How to Make a Sinner Sleep - Chapter 67: Chapter 67

The noises in the cafeteria felt far away despite filling the surroundings with liveliness and youth. A chair scrapped against the ground as a young boy inched closer.
"Next time, can't I come with you?" Arlo clung to the corner of Kaden's vest, hesitant but imploring.
It must've taken him a long time to work up the courage to ask.
Kaden sighed, ruffling the boy's fluffy hair that had once been mangled and dry. He'd gotten more plump as well, having more flesh to his bones. The child was still on the shorter side for his age, but if they proceeded this way, perhaps he'd shoot to the sky.
He was grateful to the professors who helped care for the child, a random stray he brought and insisted upon caring for.
Due to the uniqueness of the Academy, they didn't question his abrupt actions and allowed him to do as he pleased. Even Kaden had been prepared for some questioning, an interrogation or two.
Kaden had, however, seen how curiosity gleamed and twinkled along the delicate rim of Raymond's glasses.
Perhaps Kaden himself received special treatment that excused his existence. His abnormal activities during the night; his presence that was cautioned by many.
"Kaden! Are you listening to me?" whined the boy.
Kaden sighed again with a smile. "I am."
"You're messing up my hair!"
"Look at you, learning how to complain? But this is my special privileged of having taken you in. This is payment."
"Payment... mn, that makes sense. I owe you a lot!"
"...I was joking. You owe me nothing for the choices I made." He flicked the child's smooth forehead lightly. "Understand, kid?"
Arlo rubbed his forehead, making it even redder. He pouted. "Sure!"
A passing couple with linked arms glanced over and giggled, whispering to each other, fondness in their gazes. Kaden moved his chair closer to the table. Stares, he hated but was used to. But stares that weren't of hatred and judgment—that was strange.
The chime of the lunch's end bell rang, and Kaden looked sideways. "Arlo, I need to attend my class. Believe me, I'm sorry I can't be with you. Just this once, I can skip my lesson to spend more time with you."
Kaden observed the child's face. He specified, because he really couldn't promise skipping multiple classes for the child's sake.
They'd both known what they were getting to—though Kaden had been more aware. He once again debated his decision back then, and though it had been Arlo's choice of three, had he made the right decision?
Kaden had nothing to provide a growing life, nothing to give but himself—and even that could only be given sparingly.
Children weren't simple to raise; it wasn't the beautiful world that some imagined. It was difficult, with a single action to mold their personalities, an act out of turn to influence them in a horrendous way.
Raymond and Alexander had been giving Arlo lessons in their free time, or so Kaden had been informed despite not asking.
It seemed that the pair had grown fond of the inquisitive child.
Arlo, despite being born in misery, was somebody that belonged in the light, to be loved and adored, to be raised with care. In the future, he would undoubtedly become somebody incredible.
Just as how Kaden observed Arlo, the child watched him in return. It was a skill he needed to know, the ability to know when somebody was angry, when somebody was happy. When violence was inevitable and when it could be prevented.
Kaden's offer was genuine, and there would be no regret.
However, the child also knew of Kaden's fondness for his classes, a particular passion to learn. It was in the way Kaden paid attention to everything attentively. In the way the two big professors would sometimes tell Arlo during their lessons.
The boy pursed his lips, wanting to be selfish.
But there was still a lot of time, and because he liked Kaden so very much, he wanted to spend time with the other and allow that man to spend time for himself.
"Nope!" Arlo grinned, swinging his short legs. "It's okay, can you spend some time with me on the weekend?"
Kaden's large hand ruffled the boy's hair again. "Of course."
After waving farewell, the little boy was left in his seat to finish his food. Kaden had offered to walk him to one of the professors, or the spare room that had been organized for him, but Arlo rejected it.
Arlo followed Kaden outside, waving enthusiastically as the man disappeared into another building. At the same time, the large and bright smile faded.
A tall man with his hands shoved into his pockets strolled by, glancing over. "How cold-hearted of him, little guy."
Arlo glared, not a hint of his sweet child facade available. "Don't speak badly of him. You're not allowed!"
"Hm?" Lux, having seen the icy glint in the boy's eyes on the night his father was murdered, only smiled. "If you want to stay by his side, then become somebody worthy of it. He's already trying to protect so many people—"
Lux's teeth ground on the piece of candy he'd been chewing, the deep red of his eyes frightening.
"Will you remain another burden, or become a pillar to support him?"
Arlo shuddered, taking a small step back before puffing up his chest. "I—"
Lux burst out into roaring laughter, bellowing from his stomach. "Heh...! Both that puppy and those around him are re~ally serious! I do admire your determination, little guy. However, you're just a kid. Live a little. That's probably what he wants—"
A slow clap echoed underneath the covered walkway, shading passing students.
From behind a pillar, a slender and elegant man slowly revealed himself from where he leaned, listening. His golden hair regal, and blue eyes enchanting but cruel.
Lux's entire body tensed, and the man took a step in front of the child.
"Now, now, Reed, eavesdropping isn't a pleasant hobby. Even if your precious little brother is the topic."
Reed ignored him, fixated on the glaring child behind. "What an admirable wish, little boy." He said mockingly, expressionless. "To help that foolish dog of mine—I'd like to see where that silly goal of yours leads."
A pillar of strength to stabilize and to protect. Hadn't he wanted to be that, once?
Sharpness pierced his mind and Reed's eye twitched, gritting his teeth as a roll of nausea tided over him. The boy didn't notice, but Lux's eyes sharpened.
"Reed. I'm sure you have many duties to attend to—"
"I'll spare you some time."
Reed's voice remained icy as he reached to his belt and drew a gleaming sword, the blade sharp and bold with promise. A brush against its edge to draw blood, a swing to bring destruction.
"Reed!"
Lux didn't remain passive, striding forward to reach for the sword before it was thrown to the ground, skidding to land at the frozen child's feet.
The prince, where he stood, calmly spread out his arms. "Attack me, boy. This can only be the beginning."
The sword remained still across the ground as Arlo's fierce gazed burned it into his vision. He was a child, but he understood. That the man before him wasn't joking; that if he didn't pick up this sword, he may never in the future.
That this was an opportunity, and opportunities only came once.
His small hands wrapped around the hilt, struggling to drag it up. The skinny boy staggered and managed a clumsy swing that brushed the air in front of Reed's chest.
The crown prince didn't flinch. "With that, I doubt you can protect yourself, much less have the means to protect that dog."
And so the boy swung again, sweat beading on his smooth forehead with every excruciating movement, while Reed skillfully dodged and taunted further. Under the canopy, in the empty path, a boy and a man fought.
From the beginning, Arlo didn't have a chance to succeed.
He ground his teeth, shoving his tongue against his cheek with frustration stemming in his aching limbs. The weakness that fueled his blood, the knowledge that all he'd done to survive until now was barely enough to sustain himself, much less another.
The child's head throbbed from overexertion and he stumbled, the sword rushing towards Reed's chest—the man didn't move.
Lux cursed under his breath and drew his own blade, hanging from his belt as it clashed in the air. The impact was too heavy for Arlo and the boy's hands opened in pain as the sword skidded on the ground.
Lux heaved, scowling. "Reed, what's your intention?"
"......" A smile flitted across the regal face. "There's no need for a pawn to understand my goals. Seeing as you're so inclined to give strays a nickname,"
He spun around, back straight in the shadows. "I'll help you again another time, little knight. I pray you show me a better performance, or learn to bite your tongue."
The boy collapsed onto one bony knee as his entire body slumped, lifted his rounded chin with a bright, burning gaze. He felt the pain of the weapon, too heavy for him to hold, still vivid on his red palms.
It burned, a fire that jolted through his arms and into his running blood.
———XXX———
Reed hastened down the hallways, his speed preventing others approach in worry they'd interrupt his busy tasks. It was well known that the student presidents were often busy, the crown prince especially.
The exception to disturbing him would be Nicola, where Reed's plastered smile was not false, and he had no need to force himself to behave politely.
His fingers curled against his palm before relaxing—every little action that he displayed would be judged, and he needed to be aware of it before anybody else was.
It was already later into the day and many students had returned to their dorms, or left to wander elsewhere during their free time. Most classrooms were dark, emptied earlier.
A warm glow lit up a single classroom down the hall, contrasting the dimness around. Reed's steps faltered, slowing slightly.
He heard the mutterings of a familiar voice.
"...a cake... it shouldn't be too difficult. Aren't cakes a necessity for birthdays? I'm certain I read about it somewhere.... And I've done it... before. This is a little ugly..."
Reed came to a stop at the door, clutching his papers.
He remembered a scrawny child coated in flour as if having taken a bath in a tub of the white powder. The child had wandered into the kitchen despite his anxiety, shyly but persistently begging the cook to help him.
It had been after their relationship changed completely—but before the change became irreversible.
A birthday often spent alone, or with the graces of sweet, sickening praises, once spent with the loving presence of another.
The cook had been fired a week after, not by him.
And Kaden had never given another gift—or Reed had never accepted it again.
Another spike of agony prickled his mind, and he stumbled, past and present blurring. The muttering man in the kitchen faded in and out with the young boy covered in flour, though wearing a shy smile.
A blood engraved mark flashed in his head, a reminder, and his mind emptied entirely, every memory slipping through the cracks and draining to the ground.
When he lifted his head again, an empty glaze drew over his gaze, like a hollow doll that had been remade.
Kaden, hearing a noise outside, jerked back. When his mind registered the observer, his lips twisted. "To what do I owe the pleasure, master?"
However, there was no response to the snide remark.
He crept closer carefully, wiping the frosting on his hands on an apron snugly tied around his waist, frowning. "Reed?"
The Crown Prince abruptly flinched, clutching his head with pain drawing creases across his expression. He shook his head as if it would somehow toss the pain away, clearing his mind.
"There's a mission, dog." Reed doesn't look at Kaden. "There's a disobedient duke and I expect him to be removed. Within the next fortnight—I'm certain you're aware of what I mean. The information will be relayed to you later."
"What's that, all of a sudden—"
"I never recall needing to make my schedule around your life."
Kaden's hands slumped to his side, dangling loosely. He smiled bitterly. "Of course, Your Royal Highness. I wouldn't dare assume otherwise."
He half expected a beating, though his encounters with Reed during the Academy had been infrequent, and the beatings even less. Thinking about it, most of his injuries were inflicted by the castle's staff.
Though that didn't make anything better.
Reed didn't elaborate, turning and dragging his hand against the wall to turn off the lights. He left Kaden in the dark, slumped like an abandoned stray.
Kaden stood there silently in the dark.
A little birdie, more accurately Holly, had informed him that it was the dragon's birthday. It had been random and sudden and Kaden hadn't a clue about it. Of course Noah wouldn't tell him—he wouldn't be surprised in the dragon had forgotten it entirely.
But birthdays were a thing to be celebrated, right?
He vaguely remembered being taught so, but the only birthday he'd celebrated was Skye's and Reed's—though Reed had begun to ignore him long ago.
A cake had been Kaden's first thought.
He'd imagined the dragon's furrowed, scrutinizing eyes that would widen slightly in surprise. The low and quiet voice that would thank him, taking a bite of the cake no matter its appearance or taste.
If it was Noah, regardless of the taste, Kaden felt as if he would ask for seconds.
Kaden felt excitement, even as he measured the ingredients wrong, and when the cake was slightly undercooked and then slightly too firm. Even when it was ugly, and the crumbs clung to the wet frosting.
He grabbed the plate firmly, lifting it as he stalked over to the bin in a fluster.
What foolish things was he doing, living a silly fantasy like this? And really, would Noah even truly be grateful for a messy cake made by inexperienced hands? The dragon had been in a sour mood since their return from the Land of the Fae.
Kaden's ridiculous delusions were likely to remain just that—a delusion conjured by imagination.
He lifted it high in the air, gritting his teeth.
But he'd used up ingredients, wasted them with this mess. It would be a further waste to throw it. His time was unimportant; the process had been enjoyable.
He shouldn't waste it; couldn't waste it.
A hard swallow rolled down his neck, and he slumped against the counter.
Curling his legs to his chest, he shoved a bite into his mouth. And then another, and another. It was a little too sweet, clogging his throat as he swallowed. If he were to make another, he'd use half the amount of sugar. His empty stomach ached, protesting at the onslaught.
He supposed it could've been worse, that he could've used salt instead of sugar. A cake made a little too sweet was nothing but a minor issue—though wasn't it fortunate that Noah didn't receive it?
No tears sprung at his eyes, but the lonely sinner curled further into himself against the counter. He shoved another bite into his mouth, wrapping his arms around his paining stomach.
Placing more pressure on his hand, he swallowed another chunk of the sugary dessert.
The whining meow stretched out in the silence, and Kaden lifted his gaze slightly, pale green eyes softening. A shadow skirted across the room and within a second, a soft head rubbed affectionately against his leg. A tiny tongue darted to lick a touch of frosting on his apron, and the small black nose twitched.
"Meow~"
Kaden ran his hand over the feline's soft neck, smiling distantly. Then, as he swallowed another piece of the cake, and a sharp jab of pain warned him from his stomach, he curled up again.
And he whispered, with only a beast as his witness, "...it hurts."