How to Make a Sinner Sleep - Chapter 4: Chapter 4

It was hard to pretend to not notice a stare, especially when there were dozens, each filled with a different variant of negativity and all equally judging.
The minute Kaden stepped into the expansive classroom, standing at the door as he looked over the entire room flocked with students, gossiping and whispering, he felt it—
—the stares.
Although it wasn't something he wasn't accustomed to, he still felt each one digging into his skin, scratching the surface with no desire to see within. Stares, he found, were the living's favourite and most unreliable way of judging a person.
With every step up the stairs that ran along the divide between the rows, the students ushered a path for him, separating as if a single touch or glance from him would curse them indefinitely.
He was a little offended—he'd taken a shower and smoothened out the wrinkles of his uniform seamlessly out of habit.
"It's him!" One whispered.
Another one stared, wide-eyed. "Have you heard the latest rumours? He's here to kill. Do you see his eyes? It's like they're judging us!"
'You're the ones juging me,' Kaden protested silently, thinking of the irony.
A few of the whispers were more simple. "Trash...!"
Then a stranger one. "Isn't he pretty good eye-candy though?"
"Now that you say that..."
Kaden ignored them, taking a seat in the back row corner. The classmate that was sitting in the room looked up fearfully, and awkwardly grabbed his things before scrambling away. Honestly, it was more awkward to escape than to simply endure Kaden's presence.
Well, they had every right to be fearful—Kaden Chauvet was a murderer.
And he would likely continue to be.
The first class was language, followed by mathematics, and then combat. The teacher for this class was one he remembered particularly.
A man drowning in passion for words, taking meaning from the smallest of things. Somebody who once tried to reason with Kaden, and almost succeeded.
It was a story of failure that Kaden didn't want to remember.
"I'm telling you it's true! The other night, in town, he killed the entire bar of people! Yet he is sitting here like nothing happened!" hissed a girl in a loud whisper, her words large enough to fill the entire room.
Kaden lifted his chin slowly, raising his gaze as he continued to listen.
"I'm not lying, my butler witnessed it with his own eyes! How can one mistake those frightening green eyes, cursed by death! He is a calamity—death follows his wake!"
He would not refuse the truth, or fear.
He'd turn a blind eye to it, used to the biting phrases thrown in his direction, however painful they could be. But he wouldn't claim a misjudgment, admit to a crime he didn't do.
There was a point where things were taken too far.
The man rapped his finger on the old oaken table, tilting his head with a lighthearted smile. The woman slowly turned her head, the visible and harsh lump in her throat swallowed down as her face flushed.
"Aren't you rather daring?" wondered Kaden, adjusting his papers into a neat pile on the desk. "Were you hoping I'd hear you, listen to your rumours? Your ridiculous notions?"
"I have proof—"
"With your own eyes, did you see me do those things you claim?"
She gulped again, shaking her head hesitantly. "I-I did not, however—"
"Be careful what you say, Miss Selena." He remembered this gossiping classmate of his, narrowing his eyes as he laughed curtly. "Unless you're willing to bear the consequences of the lies you're spreading."
The classroom immediately fell into a hushed silence as she spun around, a slight tremble in her hands.
Her friend comforted her, rubbing her back and no doubt telling her to ignore the foolish words of a murderer like Kaden, though he'd been the one disgraced by the false information.
He sighed, leaning further into the chair. Changing his reputation wasn't something he intended to do, nor something that would be easily done with the shackles of the Chauvet's clasped over his limbs.
However, there could be a way to enter the classes he'd always been curious about.
Kaden always felt like he was suffocating, a noose slowly being tightened around his neck, day by day. He was also too aware of the discomfort his presence caused to others, and despised it.
But it was said that one might gain a certain sort of clarity after death, and he felt as if he'd been doused by cool water, refreshed after being woken from a long nightmare. He had to be alone, but how much else could he change?
What else could he do?
At the very least, he didn't need to be completely obedient as he'd once been, living a life that could hardly be called living.
Suddenly, a change in atmosphere in the room clouded over and the whispers begun again. Only, they weren't filled with dripping resentment and instead envy and admiration.
Kaden looked up as the man strolled serenely into the room, his expression fixed and cold, while his each step echoed with arrogance and strength. White-black hair swept back smoothly, yet carrying a messy casualness that added to his charm.
Those soulful eyes met his.
They flickered across the room, before resting in the seat beside Kaden, and the sinner had a terrible feeling.
It grew as the man walked past aisle after aisle, indifferent to all others.
Noah stopped finally, at the very back row, watching Kaden carefully as if their earlier encounter that morning had been a dream. Most of the seats were full, or saved by students who wanted to sit with their friends.
Kaden smiled easily, sliding back the chair next to him. "Won't you join me, Bellamy?"
Noah glanced at the waiting seat gloomily and slid his leather bag off his shoulder before pulling out the chair next to it, a single space separating the two.
When Kaden failed to do anything, Noah reached out and pushed the chair between them back against the table, before turning to face the front.
There were no other open seats in the room, with the exception of the ones in the middle of noisy crowds and groups of friends. Kaden also turned away, feeling the heat of the other who sat in the lonely row, inhabited by only two.
"Good morning, class." The professor strolled in at that moment, smiling patiently at the entire room. "It's a pleasure for me to be teaching you this year, and perhaps for many more to come. I hope you all are prepared for the experience."
Kaden's stare remained fixated on the front, trembling. Another dead body. Another sacrificed.
"My name is Professor Raymond, and I will be your language teacher."
Dead, for the sake of him.
Raymond cleared his throat, still smiling energetically at the entire room. He always had a way with words, of manipulating and arranging them in ways that made a person seen and understood.
"However, today isn't quite the first class. Before we start your journey in the Academy, we must test for your magic aptitude."
Whispers fell along the rows, students gossiping with each other.
"Magic, as you may all be aware of, is something prevalent in our everyday lives. Contracts that can bind us, in the way the famed adventurers battle, and more. However, where does magic come from? Who created the contracts, what powers do the adventurers have? How can we define the root of the normal obscurity riddled in our daily lives?"
"This is something the Academy shares with you students, those blessed by the Watchers. They are unique creatures that we can't even fathom comprehend, beings that judge the living and determines ones' value."
"Not every person is blessed with power, but you all have the highest possibility of being chosen by a Watcher."
"This is one of the qualifications to enter the Academy."
"Often, there is such a variety that we cannot put a number to how many exist, although it is common for a Watcher to bless two separate people. In the Academy, we have divided it into four categories—spectator, astral, psychological and physical."
"Your combat class, as you may expect, will be dependent on the ability you receive. The Academy exists to help you develop your abilities."
A well-dressed man in the front raised his hand. "Professor, is the ability destined at birth or blessed when we are tested?"
"A curious question." smiled Raymond. "We aren't certain when exactly the Watchers have chosen you as the one they want to witness, however, there is a reason that one enters the Academy at the age eighteen. It is only at that age that they seem to be willing to be revealed, to usher you forth from their careful protection."
"Before then, it is possible that they have been quietly guarding you, from the very beginning."
Raymond then put on a solemn expression, his voice seeming to erupt across the room, hammering into everybody's mind. "Be warned. The more one uses their ability, the higher chance of Reversal."
"Reversal?" Somebody wondered.
"The backlash of using an ability. For example, a person who sees the future may forget the past. A person who manipulates time may end up stuck in a cycle of time."
"How do we determine which one has blessed us?"
"That's where I come in, you see. I have been blessed by the Story-teller, the Watcher of Stories. I have been granted the permission to speak and read the stories of the spirits—I can see which one has chosen you, we need only call them out from hiding."
The professor bent down under his podium, placing a bowl of dark liquid on the table. It was calm and smooth despite the darkness that dyed it, remaining still.
"Selena Ackers, please step up."
The gossiping woman from earlier flinched, and nodded, slowly making her way to the front.
"Please place your hand in the bowl, whichever you prefer."
She glanced around, before obediently following his instruction. Her delicate fingers dipped down hesitantly, still obsorbing the knowledge of 'Watchers' and the possibility of magic running in her blood.
The water seemed to tremble before fleeing from the bowl, turning and glittering until the black disputed and all that was left were clear water droplets, hanging high in the ceiling.
They rained down on everybody, seeming to leave a blessing on every surface they touched.
"Wonderful!" exclaimed Raymond, grinning broadly as he nodded. "Selena Ackers, you have been chosen by the Watcher of Pure Rain."
The process continued like that for a while, and Kaden watched every person eagerly. In fact, he wasn't able to witness it the first time.
Reed had said something as important as this was something Kaden, a commoner, didn't deserve to see. That there would be no Watchers willing to bless a killer, a dog loyal to their master.
But this was fascinating. The way the water was manipulated depending on each person's blessing, how unique all of them were even when there were some that were similar or the same.
He listened to the in between explanations of the Professor, spoken calmly so that it didn't feel overwhelming to learn about.
The four categories, spectator, astral, psychological and physical.
The first were those that didn't necessarily provide a power that could be used in a battle, but a power that was used to aid and contribute from the side—hence a spectator.
The professors ability to read the story of spirits and determine each students Watcher was such an ability.
The second, astral, were those who broke boundaries and fell into a more supernatural state, making it also more dangerous. Selena's high ability to purify could be under this category.
The third, psychological, were those that probed into the human mind, manipulating and controlling the subconscious.
Then the last were those that directly enhanced the physique, or gave combat abilities that could directly attack.
"Noah Bellamy." Raymond called out, intrigue glistening in his eyes as if he knew that something entirely chaotic was about to occur. "Please step up."
The seat screeched harshly on the ground as the man stood, strolling down the stairs and past the rows of people with a captivating air that made one unable to look away.
The aura of the dragons that ran in his blood, spilling with every step of indifferent stride. His presence seemed to engulf the entire room.
Noah submerged his hand in the water without instruction, waiting.
And waiting.
Nothing happened, and the room was silent.
"Noah Bellamy." called out Raymond. "Please step—"
The professor faltered, turning his shocked gaze to Noah, who was already standing at the front of the room, hand completely covered in dark water. The dragon lifted his chilling stare quietly, time twisting in his gaze.
Then, something screamed, the wind begun to blow and whistle, storming through the room. The floors were creaking as if they'd aged, and space was being warped and twisted.
The world was crying.
Panic roused through the class, spreading like wildfire as somebody ram for the door in fear, only to appear in the other side of the classroom, now confused and uncertain.
Water flecks spilled into the air, frozen and stopped.
Kaden's entire body felt as if it were burning, memories rushing through his head in a disordered frenzy.
And Noah's stupid, watching gaze didn't move.
Then, when the chaos had become too much, the man slowly removed his hand from the water, coldly observing as everything turned back, returning to normal. Not even a pen out of place.
Noah returned to his seat, leaving the professor with his mouth gaping in utter surprise, completely mesmerized and dazed.
He seemed to be shaken, straightening his collar as he blinked rapidly.
"Noah Bellamy." whispered Raymond with a gasp. "You have been blessed by the Watcher of Time. Incredible, absolutely fantastic."
"Even among the Watchers, there are some that have left a mark in history too permanent to ever be forgotten." explained the professor, a hitch in his voice as his excitement continued.
"That goes to say, all Watchers are unique and memorable, blessing each and every one of you with an outstanding ability. The Watcher of Time is one that had been only recorded once before—by the saviour of humanity during the Great War. A mysterious figure that went unknown by his name, but famous for his identity."
Then, he added, "Noah, please see me after class! I have such a lovely story to tell you, if you are interested of course."
The dragon nodded curtly.
Raymond cleared his throat, pleased before he straightened the bowl of water and announced the next name.
There were a few more after that had rather grand spectacles, with a man by the name of William collecting all the light in the room into his hands and into the water, before dispersing it out again while it seemed as if the sun had been stolen, temporarily.
Kaden was actually a bit worried now—it was going by the alphabetical order of last names, and his had yet to be called.
Was it true that he wouldn't be allowed to try, for the common blood that ran in his veins?
It would be a little disappointing, but not the end of the world. However, the professor had stated that it was one of the requirements to be accepted into the Academy... why hadn't he been given the opportunity in his last life?
But as he thought that, Raymond lifted his head to look straight at him with careful, scrutinizing eyes.
Ones that did not judge, only observe.
"Kaden Alluin Chauvet."
"Please step up."