How to Make a Sinner Sleep - Chapter 79: Chapter 79

The Organizer slipped the mask of another identity over his face, sliding through the crowd. He was a man who could blend into the colour of the background, or stand out even within the shadows.
He shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling a little cold as he turned past a corner casually, into the dark alleys.
A shadow followed him closely behind. Then they turned and froze in surprise, not seeing a person in sight. Squinting, they coldly turned around, greeted by the smiling face of the other party.
The Organizer waved with a lazy grin. "Why, I didn't see you there."
The other's slanted eyes narrowed, the dark pits of their gaze fathomless. In the light, their eyes would gleam in rich amethyst mixed with tendrils of pink, two jewels carved in their face. There were some who would desire those eyes to the point of wanting to rob them.
"I can hear your vulgar thoughts."
"Come on, little dragon. I'm merely thinking about profits."
The dragon snarled. "Don't call me that."
"Ah, yes, I heard." smiled the Organizer, twirling around as he hopped onto a stack of wooden crates, taking a seat. "A certain fox called you by that nickname? Isn't he charming?"
"Our agreement—"
"I know, I know. I was the one who approached you first, back then."
The Organizer lowered his gaze from the stack of crates, seated high above the dragon who scowled continuously, a sunken air surrounding them. He fiddled briefly with a chain around his neck, fingers tracing the curves of the charm.
He looked up at the skies, but there was no moon to stare at and pretend to act in a dramatic play. He sighed sorrowfully.
"You're pretending to be a main character again." deadpanned the gloomy dragon.
The Organizer shrugged. "I like to believe that I am a main character, little dragon. It's all about the mindset these days. You could learn some positivity."
The dragon's scowl deepened, and suddenly, the crates beneath the Organizer decided they couldn't bear his weight, creaking quietly. The next second, the wood snapped, collapsing as the man soared into the air, landing heavily on the ground.
"Hey! Don't be immature."
"It was merely your bad luck."
"Right. Bad luck caused by who now, I wonder?" The Organizer brushed himself off, wiping the white suit that he'd chosen to worn that was completely unsuited for blending in. And yet somehow, he fit in seamlessly with the crowd.
His hair today was a rose pink, curled and styled infuriatingly like an arrogant fool who relied on his parents for money.
His smile dropped. "Now, let's get to why you're looking for me."
The dragon didn't hesitate to speak, wanting to leave as soon as possible. He flicked a crumpled ball of paper at the other. "There's a meeting scheduled that I heard about. They're investigating, right? Have them appear there."
The Organizer opened the paper, smoothening the crinkles as his lips set into a deep frown. Then, he reached out and patted the young dragon on the head.
His hand was almost ripped off by a pair of deadly claws.
"Ah, you're so not cute. I'm helping you, remember? You trust me because you know I haven't lied to you. I'm sure you don't want your important friend to die of blood loss."
The dragon sneered. "I would simply find another to help me."
"Would you? When you're sneaking around like a rat, who can you rely on?"
The dragon swung around and kicked the crates—much like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum, noted the Organizer with a hint of amusement. The wind rustled around them as two powerful wings creaked and cracked from the creature's back, and he rose from the ground.
The Organizer called out, "Much as you pretend to be mysterious and cool, you're still a brat inside!"
"I'll kill you!" hissed the dragon in response.
Laughter was the response as the angered dragon flew away in a hurry. The Organizer was left alone, surrounded by broken crates and dust-filled air that had been kicked around by the dragon's movements.
He had installed a sound barrier of sorts, the convenience of magical tools. He read the paper again, plopping to the ground with a heavy sigh.
"Things would be faster if we could all work together, but they all insist on going solo." The man complained to himself. "Where's the spirit of comradeship?"
He folded the paper once again, smoothening the creases even further before wandering deeper into the alleys, stopping by a certain Tavern. He flipped his jacket inside-out, revealing a black suit as he watched a man enter the door, knocking in a specific pattern.
He cleared his throat and strode forth, mimicking the knocks. It was never difficult to enter, for he lacked neither the air of nobility or the pass code necessary.
Once inside, the man's eyes skimmed the crowded Tavern, narrowing onto a skinny youth that was serving drinks, wearing a long-sleeved shirt that made his frame appear small, and loose pants that were casual but hugged his waist. Jewels decorated his ear and neck.
The Organizer walked behind him, grabbing a drink from the bar along the way.
"Hey, pretty boy. Care for a drink?"
Ah, he sounded perverse. However, directly calling out was the best way to grab the youth's attention in the bar of many wealthy customers.
The youth turned with a slight frown, before he blinked in surprise. "Ah, me?"
"Well, you've already turned around, so who else could I call?" An easy smile spread over the man's lips, and the youth flushed. "Come drink with me? I feel like complaining, and I'd like a listening ear. Or are you taken for the night?"
He placed three gold coins on the table. "I'm feeling like spending money too. Who's to say if these three might double, or triple?"
He saw the gleam in the youth's eyes—a greedy gleam that he didn't look down upon. In this society, a desire for wealth was nothing uncommon or shameful. To have money was to live, and to know that was to live a day longer.
The youth licked his dry lips a little awkwardly, walking closer. "You only need a listening ear? I... I stopped... I don't feel like going to bed with anybody tonight."
"Just a listening ear." reassured the man. "If you feel pressured at all later, or uncomfortable, take the gold and leave."
"R-really?"
"I'm not going to bite."
There was something about that man that was reassuring, as if his promises weren't merely sweet words spoken with manipulative intentions. The youth sat beside him, awkward in conversation.
Drink after drink, the charming man threw back glass after glass, his words beginning to slur. He shook his head with some complaint. "There's a meeting I have to be there for tomorrow, how bothersome. Nobles are... always so... troublesome."
The youth's ears seemed to perk as he scooted closer. "Nobles?"
"Mn... have you heard of a man named Richard Halls?"
"...! I-I haven't."
The Organizer propped up his face in the palm of his hand, smiling lazily. "You haven't? He's rather famous recently, a commoner who rose from rags to riches."
"What kind of meeting will it be?"
There was a low chuckle, and the youth flinched back, startled at the other's soberness. Then, the man slumped forward again with a sleepy glaze to his eyes. "I have a note somewhere about it... ah, where is it."
His fingers fumbled over a crumpled paper in his pocket and it slipped out of his hands as he furrowed his eyebrows. Ah... did I drop it? Help me pick it up again, won't you?"
The youth nodded eagerly and scrambled to the ground, hurriedly unfolding the paper and skimming through the information. His memory was something rather remarkable, and he printed the short time and location to his memory before snatching up the paper.
When he looked up he was surprised to see a clear pair of blue eyes, gazing straight at him. The youth gulped, feeling chills crawl up his skin.
He quickly handed over the slip of paper, and the easy smile returned to the man's face.
"Thanks. For your services, I'll pay you handsomely. However, it's time for me to retire for the night." He placed a bag of gold coins on the table, patting it lightly.
"Ah! Let me help you outside, sir!"
"I'll be alright." said the man smoothly, walking further away. It wasn't long before he faded into the cluster of people, into the outside world.
He yawned, stretching his arms to the skies. As he walked, he moved in a straight line, complete clarity in his deep blue gaze that stared at the path ahead of him. He glanced back once at the Tavern before disappearing into the night.
———xxx———
"A list." Noah held out a slip of densely covered paper to Kaden, who accepted it with some confusion. "My favourite books. You said you wanted to read more."
"Oh, I did. I didn't think you'd remember."
There were at least a dozen books scribbled out, each with three points and a brief note of what it was about, and the genre. It was organized and yet messy at the same time, Kaden couldn't explain the feeling the paper gave.
It was like the notes of an author, decided the man eventually.
"I notice you like doing things in groups of three." commented Kaden casually.
Noah kept a stack of three books at his bedside table, routinely switching one out for another, but there was always three. He made notes in points of three as well. Presently, as they were in the town to search for little treasures, Noah held three items in his hands.
The dragon glanced over. "I do." He hadn't noticed it before.
Often, the person themselves were oblivious to their little habits.
It was an excursion planned on random, and Kaden had suggested it. He wanted to know what sort of treasures Noah liked to collect, in comparison to his grandfather who sought jewels, gold and teapots.
Kaden had a sudden urge to learn more about the dragon, to a point no other would be able to claim they knew Noah better.
And he had time to spare, though sleep would've been a better necessity. Noah had asked him too, if he'd prefer to take a nap if his slivers of free time, but Kaden disagreed. Sleeping always felt like he was wasting time that could be spent.
The dragon had shaken his head with exasperation and flicked his forehead at that.
Now, in the crumbling store that they'd found along the streets, Kaden picked up a strange device with a frown. It was had smooth edges, spiraling into a small top while one side was flattened. There were small patterns painted onto it.
He held it up, squinting one eye to examine the device. "What is this? A magical device?"
The dragon stared at him—the human holding a human toy—and gently took it from his hands, placing it on the surface of the table. With a swift flick of his wrist, the wooden toy spun around and around on the center point.
"It's a spinning top."
Kaden looked a little fascinated. "A child's toy, isn't it?"
"It's popular with commoners. It's an easy toy to craft from wood."
Kaden nodded, giving it another spin on the table as he watched it dance around. "I must ask, Bellamy, what sort of toys did you play with? I can't imagine you as a child."
"Then do you imagine me looking like this when I was seven?"
The image of a shrunken Noah Bellamy with the same sour face, only a foot shorter, appeared in Kaden's mind and he snickered. "Honesty, yes. I do imagine that."
"...How so?" But the hint of a smile appeared on the dragon's lips nevertheless. "I imagine you were a skinny, pink-haired brat."
"The brattiest." smiled Kaden as he ducked down to fiddle with some toys on another shelf. "I was infamous. Watch out for that pink-haired kid! That's what they'd say, how they would warn each other. I was a master at my craft."
Noah's gaze was full of indulgence as he crouched down and demonstrated to Kaden how to use another toy. "I was quiet when I was younger. I liked searching for human trinkets that would wash up nearby."
"What do dragons typically do as children?"
"We look for treasures."
"Trinkets and pretty things?"
"Gold."
Kaden's green eyes gleamed with amusement. "So our little Bellamy was greedy from birth, is that right? Always seeking gold and jewels."
Noah raised his eyebrows. "Seeking treasures, yes."
"Where'd you hide them? In the same place you do now?"
"Hide?" repeated the dragon contemplatively, watching Kaden fiddle with the spinning top again, and then move to examine the build of a carved doll.
Dragons were the types to seek treasures and store them in a place to be protected, belonging over to them. To Noah, even when he was younger, the safest place wasn't to hide them away, but to place them right by his side.
Of course, he had a secret stash stored away somewhere only he could find.
But the more precious the treasure, the closer he kept it.
"I found a beautiful stone when I was younger." said Noah, recalling his youth. "It would reflect the skies, blue and clear with swirls of white on some days, stormy on others. Back then, I thought it was the most beautiful thing I'd seen."
"Yeah? And what did you do with it?"
"I swallowed it."
Kaden dropped the toy he was holding before he reacted and quickly caught it before he clattered against the ground. He propped it back up on the shelf and spun around.
"You ate it?" he repeated, incredulous.
Noah cocked his head. "I didn't chew it."
"Swallowing counts as eating. I think the consumption of anything can count as eating. Bellamy, you swallowed a rock?" Kaden stared, but Noah showed no signs of joking. Then, he covered his face and let out a breath of laughter.
How great it was to think that Noah Bellamy, proud and solemn as he was now, once was a silly child that ate the treasures he found. In a twisted sense, it worked. Nobody would think to tear open his stomach and steal the treasures burying at the pit of his gut.
Kaden suddenly paused, amazed. "Actually, Bellamy. You were a pretty smart little dragon, when I think about it."
"I was very smart." corrected Noah, watching carefully as Kaden scoffed with a smile, shaking his head. "The stone was never found by anybody else."
"Don't tell me you digested it too?"
"A dragon's stomach acid is extremely potent."
"I'm really amazed right now, can you tell?"
Noah tilted his head again, resting his head against the shelf as his hair brushed over his sharp gaze. Kaden suddenly felt keenly aware of the dragon's gaze slowly dragging down his body, observing every line of his shape.
When Noah talked, a glimpse of his sharp teeth revealed itself, Kaden noticed. His eyebrows relaxed, entire posture lazy as he said, "I can."
The dragon stretched out a hand closer to the man crouched before him, briefly running over the soft eyelids, tucking a strand of hair behind rounded ears. "I am always keenly aware of your expressions, Chauvet."
Kaden swallowed, feeling his neck roll and the steady fingers followed the movement, trailing down his neck briefly—a ghost of warmth—before they pulled away.
Kaden wondered quietly, "I'm a little worried, Bellamy. That you know me too well, and the more you know, the less interesting I'll be."
Noah was filled to the brim with stories and wonders, built from curiosities. He was a person one could never bore of, even if decades passed, even while sitting in silence. But Kaden was different, and the more exposed he became, the more his insecurities developed.
He'd decided to give Noah an answer by the end of the year that soon approached.
Before, he would've never considered it.
But now a new problem presented himself. Even if Kaden gave all of himself to the man before him, how could he guarantee the other wouldn't grow bored of him?
Noah read the troubles dancing across the worried green eyes, and his expression softened. He carefully reached out and tapped Kaden's hand, and receiving no negative response, he fiddled with the warm hand of the other.
His fingers grazed the edge of Kaden's glove, and while he felt the person tense, Kaden nodded slowly.
Noah slowly pushed off the black leather, exposing dozens of small and big scars that covered Kaden's entire hand. Then he saw the large star-shaped scar, marked in permanence.
To Kaden, the scar represented two things.
The first, was a discoloured mark that he'd had since he was younger. The scar had in fact been there from his time living in the slums.
The second, was Reed's mark of obedience which branded over that very mark, rewriting a new story over it.
Noah asked for neither reasons, and instead curled Kaden's fingers and pressed the man's hand to his forehead quietly. The store keeper had left a while earlier, and in the worn room of trinkets and old antiques, Kaden felt as if time slowed around him.
"You are a story I could never bore of,"
Every mark he'd yet to learn, every blemish given by time or at birth, every curve and shape that made up Kaden's existence that he'd yet to see. Every story, minor or major, every sin and every kindness that he committed.
"A tale that teaches something new every time I read."
"Therefore," Noah smiled gently, his dark gaze a comfort Kaden never knew he needed until he had it. "Let me read you a hundred times, Kaden Chauvet, and when you think I've learned everything there is to know about you,"
"Let me read you a hundred times more."