As much as Malin wanted to learn—wanted to be someone Rhaegal could rely on—there was a quiet unease stirring inside him. A whisper that maybe, just maybe, Rhaegal's intentions weren't as pure as he made them seem.
He'd tried to ignore it. Tried to focus and push the doubt aside. But it clung to him like a shadow. The mystery of his origin, the danger that seemed to follow him like a curse, and now, Rhaegal's sudden push for him to learn—it all felt too neatly arranged to be mere coincidence. And the more Malin tried to make sense of it, the heavier the thoughts sat in his chest.
He couldn't take it anymore.
Without a second thought, he opened the door and stepped into the dim hallway. His hands were clenched at his sides as he made his way up the stairs.
When he reached Lord Rhaegal's quarters, he knocked once. The familiar, smooth voice called out from inside.
"Come in."
Malin stepped inside. Rhaegal was seated, the lamplight casting sharp angles on his face. Sir Sullivan had gone.
The vampire looked up, his golden eyes locking onto Malin. "You visit my quarters more than any servant in this estate," he remarked dryly, though there was a ghost of amusement in his tone.
Malin stood in the doorway, unsure how to respond.
Rhaegal studied him a moment longer, then set aside the papers in his hand. "Well? What is it?"
Malin stepped forward, his lips parted, hesitating. His blue eyes shimmered with a quiet mix of confusion and sincerity. "Forgive me, my lord, but I can't help wondering… why do you want me to study?" His voice was soft. "No one teaches a servant to read or write."
Rhaegal arched an eyebrow.
"I'm not saying it's a bad thing," Malin quickly added, "but… it's unusual."
"Take a seat," Rhaegal said, nodding toward the couch beside him.
Malin obeyed, slowly making his way to sit in the same place where Sir Sullivan had sat earlier.The cushion was still warm.
Rhaegal leaned back, his gaze steady. "Tell me—how do you see yourself? A servant? A fragile human?"
Malin opened his mouth, but no words came out.
He'd never truly thought about it before. How did he see himself? The truth was… he didn't know. He didn't feel like just a servant, but he didn't know who—what—he was, either.
Rhaegal watched him, noting the tangled expression on the boy's face. He wasn't surprised by the silence. In a world where werewolves and vampire elites ruled, what did a human have to see himself as expendable? They were little more than livestock—barely tolerated, Kept alive only for the blood that ran through their veins.
That thought hit a nerve in Rhaegal's mind. What if Malin's kind were wiped out of existence. It wasn't impossible. Probably, hunted for their blood and gradually vanished from existence and if so?Why are there no records of their existence? Rhaegal's suspicions grew. However, He tucked those questions away for later and focused on Malin who still had nothing to say in regards to the questions asked.
"You haven't figured it out yet," Rhaegal said quietly.
Malin let out a slow, tired breath. "I really don't know."
He paused. Then the words started to flow, heavy and honest.
"All this time, I thought I was human. I thought I knew who my parents were. But they tried to kill me. I don't know what I am anymore. And it's hard—living a life where nothing makes sense and nothing feels safe."
He looked down at his hands."It scares me. Not knowing who I am, or what I am."
Rhaegal's voice cut through the air—calm, but scolding. "Malin."
The boy looked up, startled by the edge in Rhaegal's tone. Their eyes met.
"What are you afraid of?"
Malin's voice was barely a whisper. "Everything."
He swallowed, struggling to hold back emotion. "What if I fail? What if I can't keep up with the lessons? What if my blood becomes a curse instead of a gift? A danger to everyone in this mansion?"
Rhaegal's hands tightened into fists, though he kept his expression unreadable. The vulnerability in Malin's eyes stirred something deep and unwelcome inside him.
"I didn't realize you thought so little of yourself," he said.
"I don't—it's just… hard not to."
"Danger has always lingered around this mansion. Whether you're here or not," Rhaegal replied. "Being a deputy of the Bureau has earned me more enemies than allies. Your presence doesn't change that."
He leaned forward slightly, his voice growing more serious. "You asked about my intentions. I'll tell you."
Malin straightened a little.
"First," Rhaegal said, "you may be the key to an ancient race long forgotten, and if this true, you need knowledge. You need to be prepared. What use will you be, ignorant and vulnerable, if the time comes?"
Malin's lips parted, surprised.
"Don't you want to find answers? About your parents? About your blood?" Rhaegal continued. "How will you uncover the truth if you're uneducated?"
Malin fell silent.
"Knowledge lifts you from the bottom of the chain. It changes your place in the world, Rhaegal continued. "It turns you from prey into something worth fearing."
"And lastly…" A faint smile touched his lips. "You're intelligent, Malin. Letting that go to waste in the stables would be criminal."
Malin lowered his head. A flush of shame crept up his neck. "I apologize, my lord. I wasn't trying to—"
"It's fine," Rhaegal said, waving a hand. "It's good to know you don't take words blindly. I'm… impressed."
Malin blinked, surprised. He hesitated, then fidgeted with his fingers. "My lord?"
Rhaegal tilted his head. "Hmm?"
"I want to learn to defend myself too. Not just with books. With my hands.
Rhaegal raised a brow, amused. He studied the boy again. Then chuckled, low and thoughtful. "You never cease to surprise me." Then he nodded. "Very well. I'll have Alfred teach you—"
"No," Malin interrupted, shaking his head.
Rhaegal looked at him, puzzled. "No?"
"I want you to teach me," Malin said quietly, but with certainty.
"I'm busy," Rhaegal said flatly—but even as the words left his lips, he frowned. Alfred, though capable, was hardly gentle. The boy might not survive two sessions.
With a sigh, he clicked his tongue. "You have lessons three days a week. I can spare two for training."
Malin's face lit up with a smile that reached his eyes. "Thank you, my lord," he said, bowing.
Rhaegal didn't respond. He only watched him. That smile… it melted something in his chest he didn't want to name.
"You may go," he said, clearing his throat. "I have work to finish."
Malin nodded and turned to leave, his steps light, almost bouncing with quiet joy.
As the door clicked shut behind him, Rhaegal exhaled slowly. His golden eyes lingered on the closed door, something dark flickering behind them. A hunger he refused to name. A restraint he could barely hold.