How to Make a Sinner Sleep - Chapter 71: Chapter 71

It had been a week, and Noah hadn't once asked for an answer to his confession. Kaden could barely imagine what it took to announce such a declaration for somebody as unworthy as himself.
Certainly, Kaden didn't particularly think that there wasn't a person in the world that could love him—for his appearance, some might fawn for him, though few.
However, a person like Noah who had everything to give to the world and more, a dragon meant to dominate and become the salvation for many—and even if his path in life became more mundane, he would undoubtedly imprint his image in the minds of many.
Kaden sighed heavily into his hands, covering his face from the shadows he sat, peering at the trimmed hedges along the pathways around the school.
Then, his eyes sharpened as a beautiful, blonde-haired man passed him, flashing a brief, warning smile.
Reed was always surrounded by people, and therefore, he only smiled and waved before striding away. It was a warning, for Kaden to make haste and fulfill his mission. To rid of the target that Reed had claimed.
He once dreamed of resisting, of spitting in Reed's face and rejecting him.
The curse, after all, was temporarily weak and would only activate at Reed's command. If Reed didn't consider it an action that went against him, then he couldn't activate it.
Although it didn't change the result of excruciating pain that would result, should Kaden refuse. It would be a while later before Reed forced a stronger mark onto him, leaving little to no room for resistance.
Kaden sighed again, tilting his chin to the skies.
Noah hadn't pressed for an answer, but he demanded to be informed of any of Reed's future plans. Naturally, Kaden wouldn't tell him the details.
He couldn't tell that dragon that tonight he'd creep into a silent house and slit the throat of a man that could be a husband, a father. He couldn't tell him that and come back expecting comfort.
Under Reed's orders or not, it was Kaden who did the killing.
For a second, he felt a spike of jealousy, of envy towards other students. Why was it that they could enjoy lives as they pleased, no blood on their hands and only pleasure on their minds? Why was it that he had to endure while others didn't?
Then despise for himself replaced the jealousy. A wretched knowing that there were those more miserable, those suffering more. That the luxury of being alive and not starved was a blessing in itself.
A woman slid down the outside wall beside him, curling up their legs as they too looked up at the sky. She folded her long skirt underneath her, unbothered by the dirt.
"It's rather blue today, don't you think, Kaden?" smiled Nicola pleasantly.
Kaden blinked several times in surprise. "Nicola. I didn't hear you approach."
"Quiet steps are a useful skill to know. If I've been listening correctly, I believe your steps are even lighter than mine."
"You're not wrong."
"Mn, I'm usually not."
Kaden chuckled lightly at the confident remark that came from the polite, but ever so curious woman. Vaguely recalling her comments before his drunken state wiped the remainder of the night from his mind, he wondered,
"The slums, right? You survived the trudges of society."
Nicola nodded, still staring up at the skies as her silky brown hair was combed into a loose pony tail over her shoulders. Her pale cherry eyes gleamed in memory.
"Yes, I survived. It's an odd phrasing, isn't it? Surviving. And here I am now." She smiled. "Am I still simply surviving, or have I begun to live?"
Kaden stretched out one leg, turning his head towards her. "I'd think, student president, that you're excelling at living. To reach this place on your own from the bottom of society, that's an admirable feat."
"You're speaking as if you haven't done the same. But Kaden, see this life you've made for yourself. You survived—you crawled your way here."
"I have to wonder if it's any better. This life I'm living." He scoffed, shaking his head mockingly. "And there was nothing I did that wasn't given to me. I was picked up by royalty, Nicola. It's not the same."
"Are you comparing our struggles, Kaden? Do you mean to say that I struggled harder to reach where I was, that your life was given, not earned?"
"Isn't that right? This life is hardly mine."
The woman regarded him calmly through her serene gaze, a beautiful cherry that had survived terrible violences. "It's yours, much as mine is mine alone. Your life, Kaden, is something you've fought to keep, to have. Even now."
She smoothened her skirt as she stood, brushing out the wrinkles. "Now, we're friends, aren't we Kaden? I'll accept no other answer."
He raised his eyebrows, tearing his gaze away from the endless blue to the deep pink of her warm eyes. "You don't leave me with much of a choice."
"For you, sometimes I think it's better to not let you decide." laughed the woman good-naturally as she held out a slender hand. "I've spoken to Niklas, recently, regarding your organization. The Misfits of Obscurity, I believe?"
"The MOO's, you should call it. It irritates him."
"Did you mean to remind me to not call it that, so we don't irritate him?"
"And why would I do that?"
Nicola laughed, a bright spring of sound that faded in the space around them. "He's welcomed me aboard. Would that make us comrades now? If I've been taught correctly, friends can rely on each other, no?"
Kaden thought back to the beautiful woman who spun around that day, when he held the poster to the Fairy festival and wondered if he should go. Nicola Akasha, who from day one, never treated him with prejudice.
The stranger, the student president he'd heard of but never spoke to. A woman, who without her encouragement, Kaden might not have taken the step to attend the festival.
Her hand, when he looked closely, was covered in faded scars and marks of the past. Despite that, it waited in elegant patience for him to accept.
Your life is just as worth protecting.
Noah had said only a week prior, a constant reminder to request help if he needed. That he was worthy of their friendship, their kindness.
Kaden felt like his limbs were pulled in two directions.
"I'll correct myself. I want to aid you, Kaden, with whatever ability I have. Are you alright with that?" smiled Nicola gently, tucking a loose strand of flaxen hair behind her ear. "Again, I suppose I won't accept any other answer for this either."
"Then once again, Nicola," Kaden returned her smile softly, and reached out. "It seems you leave me with no choice."
———xxx———
A day amused by kindness and light could only dim when the sun retreated. The happiness that had stirred Kaden's heart dulled as he slipped into a black uniform, designed to hide him in the night.
He'd flipped through the information earlier of the noble. A male, in his early 40's, by the name of Bernard Russell. The man had trade relations with Reed, however, was suspected to be sharing Reed's secrets to an unknown source.
In the papers, there was further investigation of various underground crimes that Bernard Russell would need to pay the consequences for.
Although it wouldn't be necessary anymore. With death came a release of a person's previous acts. One could not punish the deceased—often, that was the reason the living chased after any blood relatives instead.
Selling and trading illegal substances, betraying Reed's secrets. There were notes of embezzlement of charities that the noble ran as well.
Bernard Russell was not a good man.
However, did his wrongdoings grant pardon to Kaden's future actions?
He closed his eyes, perched atop the sturdy branches in the trees outlooking the mansion the noble lived in.
Unsurprisingly, slipping into the mansion was simple. Kaden quietly strolled through the long, empty halls devoid of life, his steps soft against the stretching rug that laid over the ground.
There was a lack of life in the mansion. It seemed Bernard chose to keep fewer servants to attend to him.
He crept around the corner without hesitation, stopping before a double-set of doors that led to the man's office. He had memorized the map that Reed provided, or at least the main rooms that he'd have to enter.
Before he knew it, he stood before the tidied desk in an equally lackluster room.
He skimmed the room, noting nothing of important. Nothing that would pique Reed's interest. Then, the corner of a piece of paper caught his eye, wedged in a locked drawer, the last of the set that stood by the desk.
His eyes narrowed, adjusting to the darkness as he crouched down, wriggling the knob. Peeking over the desk, he scanned the surface and settled on a long, flexible pin.
Curving the end slightly, he bent down again and carefully moved it into the gap, feeling inside the lock with concentration. Were this a paid job, he would insist on having a bonus for his laborious tasks.
It took several more minutes before he faintly heard the pleasing sounds of success, and when he jiggled the knob again, the drawer smoothly slid open.
Slender fingers wrapped around the paper, and his breath caught in his throat.
There was only the sound of paper in the night air of the dark office. Then, another sound as the paper was turned, and another was flipped. Kaden read through the thick stack of papers wordlessly, barely breathing.
'I write to discuss our trades regarding monster corpses...'
'There had been little success with the research. Therefore, I must request for a further supply...'
'It has been decided that a minimum of blood will suffice...'
Letters after letters related to the exchange of the blood and corpses of other species, of a secret research that Kaden couldn't determine from the papers alone. Kaden's eyes rested at the beginning of the paper, where the other's name rested.
To Richards Halls, the letters wrote.
A dulled thumping came from the floor, and Kaden's entire body froze. His heartbeat quickened, thump, thump, thump, matching the beat of the sound underneath his feet.
It continued for a second longer before falling into a complete silence, as if whatever sound had been there never existed.
Kaden swallowed, tugging the black fabric over his mouth as he slipped the papers back into the drawer, making certain that it was locked again. Although the owner wouldn't live to read those letters again.
Down the hallway, Bernard's master bedroom waited.
Instead, Kaden turned and made for the twisting staircase that led underground, feeling the sides of the walls to balance himself.
It wasn't as if he felt no fear, but if he allowed fear to halt his curiosity, he wouldn't progress. Curiosity could kill, but Kaden wasn't a person who valued his life over answers.
He rummaged in his pockets, finding a small match box that he'd brought in case he needed a light. One had to be prepared for emergencies when slinking around the night.
The floorboards creaked underneath his steps, an echoing and stretching sound that filled the expanse of the space.
He paused, and continued further.
The basement wasn't as large or rich in rooms as the one in the castle. He didn't explore far before his foot stepped on something firm, yet soft.
Kaden swallowed, and slowly grabbed the match. He kept his foot planted firmly—to not let whatever it was escape, if it could—and struck the stick against the box. There was a spark, and a flame lit the top.
He lowered it before him, to the object he stood on.
There, a curved, charred shape rested, branching and bony fingers curved limply. It was wrinkled, the rotting skin clinging to bone. Kaden felt his blood run cold as he raised the match to illuminate the rest of the shape.
A wrinkled and flattened shape, curled into itself. Two black sockets gazed at him despairingly, the edges of the holes pulled and melted.
It didn't look humane; it was unmistakably human.
Kaden stepped back, feeling another object underneath his foot. He spun around, and another obscure shape laid, longer and completely deflated as its skin wrinkled like fabric bunched together.
The only telling that it was something living were the two drooping sockets that stared widely at him.
He knew in that instant, if he continued looking, he would find more of these ghastly, bent and crooked shapes of wrinkled skin scattered across the floor. Bent fingers, burnt skin, a melting body. Spikes and jagged shapes that could not belong to a human.
Turning at his heels, he hastened back up the stairs as if those bags of skin were dragging themselves behind him, chasing behind.
He collapsed at the top, slumping down as his chest heaved.
What had those been? What had he seen?
Richard Halls. Those bodies. Experiments. The key points raced through his head, cycling on repeat. Richard Halls. Those bodies. Experiments. Those bodies. Richard Halls.
He'd seen a sprawled out wing, torn and distorted, its every joint bent—but there had been a wing. One of those shapes was undoubtedly human. What were the others?
Faerie, dwarf, elf, dragon?
Living things that even he hadn't had the chance to meet. Perhaps some of his classmates had the blood of those species but he hadn't gotten to know them, so he didn't know. His lacking knowledge limited him.
But dragon. What if it was Noah on those filthy floors, his wing snapped, body crippled and twisted?
Was this his punishment for getting carried away with a life of normalcy?
That the twisted truths he sought to uncover were much more terrible than he imagined. And even this, he could barely explain, barely understand.
He clutched his chest through the fine fabrics of black cloth that covered him, punching another breath forcefully out of him. Those thumping noises—were those the last sounds of living from one of those bodies down there?
'I need to focus on what I can do.'
Faerie, dwarf, elf, dragon, human. Experiments. Bodies.
'I need to focus on what I need to do.'
He swallowed everything down—his feelings, his anxiety, his chaos—and staggered to his feet. Closing his pale green eyes, he allowed to feel the weight of the darkness around him.
Behind, the twisting staircase to the basement watched him.
When he opened his eyes again, they'd regained a steady coldness.
'You've seen horrible sights, Kaden Aluin Chauvet.' He knew, that even with the distractions of the present that made him forget who he once was, that this was engraved in him. 'Finish your task. Get out of the house. Then, think about what happened.'
He forced himself to take a step forward, keeping his head straight as he didn't look back once.
In minutes, he stood at the doorway to the master bedroom, shadow stretching out by the moonlight that illuminated his blanketed figure. Another second, and he hovered over a sleeping man expressionlessly, like Death that came to reap a sinner.
"What have you done, Bernard Hall?" muttered Kaden so quietly, that only the shadows could hear him.
Regardless, it wasn't within his tasks to force the secrets of this man out.
A gust of wind blew through the slightly ajar glass doors that led to the balcony, drapes swaying lightly. At the man's bed table, there was a vase of familiar flowers.
Wilted, ugly flowers. On the verge of crumbling into ashes.
He almost laughed at the coincidence.
Another minute passed, and now red coated the sharp edge of his blades. A gasp, and a life snuffed out.
Kaden moved to the balcony, and the door creaked open.
A little girl, a child he'd just made an orphan with her mother deceased long before, stepped inside softly. "...papa?"
Kaden waited quietly, watching. He watched as her brows furrowed and she dashed to her father's bedside, shaking him for a sign of life, only to be met with a still corpse.
Bernard Hall was not a good man, but unlike Arlo's father, he loved and cared for his daughter.
Arlo's father was not a good man, but unlike Bernard Hall, the crimes he committed did not involve the lives of dozens.
A wretched sob that was more of a wrangled gasp tore from the girl's lungs, and she wailed in despair. She cried out for her father who could no longer answer. Snot ran down her nose, and tears smeared across her face.
A shadow loomed over her.
The figure, cloaked in the evening dark, stood before her as she raised her red-rimmed gaze, sniffing,
From the stranger's robes, a gloved hand emerged, holding a single, wilted flower. She recognized the ugly, limpid plant as something her father collected. She never knew why he liked such hideous things. She never knew a lot, but she knew that her father loved her. And she loved him too.
"From ashes, you will rise."
The voice was soft and scrapped against her tender ears, hoarse and regretful.
"I will not apologize. It means nothing for the misfortune I've given you."
The girl was confused, blinking away the brimming tears as she tried to stare at the man's face, but her vision was blurred, and the evening was too dark.
"Y-you... you, sniff, killed my papa?"
The figure remained quiet and said softly, "Never forgive me. You have the right to despise and curse my existence for eternity. However, you still have many places to go. You will continue to grow, even alone."
After he spoke, he turned around and walked back to the open doors of the balcony. As he took a single step, a frail voice shouted,
"What if I want revenge for my papa?"
The figure paused, slowly turning around. Under the moonlight, the girl thought she could see the reaper's face more clearly. It was a young face, a handsome face. A smiling face.
She hastily wiped away her tears to get a better view, to imprint it into her memory. But the more she scrubbed, the more tears flowed endlessly.
"Then have your revenge." said the reaper gently. "Grow up, and come kill me. Grow up, and end this misfortune."
The girl opened her mouth to speak before a chilling breeze rushed past her, and the shadows of that man tumbled backwards, gone in the night.