Salvation of the Scum Fifth Prince

There was no light when Soren opened his eyes, only the dim flickering of the lamp in the corner. He blinked slowly at the ceiling, then tilted his head to the right at the soft sound of breathing in the corner of his room.

It seemed to stretch across the air, until it was the only sound he heard.

Resting lazily on a chair with crossed arms and a drooping head of dark hair was the very protagonist Soren sought to avoid.

Raphael's chest rose slowly, dense lashes fluttering as he breathed, wisps of hair tracing across his defined features. When he was sleeping, he seemed to be a regular person, lacking the domineering arrogance or maturity of many lifetimes.

'Strange.'

The entire scene almost seemed peaceful, strangely enough. Almost natural. Soren nearly thought to close his eyes again and sleep — he was in a bit of a lazy mood.

When he shifted, a glimmer of dull pain throbbed throughout his body. It wasn't much, but Soren still felt it, lowering his eyes at the bandages around his body.

Someone wrapped them tightly around his wounds, obviously done by skilled hands. It couldn't have been Damien, who was skilled in tending to himself, while lacking skills to care for others, so the culprit was clear.

Soren's gaze lingered on the sleeping man across from him and then shifted to move about of the bed. There was no movement from Raphael, who seemed to surprisingly be a heavy sleeper.

Or perhaps, tired from a long night. Had he stayed awake to tend to Soren?

...it was a thought the prince didn't want to consider.

However, just this once, Soren decided not to kick him out of the room. He knew how to be grateful, at least. For whatever happened.

He stood up, looking around to before opening the door. Damien stood outside, as if having expected the Prince's awakening. It was a little creepy, honestly, but Soren chose not to comment.

It wasn't important right now, anyway.

"The details of the competition?"

Damien promptly replied, "After you left, they delivered your prize to me. They would usually have an announcement, but you left early, so I refused them. Is that alright, master?"

"Great, thanks."

It was more than alright.

Soren didn't know the aftermath of the competition, since Raphael had played around as he pleased in the book, skipping the key details, but this was enough.

He'd been worried that there would be a big event after the competition, one he may not have been able to avoid even if the protagonist could.

Damien peeked over Soren's shoulder, his emerald gaze resting on the sleeping man across the room. "This is...?"

"He's sleeping. I'm sure you already know."

There was no way Damien didn't know, having been the one to direct Raphael to the room. But after watching their bickering, he hadn't predicted that Raphael would stay, or that Soren would allow that man, who he seemed to avoid, to stay.

However, the Prince seemed to show no signs of forcing the man awake, so Damien said nothing. He only decided it would be worthwhile observing them for a while longer.

It was impossible to determine the depths of complexity within every human from only a few months.

"What will you do now?" asked Damien after a moment of silence.

Soren opened the door to let Damien in and sat on the bed comfortably. There was no hesitation when he said, "Go on my vacation."

"You won't be heading back first?"

"No." Soren paused, thinking. "But I will ask Raphael to send the kids back. I promised."

"You won't send them back yourself?"

"No."

Damien planned to ask more, but seeing the definite expression on his master's face, he chose not to ask. After all, Soren had only said he'd help the kids, but did not promise his own involvement.

There was a limit to everything, even if he was more empathetic — to whatever extent — towards kids compared to adults.

"Celine will help them."

"Will she be willing?"

"Raphael will deal with that." Soren lifted his eyes slightly, brushing over the sleeping figure. "He won't abandon those children."

'You know him quite well.' Damien had thought of commenting, curious.

Soren's apathy was clear as day, and for his low EQ master to understand anybody in a way that wasn't pure facts, it was intriguing. As expected, the two were an interesting combination, as similar as they were different.

Birds of a feather flocked together, or so the saying went. Even if one was louder, and the other more quiet, their morals and personality had many similarities.

Although with a person like Raphael who hid many scars, and the mysterious Soren whose change was far too strange to go unnoticed, it was hard to say if a friendship could ever form. Well, that was the most interesting part of being an observer.

Suddenly, Soren's eyes flickered up, lifting under the snowy lashes.

Damien glanced at him curiously, before seeing the reflection in his eyes brought by the somber lights. Slowly, he turned with no surprise in his expression. There was only one other in the room apart from the two.

"Well, don't stop talking because of me." said Raphael lazily, yawning as he stretched his arm out. He was rather relaxed for a paranoid world traveller who had been betrayed many times over.

But then again, his instincts probably made him aware of danger or those who approached. Too much paranoia could ruin a person, no matter how much of a hero they once were.

Maybe, Raphael was already ruined. 

"Good timing." said Soren, not thinking much of it. "Take the kids back."

With one eye opened, and an arm stretched into the air, Raphael looked at Soren. "What?"

"You know what I mean."

A smile stretched across his face as he grinned half-heartedly. His posture was casual, as if he weren't speaking to a prince but a friend. "I don't know, do I?"

"Admitting to your stupidity?"

"Excuse me?"

"If you don't understand, you can only be a fool."

Raphael felt like hitting this pale, troublesome prince once again. He sighed, rolled his shoulders, and leaned back against the wall. His gaze straightened, containing traces of joking words but also seriousness.

"Well, little prince, shouldn't I get a thank you?"

"Thank you." said Soren calmly.

"....." In this sort of scene, was he supposed to say 'Thank you' so easily? Raphael felt like some protest would've been much more interesting — though Soren not meeting his expectations, should've very well been in his expectations.

"Well?" Soren stared at Raphael impatiently, still waiting for him to accept.

Not that he doubted Raphael's compliance, since that man was the sort of justice seeking person who tried to save every person.

He wasn't one to want to save the world; he was one who wanted to save other people. The hopeless kind, Soren figured. Sometimes, it was easier to save the world than to save a single person.

Then again, Raphael was a hero because he chose to face those difficulties.

Raphael shrugged. "Sure, I'm heading back, anyway. I'll take them back with Erlen, wherever he went. You don't plan to head back?"

"You heard it."

"No." denied Raphael casually, yawning once more. "I was sleeping then."

"I'm going on vacation."

"Oh, I see. Wait, you were serious about that?"

Soren gave him a look of disbelief that said 'are you stupid?' If not a vacation, then what else? Work? Not in this lifetime, no way. The look was so piercing that the protagonist couldn't help but pause.

Raphael smiled. "One of these days, I'm going to toss you to the sharks."

"Ok." replied Soren curtly. Then, he said, "I'm leaving. Bye."

"What—"

In a 'it's my way or the highway' sort of air, Soren left the room, with Damien trailing behind.

 There was no need to postpone his long awaited holiday, although it was less of a holiday and more of the last step before he could leave.

To be fair, Soren would only direct the fox into the direction of the corruption, and Damien would manage the rest himself. Eternal affairs were not one's Soren could directly involve himself with. It was too messy, and even more complicated. 

There was also the fact that Damien would conclude it in a neater way, one that would leave no room for betrayal in the future.

He shifted his gaze to Damien at his side, then moved it casually back ahead. The fate of the teenager would be cruel, thought Soren.

Then, he paused. As a familiar mop of red hair entered his visision, he spun on his heels and turned.

'Nope.' thought Soren as he walked the other direction, not caring about whether or not it was the correct direction. It'd lead to the same place, eventually.

Erlen's constant scowl deepened as he sped up with walking, shouting, "Oi! Wait!"

Soren also increased his speed, followed by Erlen, then Soren again and so forth. The two sped down the hallways like children playing a ridiculous game of tag, only one with a calm expression despite the wind blowing through his snowy locks, and the other scowling as he charged forward.

There almost seemed to be a cloud of dust blown behind them as they surged down the old hallways.

At the end, trailing behind, was Damien, who had at some point gone behind Erlen to enjoy the show. If only he'd put on a pair of sunglasses and held a bucket of popcorn, would he represent a true observer.

The three people almost skated across the floors with three very different expressions.

After some time, Soren gave up and stopped, suddenly turning.

Erlen, who had been going at a rapid pace in order to follow Soren, skidded to a stop in panic as he desperately attempted not to bump into his younger brother, throwing himself to the side.

Soren watched in silence. "....."

Erlen coughed awkwardly and straightened, fixing his expression. "Where are you going?"

"None of your business."

"I'm your older brother. I have the right to know where a member of the royal family is planning to go."

Soren lifelessly stared at him. "Speaking nonsense so early in the morning." said the prince with a shake of his head.

Erlen furrowed his brows. "It's evening."

"Nonsense isn't healthy in the evening either."

"....." If Erlen had thought his youngest's personality had gone a dramatic change for the better recently, he now changed his mind. This version of Soren was two times more infuriating, and a hundred times worse.

He took a deep breath to prevent himself from lashing out and asked again, "Where are you going?"

"What are you doing here?" replied Soren calmly, watching as Erlen's face froze, his fingers gripping tightly into his fist in the question instinctively.

"That..."

"Is none of my business?" offered Soren.

"....." Erlen sighed deeply, rubbing his temples. "Listen, you can't just leave and not tell anybody anything."

Soren looked at him quietly. That was exactly what he intended to do in a few weeks' time. However, he didn't say that and instead said, "I talked about it with His Majesty."

That wasn't a lie — he had briefly asked Damien to send the King a note explaining his absence. There was no reason for him being prevented from going out, though he would've done so even if anybody had something to say.

"Huh, he agreed?" Erlen revealed a look of surprise, relaxing his nails that had almost drawn blood. "But why were you here, Soren?"

Even somebody who was insensitive to emotions could hear the traces of suspicion in Erlen's tone. It made Erlen's character the most honest style, unable to scheme like the other princes.

Less dangerous, but still volatile.

"I said, I'm playing."

"You can't honestly expect me to believe that!"

"It's the truth." Soren blinked, indifferent to Erlen's frustration.

To begin with, Soren didn't hide the purpose of the competition for the sake of keeping a low profile, or to prevent himself from gaining his brothers' goodwill. Although those were good reasons, his main reason has been his own identity.

Soren's EQ was low, but his IQ was not.

He didn't doubt the suspicions that several people had towards his grand change, too vivid in the subtlest of ways.

If he were to pull out a special tonic that could heal Atlas, who had been ill for so long, it would be unbelievable. It was impossible for them not to wonder what was up, what sneaky performances were in play.

Soren didn't blame others for their suspicions, either, not when the original had committed too many unreasonable acts. The acts that others might suspect him of doing were ones that had already been done.

The past couldn't be changed, so there was little point in trying.

He just had to keep a low key profile.

"When are you coming back to the palace?" asked Erlen, changing the subject smoothly.

'Never.' replied Soren in his mind casually, though he didn't think it was the right time to announce his disappearance.

"Don't know."

"How long will you be on vacation for?"

"Two weeks."

"When are you leaving?"

"Now."

"How—"

"I'm going." interrupted Soren lazily.

He had answered absentmindedly, but it had begun to feel like an interrogation, and so he cut it short. He didn't plan on playing an interview game with the sibling who despised him the most.

In the end, no answer Soren could give would please Erlen — not that he had any intention of trying to do so.

Before he left, he didn't forget to comment, "You look horrible."

Erlen, seeming as grumpy as always, had dark bags under his feline eyes, the amber dim and dull. His face was gaunt, as if he had skipped a few meals, and skin scarily pale. Even his hair seemed to droop pitifully, hanging in the air.

Soren stopped for a moment and wondered, "You're dying?"

Erlen's face twisted. "Of course not!"

The Fifth observed him quietly.

After witnessing the trend of the original's brothers seeking death, Soren was alert for potential signs. It would be less troublesome if they died, but he couldn't allow for it during his stay in the palace. On the other hand, Erlen felt like his brother was cursing him, sending him to an early grave.

In a sense, it wasn't entirely wrong.

"Good."

Erlen seemed to freeze, his scowl straightening as he repeated cautiously, "Good?"

Soren nodded. "Good."

'Of course. I don't have to waste my time keeping you alive like the others.' thought Soren in the back of his head.

He couldn't watch them die in front of him, but he wouldn't stop them from doing so when they were no longer in his sight.

However, Erlen looked at him strangely. "You..."

It was difficult to understand. Before, his youngest had shown a sort of dependence and desperation towards the other princes, but it had done nothing except disgust Erlen. This sort of consideration... it was different.

"What?"

"Never mind." Erlen's expression seemed especially ugly, and more tired than usual. Soren's instinct perked up cautiously.

"Drink water."

The older prince blinked in surprise. "Ha?"

"Water, sleep and food are necessities." reminded Soren kindly, hoping to not having himself involved in another prince's near death encounters.

Erlen's face grew more and more confused while Soren continued.

"You know, you're an idiot. But you look like death. So you're a bigger idiot."

From almost feeling flattered, the older prince's mood dropped. Erlen closed his eyes and took a deep breath, scowling. "Who the hell are you calling an idiot, you fool?!"

"You."

It was said in such a definite manner that Erlen almost agreed.

"That—"

"Stop bothering me." said Soren impatiently, turning around to walk away. He ignored Erlen, who soon stopped trying to make conversation, and left the building.

The medicine required for Atlas would need to be refined into tea, mixed with other herbs for the best effect and taste. In that way, there would be little room for arguement if he sent it as a gift. The sickly man was not one who could drink tea, but was occassionally fed certain drinks or foods to keep him alive.

If Soren included a note that it was meant to benefit him as well, the tea might reach Atlas.

If not, then Soren could only say that it was fate.

For that job, he chose to leave it to Damien. Soren felt lazy and decided to push any of his responsibilities onto his butler, but it was also for a good reason.

After all, Damien was a talented teenager who never failed to recieve results. He would start something and finish it, no matter how hard the task.

The useful kind of butler.

"Are we leaving now?"

Soren shifted his gaze.

"Yes."