted to a man who had forgotten she existed.
Whenever news from the palace reached our village, she listened.
Whenever the emperor’s name appeared in conversation, she paid attention.
She never spoke about it.
Yet I noticed.
I always noticed.
Part of her still belonged to him.
Until everything changed.
The news arrived during harvest season.
A traveling merchant brought in some delicate news.
Before long, the entire village seemed consumed by the same discussion.
The emperor had suffered a terrible accident.
Nobody knew the details and some claimed it happened during a hunt.
Others blamed magic.
A few whispered about assassination attempts.
But everyone agreed on one thing.
The emperor would never father another child.
I still remember exactly where my mother stood when she heard it.
She had been carrying a basket of vegetables.
The basket slipped from her hands.
Everything spilled onto the ground.
Yet she did not move.
She simply stood there staring, frozen.
And for the first time in years...
I saw hope in her eyes and that terrified me.
Because I knew exactly what she was thinking.
I knew that eventually she would tell them.
Eventually she would reveal the truth.
Eventually someone would learn that the emperor already had a son.
And when that happened...
My life would no longer belong to me.
The realization haunted me for months.
I watched her carefully in every conversation.
Every glance toward the capital.
Every moment she fell silent.
The fear grew little by little.
Not because I believed she would betray me.
But because she still loved him.
And love makes people do foolish things just like I am right now refusing to tell Aria who I really am.
I remember sitting outside our cottage one evening, watching the sunset bleed across the sky.
The fields stretched endlessly before me.
The village looked peaceful, safe, and ordinary.
And suddenly I understood something.
If I remained here...
Eventually the empire would find me.
Whether through my mother, through rumors, or through simple chance.
It would happen.
And when it did, I would become Damien Ashford, the crown prince.
Not simply...Damien.
Not myself.
But an heir to the throne.
A political tool.
A crown prince.
A solution to someone else’s problem.
Everyone would suddenly decide what was best for me.
The emperor.
The nobles.
The ministers.
Everyone.
Except me.
For weeks, I wrestled with the decision.
I told myself I was overreacting.
I told myself nothing would happen.
I told myself I could remain where I was.
But deep down, I already knew.
The moment my mother learned the emperor could no longer produce an heir, my future became a countdown.
Perhaps not tomorrow.
Perhaps not next month.
But eventually someone would come looking for us, specifically, for me.
And when they did, I would lose the right to choose.
So I made my decision quietly without telling anyone, not even my mother.
I decided to leave.
I would disappear so completely that even the empire could not find me. Through magic, I changed my hair from light to dark and even concealed my real age by shifting myself into a child, hiding everything that would lead them to me. I even acted as if I had no talent in magic nor literate enough to study it.
At the time, I told myself it was courage.
Years later, I know better.
It was fear.
Pure and simple.
Because the truth was painfully obvious.
I was terrified of becoming Crown Prince Damien Ashford.
And perhaps that made me exactly what I always suspected.
I am just a coward who ran before anyone could force him to become someone he never wanted to be.
And if Aria knew who I am, I knew she would start treating me like the others. Just the thought of it sent chills down my whole being making my hand tremble in fear.
Aria is mine and I will do anything for her.
