How to Make a Sinner Sleep - Chapter 78: Chapter 78

In Professor Raymond's class, three notorious students sat next to each other near the back. One pink-haired man suddenly yawned, and a certain dragon yawned in following. Then, as if planned, the last of the three opened his mouth and yawned widely.
All three looked at each other in confusion.
Niklas leaned on the table, wriggling his eyebrows. "Now, now, do share. What have you two been up to that's made you so exhausted?"
Kaden tapped underneath his eyes, sneering. "Clear those bags underneath your eyes first, and then you can judge me."
"It's a trend these days. I'm surprised you don't know—you're probably the one who stared that trend. I quote, handsome men with dark under eyes." shrugged Niklas nonchalantly before sprouting a grin. "Fine, though. What's your excuse, Noah?"
"Insomnia."
"Really? For some reason, that was the last thing I expected." Niklas frowned, tapping his chin. "Why?"
"My roommate has been returning late at night."
Kaden decided it was a good time to stare out the window and observe the passing students, clearing his throat. Noah's gaze bore into him from where he sat, but he didn't add anything to his sentence.
The end of the year approached.
One month had passed since Kaden's agreement with the snake woman—Bolivia, he had learned was her name.
Three times a week, he ventured into Corpus or whatever odd location the Organizer invited him too, attending meeting after meeting. Often, there was no useful information, and he wasted more time than he discovered something new.
He stayed up late at night, and when he returned, Noah would push open the door and drag him to sleep.
"Don't wait for me." Kaden had told the dragon once, locked in a heavy arm that draped over his chest. The arm insistently begun to pull him to the bed.
Noah cracked one eye open lazily. "Will you tell me where you're going?"
"...no, not yet."
"Then if all I can do is wait, let me do just that."
There was no arguing with a stubborn dragon who simply pretended to be asleep if Kaden attempted to protest. Despite the warmth that Noah provided, it couldn't make for the few hours of sleep they managed to squeeze in several nights.
His frustration grew deeper and deeper, and his patience wore thin. Why couldn't he be in the right place at the right time? Why couldn't he find everything out at once?
Why was it that he reaped no results from the effort he put in?
Bolivia had done her part in investigating using her sources, finding secret discussions that were exclusive to her kind. But even she could barely find information, running into dead end after dead end.
Kaden's mind felt weary and he lowered his head to the table, dozing off to sleep. The class ended, and students eagerly spilled out of the room seeking lunch.
Niklas tidied his books, glancing at his friend with a sigh. "Well, that's rare. It's nearly impossible for him to fall asleep in class." His eyebrows knitted in debate, tucking his notes under his arm. "Noah, can you wait here? I have to be somewhere—but I'll help you bring him to your room if you can't."
The dragon didn't budge from his seat, his own books stacked in a neat pile. From the moment Kaden's head touched the desk, Noah had noticed.
He shook his head calmly. "Go. I'll wait until he wakes."
"I thought so. Get some sleep too, Noah, if you'll be here anyway. I hate to say it, but charming as you are, you also can't survive off mere hours or broken periods of rest."
A light breeze of wind flowed inside, and the chair scrapped lightly against the ground as the dragon readjusted himself. His dark eyes settled on the sleeping fool, tracing the somber lines of the man's face.
He stretched out, taking a pick of two of the books he brought and opened it.
"I can't sleep knowing that he's likely playing with death and I'm not capable of even knowing." Noah's voice, a steady calm, carried a hiny of wavering. "I couldn't sleep."
He spoke as if recalling something, a memory of the nights alone in an empty room.
Niklas had placed one foot in the aisle, prepared to leave. He stopped upon hearing the words, shoulders slumping back. "Are you stupid, Noah?"
"...I believe the one in question you should be referring to is—"
"Kaden, I know." A twitch of cheekiness tugged at Niklas' lips. "But punishing yourself for your own inability does not suddenly make you able. It leaves you miserable and weak—and who does that satisfy or help, other than perhaps your own masochistic tendencies?"
He crossed his arms pointedly. "Suffering or not suffering, it doesn't change what you're unable to do. So what purpose is there?"
"I see." said Noah quietly, casting a cold glance sideways. "And what of you, Niklas?"
"What about me?"
"My attention may be focused on Chauvet, but your actions of running around aren't subtle. You have your own secrets, Niklas. And I don't care to know them. Not unless they effect him."
Niklas had begun to walk away mid-sentence, the sound of his leather shoes loud against the classroom floors. "You're so protective, Noah." remarked the man, an echo throughout the empty hall. "Technically, they effect you too. These dastardly secrets of mine."
He stopped at the door, a hand resting on the handle.
"But believe me, Noah. The three of us are friends. There is nothing that changes that fact."
The man lowered his head, a weariness settled across his youthful face as he sighed. He offered a smile and a brief wave before exiting the room.
A pair of sharp, onyx eyes lingered on the closed door for a few moments. Noah hadn't brought it up randomly—he'd noticed it long ago. The convinience of timing Niklas always had, his odd reactions or deep knowledge of things that seemed beyond him.
But it couldn't be denied that Niklas cared for Kaden; not a hint of his actions told otherwise. Therefore, Noah had taken the opportunity to ask directly.
He hadn't expected a clear answer—neither Niklas nor Kaden seemed inclined to provide one—but it was enough to gain clarity of what side Niklas stood on. It eased the feeling of something amiss, an unsettlement that bothered the dragon.
Noah turned, fiddling with the upturned collar on the sleeping man's jacket, habitually tidying it with an impassive expression. He felt compelled to rearrange it, disliking things that were out of place once he'd noticed them.
In the end, there were two categories to divide people into. Those against Kaden, and those with. Then those in neither, but Noah hardly cared for those in that category.
He adjusted the sleeve until satisfied, careful not to brush agianst the thin skin of the other.
Only when that fool was captured by a deep slumber did he appear at peace, carrying an innocence likely abandoned in youth.
A good expression, decided Noah. Tranquility suited him well.
Another cool gust of wind slipped through the window, slightly colder than the earlier. A slight tremble briefly ghosted Kaden's arms, and Noah paused. He looked outside. The sun had begun to lower, and the waether grew chillier.
Without a word, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the lonely back.
The wind, today, felt refreshing despite his aversion to the cold. Leaning back into his chair with comfort, ready to wait for a long time, he flipped open his book to the right page.
Kaden's waking couldn't be predicted; but, Noah had no intention of leaving.
The door creaked open, and the he lifted his gaze calmly.
"N-Noah Bellamy—"
A finger was raised to a set of thin lips. "Shh."
The woman at the door who intended to grab her bag that she left behind flushed, nodded and darted inside to grab it before hurriedly retreating. The mission was carried out within seconds under the watchful scrutiny of a dragon.
As she crept outside, her friend glanced at her oddly. "Why do you look like you just ran a marathon? You're red as a beat."
"I witnessed something incredible." whispered the woman, feeling her hot cheeks. She fanned herself, excited. "You know Noah Bellamy and Kaden Chauvet..."
"Oh, speaking of. Haven't you heard the latest rumours?"
"Pardon? I haven't? Do you mean old gossip?"
"No, not at all! It's completely new!" The woman leaned closer to her friend, cupping her hand. "It's crazy..."
The other woman's face transformed in an instant.
———xxx———
Arlo's sword clattered to the ground in the private training grounds, scattering to the side as the young boy bent over, heaving. The ground beneath him spun in a muddied daze, sweat dripping down his face.
The crown prince stood opposing, raising his blade. "Again."
"I'm... cough... my body hurts—"
"Again." said Reed cruelly, offering no sympathy. "If you're tired, then that's it for this week. My time is limited. I cannot wait for you to take breaks, nor do I have any intention of doing so."
He waited, but Arlo coughed heavily, his arms shaking with a violent tremble. For a long time, he'd been a starved boy running in the slums, darting from corner to corner.
The effort he needed to put in was triple the amount a normal person would've, with his malnourished body and lacking strength. It was a vivid reminder of how far apart he and Kaden stood.
Reed seemed to read his thoughts. "Are you hesitating? Have you begun to think: this is the distance between you and that dog? You can't catch up."
"I don't want to catch up!" wheezed Arlo, staggering. "I want to protect him."
"To protect him, you'll have to surpass him. The things that... Kaden excels in are things you'll never catch up to. But in the places he lacks, the weakness he shows, you can guard those."
The prince took several steps forward, his overbearing shadow looming over the small boy. "When I found him, he was skinnier than you. Younger, too."
Arlo swung his head up, not expecting the prince to begin talking about his and Kaden's past. And the boy wondered if the near imperceptible softness was a delusion of his mind, or nostalgia to Reed. The prince seemed to be in a faraway place, deep in memory.
"I-I know! That... he was from the slums."
Reed attention drew back to reality, lips set in a thin line. "When I found him, he was a half-dead child that didn't even have a broken roof over his head. He wasn't born for the slums, but he made his life in it."
"You saved him...?"
Reed's pupils dilated and a sharp laugh escaped him. "Saved? Ha! I'd have to wonder if he'd have been better off struggling on the streets until picked up by a kinder owner."
"If you hate him," scowled the boy, anger in his round gaze. "Why help me? Why keep him?"
The prince walked over to grab the scattered sword, tossing it at the boy's feet without responding. It was his treasured blade; he'd taken one of the regular training blades for himself.
He remembered receiving it from his instructor, a glorious knight that had died on a mission. A sword, he'd been told, designed to serve as a shield.
The metal forged of precious ores, crafted by the most skilled craftsman; it was unbreakable. The wielder claimed the desinty of being great, of being the King and future protector of their land. Silly, however.
Reed had long abandoned that post.
With his hand wrapped around the weathered training blade, he raised it high into the air. The side caught a glimpse of light, a blinding gleam shining down as he swung down.
Arlo scrambled to grab the sword, thrusting it up as the metals collided and he felt the pressure rush to his feet, rooted in the ground. His hands burned, wracked in trembling pain.
The sword was once again thrown out of his weak hold.
Reed icy eyes gleamed, a coldness suffused within them. "Trust me, boy. Hate is the last thing I feel for that fool."
Then, a sharp spike of pain erupted in Reed's head and his blade clattered to the ground. The man, noble and elegant, was reduced to his knees as he clutched his throbbing head.
Underneath the rolled-up sleeves, shadows twisted on the man's arms, giving the illusion of tightening chains.
"Leave me!" snapped Reed when Arlo attempted to come closer.
The boy hesitated, gathering the swords in his arms tightly as he ran away, glancing back once at the other's miserable state. His brief concern disapated instantly; he couldn't feel sorry for a man that always tormented Kaden.
To the child, there was only one person that mattered. And whenever Reed appeared, the boy noticed the change in Kaden's expression, a confliction of horror and despise.
But it was conflicting; the child couldn't determine the essence of the feelings. It didn't seem to be a simple hatred, but if not that, what else fueled the complexity of their relationship?
From the shadows, a man swung his long legs over the ledge he'd been leaning against, sighing. He crouched down besides Reed, glancing at the small silhouette that eventually disappeared in the distance.
He grabbed Reed's arm, yanking it up as the sleeve fell further down, exposing more of the twisting marks that continued to expand.
"I must ask, my good friend," The last word was spoken sarcastically, in a lazy drawl. "Do you even remember what your purpose is anymore? Or are you beginning to forget in that clouded brain of yours?"
Reed glared viciously at the red-eyed man, but was unable to form a sentence through the agony that erupted in his mind. He refused to admit the truth to the other's words, that the more time passed, the more he was beginning to forget.
The reason to everything. His goal.
"You're blessed by the Watcher of Curses." mused Lux. "It's a wonder how you've been reduced to this state."
Reed yanked his collar down, struggling to speak. He gritted out, "Keep talking, and I'll... let you know... how a curse feels."
"I'll have you know, oh charming prince, that I secretly keep up with my studies."
"...what?"
"What I mean," Lux dropped the prince's arm indifferently, leaning against his hand. "Is I have a pretty good understanding of what we are, what we can do. I have to, when I'm susceptible to a Reversal. My pathetic blood and all."
"What are you trying... to say...?"
"You would've cursed me. You're the type that needs control, to have certainty. And I admit, I'm not reliable. But if you could've cursed me, you would've."
"Ridiculous." spat Reed.
Lux smiled, stretching his arms out. "Is it? I have reasons to believe there is a certain requirement for you to curse somebody. The blessings work differently. The more powerful one is, the more restrictions."
Reed glowered which entertained Lux, and the other continued to smile pleasantly. "Restrictions can come in two forms. One, the increased likelihood of a Reversal. Two, the inability to use your blessing unless meeting a requirement."
"Are you looking at me as an experiment?"
"And what a splendid experiment you are. The first one is practically confirmed, but I haven't met many with restrictions."
Lux stood up, patting his jacket as he offered out a hand. Reed glared at him, but reached out to grab it, only for the taunting hand to slide away.
Lux's smile widened as he glanced around the empty space.
"I'll help you when you need it. Right now, you look like you could use some rest. Nobody's going to come by, so suffer in peace."
After saying that, the man turned around and waved, disappearing into the distance. Reed cursed under his breath, curling into himself as his body spasmed in pain. He wasn't disappointed in being left alone.
He was well aware that the neighbouring prince despised what Reed did, and who he was. That was why he liked playing petty and mocking tricks when he could.
Lux was similar to Kaden, in that sense. Of course he was.
Reed's fingers dug into his palm as he exhaled, tiredly gazing at the black marks that wrapped around his arm, squirming as if alive.
His conscious flickered in and out. It was only in these moments of immense agony that he found some clarity. At other times, he was in a constant fog, clutching to a thread of intention while barely being awake.
At the end of the day, they were all insects trapped in a web of fate. In a useless struggle to escape and resist, how long would it be before they were consumed and bled dry by the predator of time?