How to Make a Sinner Sleep - Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Kaden had a habit of waking up early.
In the slums, day and night didn't matter and danger followed every second, every minute and every hour.
One had to be prepared to be attacked when they slept, and any scraps of food had to be swallowed immediately lest somebody steal them away from unwilling arms.
It was a battle for survival.
Even in that entirely different reality where he lived, studied, and experience a scene unlike any other, certain habits never fell away. The modern world, however, was a peaceful solace to the sinner whose mind had worn away over years.
In the new life of nobility during his first life, Kaden learned it was still a struggle for survival.
Another battle, just on a different playing field.
With intelligent humans that possessed knowledge beyond what a hungry child from the slums could ever. It was trickery and deceit, more vicious than he'd ever witnessed.
He didn't really sleep much, studying to catch up on the years of missing knowledge.
To prove himself, to show that he wasn't worthless even if that was all that anybody could think of him as. However, his desire and quick learning only created harsher expectations for himself.
The King, once, caught him reading late into the night.
The man in his empty, emotionless words had quizzed him on the book he was reading.
Mathematics a level higher than his age, something that he didn't need to learn for another few years. Not that the ten-year-old had been aware of that, assuming that he had to know everything.
Unsurprisingly, he failed to answer the quiz correctly.
He was beaten until a permanent scar ran up his leg, adding to the collection and then thrown into the Room.
The Room was a dark cell with cold metal floors, worse than a prison. Completely black, where not even the tiniest sliver of light could enter. For the young child, it was a manifestation of the worst hell imaginable.
That was their most common punishment.
And he would lose his mind over a few nights, crying, sobbing to be released. He'd slam his fingers against the walls, scratch until blood seeped from under his nails before curling up with infected wounds, muttering consolidations to himself.
'I'll be okay, I'll be okay, I'll be okay.'
'I can survive.'
'This is nothing.'
The man rubbed his temples, shoving away the intrusive memories. He was sitting up with his hair in uncommon, messy tangles, sitting in a wild nest on his head while he blearily stared into the distance, dozing off.
Not that he'd go back to sleep even if he wanted to.
He yawned with a wide mouth, revealing a clean row of white, before he licked his dry lips. Although he had a habit of waking early, that didn't mean he was a pretty waker.
Breakfast wasn't something he was used to eating, so he opted to skip it and wait for lunch.
If there were any perks about entering the Academy, it was that they cooked the food to perfection, skillfully made by professionals that threw their passion into easy but unique dishes.
Kaden always envied their skill and was intrigued by what went on within the clamoring kitchen.
He made for the building after slipping his uniform over, prepared for class. Sure, his hair was tied back a little more messily than usual, but he was tired and couldn't be bothered fixing it. A second life meant throwing all reservations out of the window.
He didn't need to strive to play the neat and proper noble, obedient to that spoiled and selfish Crown Prince. One whose appearance was a textbook noble's elegance, yet actions were as wild as the stray cats on the street.
As he was walking, he saw the bulletin board covered in papers—clubs, classes, and events.
It was the easiest way to spread information or promote things, often checked in the morning by the students. A newspaper of some sorts, public and on display.
Classes. The first three were compulsory, and the second three were his own choices.
Before, he had followed Noah into his classes after bribing somebody to reveal it to him, in an attempt to befriend the dragon and manipulate him.
It went without saying that Kaden was absolutely terrible and befriending people, and actually ended up irritating Noah to the point of hatred.
The most annoying thing about that situation was that Kaden genuinely had been interested in some of Noah's classes.
Although one of the classes, Noah had switched at mid-way in the end, and the other had been false information.
Wind whistled down the hall, and the morning's greeting brushed by his cheek. Slowly turning his head, he noticed a large painting framed and hung on the wall, standing in its exquisite allure as it changed the atmosphere of the entire hallway.
A painting of pure black and white, with the chaos of scribbled letters and notes scratched into the paint in an organized frenzy. Thoughts threatening to spill out, threatening to escape and scream, piercing through any barrier.
In the middle, the white silhouette of a man stared out at a light that escaped into the distance, seeming both far and close at the same time.
An exit—but could he reach it?
Or was he stuck in the darkness of madness that would eventually consume him?
Yet his straight and confident stance revealed a certain charm of elegance, aware of life and decision, moving without hesitation.
Somebody who'd chosen to watch the light from afar, chosen to abandon hope that could be reached with the slight raise of an arm.
Kaden mulled over his choices.
He could continue this stupid facade which would ultimately end in his destruction, or start anew. At the very least, there was no need to be so obedient anymore.
Was there any point in continuing this rebirth if his sole purpose was revenge?
He didn't want to live for the sake of revenge. He wanted to live, to experience and explore. Although revenge and redemption were a necessity to relieve him of his past, it wasn't the only thing he needed to focus on.
Things he could do, mind now unclouded by the warped desires of futile wanting, of the desperation of love.
He didn't need that anymore.
He didn't need anything, or anybody, other than himself.
Footsteps grow closer behind him, softly clattering along the oaken floors in their silence. It stopped beside him. Kaden didn't turn his head to see.
They remained soundless, wordless.
Finally, Kaden cracked a lopsided smile and raised his chin to the board beside the painting. "Do you plan to take any particular classes, sir Dragon?"
Noah lowered his head, turning to glance at him coolly. "I do."
"What classes?" wondered Kaden, thinking of his mission. To trick Noah, and then steal him away from the prying hold of society, force him into a darkness he'd never escape from.
Although he didn't think Noah would reveal it—
"The Concept of Magic, Ancient Languages and Culinary."
Kaden paused. They were different from what they had been in his previous life.
It was a choice Kaden hadn't expected—but really, what did he know about this man that he placed on a pedestal, slapped the title of somebody fated for greatness without acknowledging that in fact, Noah, was something living and breathing, thinking as complicated thoughts as his own.
His mocking grin faltered, and his eyes mellowed into something thoughtful, curious. For a second, he just wanted to have a normal conversation with this man, a passing stranger.
Normal.
Something he'd never been used to.
Although that wasn't an option, he figured so long as he was careful in his wording, he could do something similar.
He cleared his throat, turning back to the painting, but the eyes that were looking at him remained steady, unfaltering. "I didn't think dragons were artistic creatures."
Annoyance flickered over himself at his own words of discrimination.
Judgment was far too common, and humans made an assumption about things they didn't know.
Things they didn't want to know, because once they realized their false intelligence on the subject was lies, they'd also realize how terrible they were to make such cruel insights.
Noah studied him. "I enjoy art."
"Really? What sort of art do you do?"
"Write."
"Is that classified under the art department?" wondered Kaden genuinely.
He supposed writers were creators making something out of nothing. That's what an artist was—a creator. And really, anything could be called art so long as the person who made it thought of it as such.
A soft breath released beside him, Noah's voice a low timber that bristled with passion.
"I am an artist, and my medium is words."
Kaden stared at him, blinked, and then chuckled under his breath, eyes curving warmly in amusement.
He figured, that was a rather eloquent way of wording it, and that speaking to this man really wasn't bad at all. But as soon as that thought entered his mind, he chased it away, digging rounded nails harshly into his palm.
"What sort of things do you write?" He was losing himself in conversation, and he needed to return to reality. Yet he couldn't help asking, couldn't help his interest.
"What I see, what I don't. I write what my eyes witness, and what my ears overhear."
It certainly didn't help that Noah was indulging his questions with carefully thought answers.
"You're rather poetic."
"Hm."
The man searched for another topic to bring up. Technically, befriending Noah, or at least putting on the pretense of it, would get Reed off his back.
He didn't know when or where his 'brother' was watching.
Therefore, he put on a flirtatious smile—the sort that would irritate a straight-laced person like Noah. "I do like poetic people."
Kaden closed his eyes briefly, taking a dragging blink as he tugged at his gloves that enveloped his hands, disguising the hideous scars that decorated his body.
Whatever he thought didn't matter.
Noah's opinion of him was likely devastatingly horrible, and would only to continue to worsen. Blood already stained his hands, and he was certain more would pool until he was drowning in it. Suffocating in the mess of his own sins.
"And you?"
Kaden snapped his eyes up to Noah, a haunted swirl in the pale emerald gaze before he scoffed, shoving his hands into his pants. "Why would I waste my time on something like that?"
A bitter laugh. "Perhaps I'll join one of the classes if there's somebody of interest, but I see no other reason to mingle with commoners."
"Commoners." repeated Noah darkly, seeming to roll the word with his tongue, making it seem almost like a curse. "You speak as if you weren't one of them, once."
The orphan tensed his shoulders—his birthright wasn't a secret, having him suddenly appear one day. Although most didn't dare to point it out, so long as he carried the Chauvet's name.
And in truth, he never truly belonged to the Chauvet's family, so it wasn't as if he'd suddenly gained a family over the years. He was still alone.
He would remain alone, even surrounded by people.
"I am not anymore."
"That doesn't change your past, Kaden Chauvet." Noah's frown deepened as he stepped closer, lowering his eyes. Kaden realized that the dragon had incredibly long lashes, framing their eyes and adding a somewhat more ethereal feeling. "It was my mistake trying to reason with a fool."
Kaden smiled, laughing sarcastically. "You're right. It was your mistake to even try."
"You're playing a ridiculous act."
"And what if I told you, Bellamy, that it isn't a farce, that this is who I am?"
The air was chilling, nibbling away at their flesh and drumming against their ears. Both stubborn fools refused to look away, unwilling to back down from their claims. It was Noah who broke the silence.
"I don't know who you are, Chauvet." He began in a murmur, a passing thought. "And if this is truly all that you can be, then I am throughly disappointed."
The next questioned slipped out of Kaden's lips before he could think twice, lost in the dark canvas of Noah's gaze. "If I took it a step too far, would you stop me?"
The man shifted back in surprise, scowling. "I would stop you before it reached that point."
"I'm looking forward to it then, Bellamy."
"...do you intend to—"
"I can't ruin the surprise." Kaden raised a gloved finger to his dry lips, inked in a sly smile that promised only mischief. "But I guarantee that it'll exceed your expectations."
Noah shook his head with irritation and contempt before turning on his heel, walking away without another word.
Kaden didn't watch, remaining faced toward the painting and the strange, despairing man whose expression couldn't be seen.
He reached out a finger to run it along the crazed words, unable to make out the tangles of incoherent sentences.
He stretched out a finger, running it along the streams of dark metal chains until somewhere in the image, it broke, splintered into pieces. Big letters, small letters, long lines and short phrases all entangled together.
But in the mess that they sat in, how could anybody read them?
Hear the secrets that desperately screamed out?
"Are you looking to escape?" wondered Kaden, closing his eyes to feel the rush of wind brush his cheeks. "Wanting to run away?"
He made out several letters—H, E, L, P.
Help.
S, A, V, E, M, E.
Save me.
Or was it his own delusion searching for his own thoughts, mixed in with the scribbles? He couldn't tell. He always had been prone to hallucinations, however.
" Are you trapped in the madness of your own creation, surrounded by thoughts that scream in your ear?"
He had the invisible noise of that darkness, in the Room where he often found himself locked in, and the castle which he was rarely allowed to leave. The luxurious building was not a place of admiration, but a prison.
The Academy had been a blessing, really, had it not been tainted by the King's mission and Reed's sorry looking personality.
He rested his forehead against the dry paint, chest rising slowly.
'Do you regret it?'
The low hum of thought from his dying days in his first life echoed again in his mind. It'd taken him isolation to regret, to gain the strength to make a stand.
Then the voice that spoke to him in his second life, 'Are you happy?'
Was he allowed to be?
He understood what the man in the painting felt, standing so close and yet so far away from the light he yearned for. A person that had accepted his fate, stuck in his own words.
Despite that, a part of him pleaded for something new. To be dragged out into the brightness that they could only dream of.
Kaden laughed wryly to himself, turning away. "I must be going mad. Talking to myself like this. Hallucinating voices, again."
Yet in the back of his mind, that same, unknown voice called out regretfully.
'I only wanted to save you.'