How to Make a Sinner Sleep - Chapter 19: Chapter 19

The bar's hushed whisperings that contained all sorts of illegal dealings was normal in the Inky Tavern, built for the privacy of nobles and the foolish beggars that gained a temporary shelter.
Here, the hierarchy was absolute.
When one proved useless to the noble, they would be immediately refused entry and left to plead fruitlessly on the streets again.
Yoser thought of himself as lucky to have gained a long-term deal with a noble, allowing him to indulge in debauchery for many years to come. However, he was well aware of the way of the world, and without extra money, he wouldn't survive later.
That was why, for the sake of his own survival, he would not reject the idea of selling his own flesh and blood.
The scrawny child indeed carried the image of the once beautiful woman, his wife that laid beneath the earth. Thinking of that, Yoser paused in his drinking.
The other man raised his glass. "What now, hm? Changing your mind already?"
"It might leave a bad taste in my mouth. I did love that woman. His mother, you know." said Yoser slowly, taking another swig.
And that was no lie.
He'd courted the beautiful, kind, and lovely woman for a decade before she agreed to his proposal. It'd been a beautiful dream, the small cottage in the woods that had made her face light up in joy.
The happy family of three, despite their poverty, had lived well. Yoser recalled how his son once ran up to him happily, how he'd lift him up and swing him around.
His mind was blurry, intoxicated and worn out from the years of alcohol.
It was all so, so happy—until she left him.
Betrayed him, running away with another man and not leaving behind a single letter or offering. He'd wanted to trust her, in the beginning, his love still fresh and strong.
All the taunting whispers in his ear, the scorn and the mockery. How the people of the slums said he'd fallen for a vixen, that he was delusional to believe she loved him. Years and years, he endured the taunting.
How could he continue in trusting somebody who wasn't there for years on end?
And then that noble had approached his house, offering a sum of money for his child—one that his wife had supposedly sold in her faraway destination.
Of course, he accepted the money. Of course, he agreed to the terms.
This was his wife's last will to him, the confirmation that she'd truly left him for wealth. Yoser's mind shattered, heartbroken and filled with rage and vengeance.
He abandoned everything.
Save for the child that still carefully opened the door every evening, calling out for him in a broken, fearful tone.
His companion across the dirty wooden table slammed his drink down, giving a hearty laugh. "This was your issue Yoser, you trusted that vixen for so long, and look where it got you! She left you! You weren't good enough, clearly."
"...so you have been telling me for years, bastard. I'll think about it further, but not right now. I want to drink, tch." Yoser waved his thick fingers sluggishly, shaking his head. "Shoo, get out. You're irritating me."
"Sure, sure. I'll talk to you next time, and I hope to hear some good news."
The man stood up, winking with a sickening smile stretched on his peeling lips, and sauntered off with his arm around a frail woman, no likely heading out for the night,
Yoser continued to take drink after drink, his face flushed as he leaned against the table. A shadow appeared before him, and he lifted his eyes groggily.
"Ha? Didn't I tell you... leave... get out?"
The man ignored his words, and the chair scrapped against the ground, as he took a seat in it. His posture was straight and shadowed eyes peered down at him with an arrogant glare.
Yoser had seen something similar in that bastard son of his.
Before he could aggressively speak, the other man spoke. "I heard what you were talking about. Might I inquire more?"
"Heard what, idiot?"
The man leaned forward slightly, and a waiter passed by to place a glass at his side. He glanced over, and swirled the glass, the deep red liquid sloshing in a hypnotic pattern.
"You want to sell your son?"
"Ha? I said I'd think about it! Not that I would!" snapped Yoser, half delirious as he wobbled, moving his head up. "Anyway, it's none of your damn business!"
"What if I said I was interested?"
"I said—"
Kaden raised three fingers in the air. The currency was simple to understand, valued in copper, silver and gold. Most used silver, a regular income of around 3 thousand silver a year.
100 copper made for one silver, and 100 silver made for 1 gold.
"What?" Yoser squinted at the fingers. "Are ya giving me a price? What is that, silver, gold—"
"Gold."
Something changed in Yoser's gaze. "How much? 3 gold?"
For somebody living in the slums, a single gold was an incredible amount. Even for a regular person, 3 gold was something that could take a month of hard work.
Yoser widened his eyes incredibly, soberness slapping over his face in a second. He coughed, spluttering on his drink before shaking his head. "You're joking! Only nobles that afford that much, and even for a noble that's—"
Of course Kaden was joking.
He had to steal money off Noah to buy snacks at a festival, why would he have 300 gold to spare? He was broke, completely and utterly. His wallet so empty that it saddened him to look at.
And though it was true, for nobles of the higher ranks, a sum like 300 gold might be uselessly thrown to waste. He was a noble. He just wasn't rich.
However, he cleared his throat and raised his chin haughtily, a shallow laugh bubbling from his chest. "Would I say such a thing if I were joking?"
The answer was yes, yes, he would.
On the other hand, Yoser gulped loudly, feeling the imposing air of the person before him. He straightened immediately.
He lowered his voice, glancing around cautiously. "If you're serious, then perhaps we can make a deal. However, there is a certain noble that has their eye on my son, and may get involved if he is sullied."
Kaden laughed softly. "Are you insulting me? Do you think my identity is so little that I should fear another noble, another scum of my kind?"
"N-no, but—"
"Haa... you're testing my patience—and I have little of it to spare." Kaden smiled, flashing his teeth as he spread out his arms carelessly. "Yes or no, you pathetic fool? I can find pleasure elsewhere, if I please."
"Yes! Yes, yes, I accept." Yoser said hurriedly, gulping down his drink, blinking rapidly. "I just thought to warn you, sir—"
"The question is, are you willing to offend that noble you fear?"
A chilling breeze rushed through the front door, and Yoser shivered, thinking to those cold eyes of that man who paid him to monitor his own son. A dead man's gaze, not a speck of emotion in them.
"You're selling your own blood." sneered Kaden, mocking as a twist of disgust flashed in his eyes. "Have some conviction, if that's the path you decided on."
"I'll agree! I'll do it, I can."
"Then we have a deal, Yoser?"
A black glove was stretched out, encasing slender fingers that slightly curled at the tips. Yoser stared at it nervously, keeping his head slightly lowered.
His bottom lip wobbled nervously.
"My son—he's young. His body is frail. In fact, with that sum of money, would you prefer to buy him entirely—"
"What are you trying to say?"
Yoser fell silent. The man in front of him was rich, powerful. If he could just give away his son, a reminder of his wife's betrayal and also something that made guilt prick his chest every day.
And perhaps that boy would live a better life with this noble, enjoying luxuries.
Kaden stared at him silently, grinding his teeth. "You're selling your son for a single night. I don't want to keep him like a pet, go ahead and keep making money off a child's body. Do you dare to say you feel guilt?"
"I-I'm still his father, I can't watch and—"
"You are no father."
Yoser flinched, as if slapped. A sudden soberness washed over him, after years of intoxication and running away.
"Do you understand what you've agreed to? To tarnish your son, to use him as a means to make money. To allow him to become a shattered, broken thing, a noble's toy. I could kill him, and you wouldn't dare stop me."
Yoser shook his head. "That's not what I agreed to—"
"But you agreed. Knowing the possibilities, you agreed. You have no right to feel guilty when you're delivering him to the devil with your own hands."
A person committing something knowing how wrong it was had no right to play the hypocritical hero. Guilt was saved for those aware of their choices—not those pretending they didn't know.
Kaden gazed at him coldly and stood up. "I'll bring the payment to your house in a few days—and our agreement will be fulfilled."
He leaned closer, dropping his voice into a soft, threatening whisper. "If you want to play the role of 'father' one more time, why don't you run?"
But Kaden knew that Yoser wouldn't run when the weight of money pressed him down. He would continue to pretend to not see his crimes, his sins, and Arlo would continue to suffer.
It was a disgusting thing.
Kaden couldn't bear to stay any longer, having gained everything he needed to hear. The recording would prove the man's readiness to betray Reed, and the latter would undoubtedly act.
He spun around and left the bar, stepping onto the cobbled streets.
It was late into the night, and the cold scattered over his body. A chill sunk into his skin, and he lifted his chin to stare at the luminescent moon.
He felt as if dirt had crept underneath his nails, covering his entire body. He wanted to scrub it clean until his skin turned red. Kaden could hardly save himself. Could he save another person?
For the many people in the slums, how many stories like this existed?
Children abandoned by their parents, parents who pretended that they weren't doing anything wrong. Youth selling their body to survive, the rich laughing from their high seats.
The dirty corruption of the world.
And Kaden was another pawn playing to the tunes of a noble. He was another hypocrite, practicing salvation when being a sinner himself.
He felt like he was sinking deeper into a marsh, drowning.
At some point, he'd entered the dormitories, pushing the door open mindlessly, still lost and distracted. He didn't even realize he was back, still hearing the crowded bar and the filthy streets.
Noya, the groundkeeper, had left for the evening, or wandered to the washrooms. Regardless, he could slip inside without her scolding.
He stumbled inside, looking faint. The illness of his expression made him appear weaker, vulnerable.
He stumbled again, and something reached out to catch him.
Kaden felt a steady pulse, a warmth that enveloped his entire body. It was late, and any person should've gone to sleep at this time.
But—
"Kaden."
Somebody had stayed up, waiting. Waiting for his foolish room mate to come back from wherever he went.
"Bellamy, I'm in no mood to joke around." muttered the man, exhaustion suddenly tiding over his body all at once.
Noah gazed at the person in his arms, barely standing straight. Broad shoulders, and a tall height that was slightly hunched, tired. The dragon himself was tired, often choosing to sleep at a reasonable time.
He didn't know what possessed him to wait, perhaps the emptiness of the tidy bed beside him too unnatural. The room too big for a single person.
He helped Kaden to sit on the bed, pulling off the hat that hid his face. Tumbles of dull pink hair fell out, a lowered head hanging depressively.
Noah bent on one knee to sit in front of the man, rather than beside.
"Kaden."
There was no response.
Noah sighed, though his face remained patient. "Tomorrow, we'll be cooking various egg dishes. Do you know how to tell if a boiled egg is cooked or not? If you put a boiled egg back with raw eggs, there still is a method to tell it apart."
Kaden moved slightly, his lips slowly furling in confusion.
The night was still silent, and Noah breathed calmly, continuing in a steady voice that was slightly quieter from tiredness.
"A boiled egg keeps spinning if you spin it, and a raw egg doesn't."
Kaden blinked. "Really?"
"Really." Noah cocked his head. "Do you want to know anything else?"
It was such a pointless topic, and both their minds were weary and sleepy. Kaden wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of the conversation, but he didn't want to speak. Instead, he nodded.
Noah observed him, half-lidded eyes gazing up. "There is also a way to test the freshness of an egg."
"That is...?
"If you put an egg in a bowl of cold water, and it floats, then it isn't wise to eat it. Due to the gas accumulated inside. If it sinks, it can still be eaten."
"Is... that so?"
The man started to sway, his eyes opening and closing sleepily, drifting off to the lull of Noah's voice. Kaden was incredibly tired, worn down from the ugly sights he'd seen. From how ugly he felt inside.
"Have you ever seen an egg inside another egg?"
"Hm... no... how does that happen?" Kaden closed his eyes, laughing at the thought. He'd never heard of such thing.
"It's rare, but occasionally a hen might lay an egg inside another egg. It's due to a phenomenon called a counter-peristalsis contraction."
"That sounds rather... interesting..."
Kaden's eyes were heavy, and his words slowly drifted away. His entire body moved, and he slumped to the side. Noah stretched out a hand to catch the falling head.
The sleeping man's breathing soon filled the room, shallow and quiet breaths that Noah had to arch his head to hear. He laid the body down, tugging out the blankets underneath and laying them on top.
He was careful not to directly touch Kaden's skin if he could help it, knowing that the other was adverse to touch.
Noah watched as Kaden groaned, shuffling and curling into a small ball, moving towards the wall. His eyebrows were furrowed, as if stuck in a nightmare.
"...fool." The dragon looked around and pulled a glove over his black-scaled hands, permanently tainted.
He smoothened the crease skin between the shut eyes, and Kaden's expression relaxed slightly.