Chapter 49: [46 – history; lingering dreams]

The room was quiet, filled with the old smell of wood and dust as faint streams of sunlight filtered through the window. The lights were old and only turned on in certain corners of the place. In that way, those corners seemed brighter, despite the dim light which glowed upon them.

It was surprising that the building was in this condition, which was much better than most of the others that had already fallen, now only broken pieces of wood hanging on a thread.

Perhaps it was because it was in an area rarely explored.

Raphael stepped inside casually, looking around the old library. There hadn't been many large battles recently, so he had gone exploring.

He didn't actually know how far he went, but after some twists and turns, he arrived here. Exploring was a habit of his, wandering into the broken world and discovering small, interesting things.

It was in those easy to forget things that made living so worth it at times.

Then, his gaze darkened as the night eyes landed on a particular person, sitting in a corner surrounded by a pile of tattered books.

Behind was a large dirty pillow, and similarly, three more were organized neatly to form a nest as the slender legs curled in, head bowed to peer at the paper. Deep inky locks brushed against their lashes, strands of cloudy white mixed in and between.

It was a rather amusing sight. Charming, with the youthful looks of mysterious allure, but comedic all the same.

Raphael considered leaving, not that he thought the other would care, but then felt a little bored. This bothersome fellow he'd only met just recently... it would be interesting to annoy him a little.

Just a little. Raphael was kind, after all. It could hardly be call bothering, no, it was simply befriending the other.

Wasn't it?

So, he asked, "What're you doing."

Ren raised his head, obsidian eyes twinkling in quiet curiosity. There was more in his eyes under the indifference haze, but Raphael can't decipher it for once. And in what Raphael couldn't understand, he found all the more intriguing.

Because this foolish hero loved humans more than any other.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Does that mean you don't want to answer?"

"Why are you here?" said Ren curtly, uninterested in any conversation.

The boy scowled, but it wasn't very intimidating considering the pillows that surrounded his body, and the stacks of book that made an extra layer as his eyes peered over the rows.

Raphael had the feeling of quiet maturity from the boy, but his behavior also seemed extremely childish, like an infant learning how to walk. Conflicting, it was. Fascinating, too.

He strolled over casually, ignoring the narrowing gaze of the other party as he reached out, picking a book off the top of a random pile.

'How to safely perform a pregnancy.'

"......"

The man's eye twitched, and he placed it down and grabbed another, and then another. From one dusty hardcover, to the next bright blue pages, there was quite the odd range of books.

'How to train your pet using behaviourism.'

'The strangest animals on the planet: editors addition!'

"Why are you reading this?" said Raphael, confusion evident across handsome features.

Ren frowned. "Why do you keep talking?"

"If you answer me, I might leave you alone, you know?"

"Don't want to."

Raphael smiled and said, "You don't want me to leave?"

"......" Ren looked annoyed as he glared. His entire being radiated complaint, but he replied anyway. "Your arrogance is incredible."

"You're pretty amazing too."

It wasn't a compliment, though, words laced with heavy sarcasm. However, the youth either didn't care or didn't notice. Perhaps a combination of both.

Raphael wondered, "Where'd you even find pillows?"

"....."

"I'll burn your books if you keep ignoring me."

To prove he wasn't lying, he pulled out a lighter and held it dangerously towards a book. The flame hungrily flickered toward the edge, but Raphael held it just far enough so it wouldn't burn.

Ren had an inkling that this person would really do as they said, even if it was for a ridiculous reason. A person even more troubling than the monsters that roamed outside.

'Troublesome.'

Ren scowled. "I took them. From an empty house."

"And what're you doing?"

Back to the original question. Ren looked down at the book, then up at the irritating bastard who kept interrupting him. To ignore, or to not ignore. It wouldn't really be something to consider, if not for the threat that hung at the edge of that bothersome smile.

This man was dangerous, Ren understood. And running away from such was a feat more trouble than it was worth.

"I'm reading." said Ren, matter-of-factly.

"Why?"

Ren sighed and said, "Because I want to. There's no knowledge that is unnecessary."

In his undying world, reading became a solace. The people around him would fall, but the words would not disappear. The stories or random knowledge made him feel normal, strange as it was.

However, Raphael had yet to understand the depths of the other's loneliness.

He walked away, and Ren stared silently after him before lowering his head to keep reading. The sound of flipping pages trailed across the tranquil air. 

Then, somebody sat next to him.

Separated by a stack of books, Raphael leaned against the wall lazily, one leg up as he propped a book against it. His heat radiated through the cold air, an obvious sign of life. It was painfully vivid against Ren's chilly skin, naturally devoid of warmth. 

So foreign, but Ren said nothing.

Raphael made himself comfortable in the small space besides the other. No matter how he looked at it, he felt that it was too lonely in this extensive library to be alone. During these times, and even before, that consuming loneliness could kill. 

Swallowing a person in their own empty despair.

Even if Ren annoyed him, Raphael had an impulse to sit down. The reason why, he did not know. A strange compulsion, a desire, an instinct.

A momentary desire. 

Maybe he was awfully tired, and it was only this youth who he knew wouldn't kill him.

Since the boy wanted to be killed instead.

In the end, what did it matter? Raphael was the sort to do as he pleased, especially during such a lawless time. 

"Well then," said Raphael with a relaxed look, glancing cooly at the other through the gap between the stack.

"I'll join you."

---xxx---

"Wake up, Soren."

Soren blearily opened his eyes, tiredly glancing around in a daze. The smell of dusty books filled his nose, back aching against an uneven wall — the bookshelves that filled every corner of the room.

The darkness hid the swirling mix of chaos under those chilling eyes. 

A dream, in the most vivid fashion. Even after waking up, Soren felt remanents lingering in the air, as if both dream and reality had been mixed.

There also existed a dull, throbbing pain in his head, like a dam being pried open, barely holding back the rushing waves which threatened to violently consume him. 

"You had a nightmare?" asked a voice in a wondering tone, though his expression seemed uncaring.

Soren glanced at Erlen indifferently. "No."

"Ha..! You were sweating and shuffling uncomfortably in your sleep, you do realize?"

"I have nightmares every night," said Soren simply. "But not tonight."

"...every night?"

"None of your business."

He rolled his head in the other direction, not in the mood for a conversation. Slowly but surely, the Death God had been right. In fact, even before the conversation, Soren had almost been certain of the fact.

The single truth that Raphael and he were connected in ways deeper than he could fathom.

Bound by strings of fate and chance that had once unwittingly existed, now faint in the tumbling passage of time. And now, they were starting to become clearer again.

He felt delusional.

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Perhaps it was a figment of his imagination. The chaos of the recent times had melted his curiosity about Raphael's existence to memories that didn't existed, merging them together to create some nonsensical mess.

There was a part of him who refused the memory, despite knowing it was anything but a leisure dream. Confirmation was impossible, but somewhere, far beneath his soul, he knew. 

But he wanted to deny it. Reject it.

Though the God of Death's words had practically been a confirmation itself.

He'd wait, figured the prince silently in the muddle of thoughts. Wait until he saw Raphael again and wait to see what he felt. If this familiarity in his dreams was actually a reality, he wondered what he'd do?

In fact, he wondered. The reason he forgot about Raphael to begin with — was it due to the unfortunate circumstances of life... or by his own will?

An irritated sigh escaped his lips, and he turned to Erlen who was staring at him with a conflicted expression. "What's the plan?"

"Oh, saving you was the first step. I was told to... to... follow whatever you said after that." said Erlen somewhat reluctantly.

He'd navigated through the castle and broken through the guards to break Soren out of his cell, pushing aside his feelings while he did. After, they'd run to this library, which Brioc claimed to have been rarely used — proven by the heavy scent of dust that clogged up their nose.

Now, it was a waiting game.

"You didn't want to save me." said Soren bluntly, rather observant for his lacking understanding of others. But the reluctance on Erlen's face was too obvious, too clear, that it was hard to think otherwise.

"I didn't." admitted Erlen with a scowl, before he let out a deep sigh. "Dammit. Quite honestly, Soren, I don't know what to make of you at this point. I'd like to lash out as I always do, but everything is so damn confusing."

"Why?"

"You've changed. Too much, so much. And much as I suspect your change, it is so constant that I must be delusional. Tsk, I don't know."

Erlen slumped back against the bookshelf across from Soren, a good distant away. His amber eyes could barely be made out in the darkness, gleaming from the flittering sunlight that had begun to rise.

"I saved you because even if I'm illogical and rash, your plan had a chance of success. I hate you, but I hate the Haze King more."

Soren stared at him with a fleeting yawn. "Why?"

"...tsk." Erlen ruffled his hair in frustration, debating whether or not to speak before giving in. "The fighting ring. The Haze King funds it, and they encourage those who need money or are in dire situations to participate, with no regards for their safety. They sought entertainment, playing those commoners like mouses."

There was a faraway look in his eyes, bitter tone suddenly stilling. "I had a friend. A good friend. Hell of a good person, but also desperate to help his family. But with his pride, no money or help from me would be accepted."

It'd been somebody Erlen trusted with his life, and more. A pitiful person, in other's eyes, but one who lit the world in his bright positivity, hope left in his wake. 

A person Erlen wanted to reform this society with.

"And so he became prey for nobility, a good, needy target to toss into that damn fighting ring."

Erlen fell silent, but Soren could predict the outcome. 

In the fighting ring, there were plenty with strength and ability, some nobles who snuck in, some seasoned fighters who were eager for blood. But more often than not, there were those who desperately sought the golden prize of wealth, whatever it took.

A regular common, with no particular skills other than their willpower.

He was a mouse tossed into a pit of lions. And so Erlen had lost his closest friend to the selfish whims of the nobles above.

There was something Soren was understanding more and more than this world progressed. He wasn't simply in a novel, but a new life of real people. He'd realized it before, and he understood it even more now.

Those horrible brothers of the original — they had a story of their own to tell.

That was a fact easily overlooked.

Finally, after a long, depressing silent, Erlen sighed and stood up, stretching his body. "Tsk, staying in the same place for too long is awfully boring."

When he glanced down, he found Soren silently staring at him.

Erlen scowled, confusion flittering in his amber eyes. "What is it?"

"You're admirable." said Soren honestly, blinking calmly as if it were a casual statement. That was because it was, it really was.

The people who would risk their lives for the sake of somebody already gone; that was admirable. Soren both envied and desired it, that desperate urge built from unyielding love.

"W-what?"

"You're admirable."

"I didn't ask you to repeat it!" hissed Erlen in his fluster, plopping to the floor with a soft thud as he squinted cautiously at Soren, finally leaning his head back against the shelf and heaving a sigh. "Ahh, damn. I really don't get you."

"I don't need you to."

"Wha... huh?" Erlen frowned. "You don't want me to try and understand you?"

Soren was calm, for once. Those simmering feelings of the original were calm, too, melding in with indifference. "I don't want that anymore."

"....." The thick eyebrows furrowed into a frustrated look, both confused and pondering. "...tsk, I wasn't going to, anyway."

"Okay."

".....Soren, you--"

Creaaak--

The large oaken doors swung open, and a silhouette stood in front of the bright, streaming lights that filled the room. At the sight of the two strangers in the library, their mouth dropped open into an almost scream.

Erlen snapped up, ready to act.

Soren had already moved.

Through golden eyes, Erlen watched as Soren slipped behind the maid in a silent shadow, lurking behind her without a word in only a moment, walking casually in his step. The world was quiet.

Slender fingers covered her mouth, and his narrow eyes flickered to her as he stepped around her, icy eyes swallowing her whole. Soren raised a single finger to his lips.

A flickering flame drowned the blue gaze in its dark crimson intrigue, marked by a delicate snowy butterfly in the middle. Absolutely enchanting, those charming patterns which flickered in those eyes.

The maid's eyes fluttered in surprise, slowly coated in a drunken lure.

"Shh." said Soren slowly, magnetic and alluring as it smothered all other sounds. "Don't scream."

The words were cool and indifferent, flowing like a steady stream of water but it sounded lyrical, a mysterious lull playing in the faded background. Convincing.

The maid felt as if she were compelled to obey.

Her mind grew hazy, drunk in the flow of words. Sluggishly, her head bobbed in acceptance, in obedience.

Those bloody ruby eyes tattooed in her sight.

"Help us, obey me." ordered Soren in a serene, careless tone that wrapped around her in a cocoon. "Follow my command."

She nodded numbly again, and a whisper of a smile appeared on Soren's face, satisfied at the outcome.

'You're fairly decent at using my power now.' remarked a voice at the back of his head.

It seemed as if voices resounding in his mind were now a common occurrence, and Soren wasn't sure if he disliked or despised it. Therefore, he ignored the mellow tone in his mind, absentmindedly glancing back.

Erlen stared, wide-eyed and confused, filled with startled wonder. It had happened quickly. All too quickly.

He walked up to Soren after returning to his senses, honey eyes observing him carefully. Scrutinizing him. 

"Since when could you do that?"

Soren glanced at him, stepping back from the maid. "Always."

"...I highly doubt that."

"And how would you know?"

Erlen clamped his mouth promptly, frowning. The years of neglect were something he was well aware of, and something Soren occasionally mentioned in an offhanded remark. 

A truth everybody knew, but didn't address. Because the moment everything was faced properly, whatever relationship they had would fall into shattering pieces that could never be repaired again. 

Soren cared little for the muddle of thoughts in Erlen's mind, staring indifferently. "Let's go."

"Huh? Go and do what?"

At certain times, Soren missed Raphael and Damien, who would somehow hear Soren's entire flow of thoughts from the few words that left his mouth.

"Go and cause havoc, idiot." said Soren as if he were stating a blatant fact, walking through the door without turning back.

Erlen stared after him, dumb folded as fiery strands of hair sat in a disarray on top, mimicking his confusion. Wrecking havoc was clearly not easy, nor the obvious thing to do when trapped in enemy ground.

How was he supposed to know?

More like, was this strange brother of him who only grew more confusing recently, really the one who'd lead the plan to success?

A little bit conflicting. Unbelievably, too. 

Yet as Soren's steady figure grew more faint into the disappearing light, Erlen's thoughts spun and danced. This little brother of his, so unreliable and strange. 

He had a strange compulsion to follow him.

And so he did.