Salvation of the Scum Fifth Prince

Bedrooms could be called sacred almost, a place where one could be their true selves, the selves that were often hidden away from others preying eyes. 

It was said every person had several sides, the one they revealed to strangers, the one they revealed to loved ones, and the one they revealed to themselves. 

Raphael enjoyed his own solitude and always drew an unforgiving line. Soren, for one, was similar in that aspect, though the line he drew didn't involve hiding his personality, but just putting an obvious distance.

Standing in the small, but comfortable room, Raphael felt speechless.

He had watched from the moment he closed the door as that irritating prince casually kicked off his shoes — a manner that was by no mean respectful in this land, especially with his identity as a prince — and tie his hair back messily, annoyed by the strands that brushed by his face.

The prince yawned tiredly, like a lethargic cat that was looking for a place to rest, and settled into the bed comfortably.

He directly covered himself under the covers, making himself as pleased as he possibly could be until only a fluff of hair could be seen sticking out from outside.

"What are you doing?" Raphael couldn't help but ask.

Soren's voice was a tad muffled, but as indifferent as always. "Sleeping."

"...then where am I supposed to sleep?" For some reason, Raphael had a feeling that things wouldn't go as smoothly as they seemed to be going. 

As expected, Soren peeked his head out of the soft blankets with blearily squinting at him, eyes coated in sleepy haze and unbothered laziness.

As if stating a fact, he said, "On the floor."

"....." Raphael furrowed has brows and sighed. "Yeah, not happening."

A little reluctantly, and a little disgustedly, Soren threw a pillow with a bored thrust of his arms before burying it back under the covers. 

"I'll give you a pillow."

Raphael caught it and stared for a moment. 

A single pillow of four that had been on the double bed which sat in the middle of the room. 

Not enormous, but large enough to fit two people. 

Was he supposed to lie down and say thank you? There was no doubt in his mind that if he dared to ask, Soren would definitely say yes.

In fact, he didn't think that the prince would actually sleep, not when he seemed to be the cautious type that always remained alert. He had already been prepared to stay up all night; doing what exactly, he didn't know.

At least, it wasn't sleeping.

He took off his shoes and tied the two pairs by the door, pulling off his cloak into a neat pile by the shoes. Surprisingly, he was rather neat and tidy — or maybe it was Soren who was too messy.

The moment Raphael sat down on the bed, Soren blinked and squinted at him coldly. "Get off."

'This is unbelievable.’ thought Raphael as he tilted his head to look down at the half-awake prince. 

A single pillow was offered, but the ground was still cold and uncomfortable to lie on, even if this was a five-star hotel.

Hotels like that didn't come with a wooden floor, and certainly not a troublesome roommate who didn't want him on the bed.

Not that it mattered, really.

He flipped over and laid on top of the blankets, tucking the pillow that had been thrown at him under his head as he looked at the blank ceiling in contemplation. The situation was strange, no doubt about it.

Tolerable, however, thought Raphael.

Then, he stretched out towards the lamp, which gently illuminated the room.

Soren's eyes immediately flickered opened.

"Stop."

Raphael raised a brow at him. "Keeping the bed to yourself is one thing, but now you're preventing me from touching the lamp?"

It was ridiculous, but Soren didn't care. "Yes."

"...." Raphael hadn't expected the other to admit it so shamelessly, either. Well, no, he saw it coming, but he was speechless all the same.

"Leave the light on." said Soren, eyes glued onto the hand that was about to reach the lamp. There seemed to be fear, or maybe a little desperation painted on that gaze.

Suddenly, Raphael felt like he understood something. 

"Are you scared of the dark, little prince?" 

His tone was drawn out with amused surprise, the faintest brush of laughter at the edge of each letter.

However, Soren shook his head. "I'm not."

"The way you're acting tells me otherwise, you realize?"

"I'm not."

"Then I'm turning off the light. I don't see why I should listen to you when you clearly have no sympathy for me."

Soren scowled and tiredly pushed himself out of the wrapped up blankets, meeting Raphael's abyssal look straightly. "Want a reason?"

The words were few, but Raphael could understand at this point. Soren was incomprehensible, but it seemed he had naturally built a dictionary for that little prince. "Alright, if you give me one, I'll leave it on."

"If I can choose between light and dark," said Soren with a faintness in his voice from almost falling asleep earlier, "I'll choose light."

It was certainly not an answer Raphael expected at all. "A light this dim, really? What can it even do for you?"

Soren breathed softly and shuffled back under the covers, keeping his back facing Raphael. A defense of some sort was what it looked like. It wasn't that he was conscious or anything of the sort, but lying down was much more comfortable, and this prince was a creature of pleasure.

Or so he insisted.

After a moment of finding the perfect position to melt under the covers, he answered Raphael.

"It's warm."

The two words seemed to drift in the air for a lengthy time, occupying the silent room. A somewhat naïve answer, a simple answer. But an answer that left the most intense impression, emotions pressed under the words.

"What?" 

Raphael completely turned to look at Soren, showing no intentions of touching the light any longer. He didn't really intend to turn it off at the beginning when Soren stopped him, but he didn't intend to cooperate, either. 

Until now.

Soren said nothing more, and Raphael didn't ask.

Lacking emotions did not mean one couldn't admire the trivial things of life. In living again and again through death after death, watching as everybody died around him and only he existed, Soren felt like he was stuck in a suffocating darkness.

Choking, drowning. He couldn't breathe, couldn't see. It was devastating.

When you become used to one thing, the opposite suddenly becomes incredible. It was in the indescribable light Soren found warmth, a blanket that covered his chilling bones that had grown numb over the years.

After he discovered that, he unconsciously had a habit of disliking the dark, or keeping lights on naturally.

Raphael was thoughtful, listening to the sound of gentle breathing filtering through the air. The time before sleep, when one's mind was both clear and hazy at the same time, was also a time of extreme vulnerability.

"Warm, is it?" wondered Raphael out loud.

In many ways, he was different from Soren. That was clear as day to anybody with eyes, and he knew it well. But in many ways, he was also similar to Soren. 

Even Raphael still sought warmth, comfort in the endless cycles where only he remained an outcast.

But he felt that Soren, at this moment, had that sort of admirable innocence to him. Strange as it may be, that childish warmth which Soren cared for deeply made Raphael's impression waver.

Perhaps it was the quiet breaths in the restrained night skies, or maybe it was the unforeseen, words that still rung plainly in his ears. But at this moment, Raphael's guard lowered ever so slightly.

The sword which laid by his side, close enough for him to grab, was grasped tightly, then softly placed on the ground besides as Raphael closed his eyes. 

The bed was especially warm tonight.

Once he had fallen asleep, the two's breaths intertwined into a calming swirl of coexistence.

Late into the evening, Soren's eyes sprung open, sweat trickling down his impassive face, which seemed paler after the twisting dreams. He blinked several times and squinted into the darkness, tugging the covers up more tightly.

Hiding himself away from the horrors that plagued his mind.

Tap.

Something gently moved against his body lightly, shuffling around as Soren's thoughts drained. The night seemed to amplify the faint noises that’d otherwise be overlooked.

Soren frowned and shifted forward, only for Raphael to twist his arm as well, subtly grazing against Soren's back. Not that his sleeping habits were horrible, but the bed wasn't large enough for them to build a river in between.

The arm radiated heat, a heat Soren had long forgotten. 

And such a thing was addicting.

His azure eyes peeked into the darkness vaguely, carrying signs of exhaustion from being woken by the nightmare. Waking up alone was a lonesome thing, but Soren was not a sentimental person. Even so, he dazedly felt the pulsing beat of the person beside him and slowly closed his eyes again.

He listened intently, and felt deeply.

'It's warm.'

Just like the reassuring light that he always reached for, he basked in this unfamiliar warmth. Sometimes, even the least emotional person could suddenly feel a drifting feeling, one so deeply engraved yet ever so fleeting.

Soren soon fell asleep again. A dreamless sleep this time.

The night was a peaceful one.

When Raphael woke up, he felt shuffling beside him. He blinked dazedly at the ceiling with some confusion, but after turning to see the mop of white hair that seemed to suffocate under the blanket, he remembered where he was.

Pushing himself off the bed, he stretched his arms into the air and rolled his shoulders. One would've expected the strange prince to be a light sleeper, but there was no movement other than soft breathing.

Raphael was not considered a danger in Soren's unconscious.

The man rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at the empty place beneath his head. At some point, his pillow had been skillfully snatched, now tucked away under the mound of white containing a single person, and many, many pillows.

At this moment, he could only think 'WTF'. How did that prince even breathe under there? Now that was a mystery even more perplexing than his own reincarnation cycles.

Knock, knock.

A sound echoed in the room, though Soren showed no signs of stirring. Raphael stretched his arms out once more and opened the door to reveal a pale, tired looking teenager with sharp eyes.

Dark eye bags hung under his eyes, making his air more imposing and deadly. The emerald gaze seemed murderous, though that never scared Raphael.

Damien's gaze wandered over to Soren, who was still submerged.

"Master isn't awake yet?" asked Damien, well aware of Soren's sleeping habits.

Raphael shook his head. "I'm assuming you understand the discord between us, but you put us in a room, anyway?"

Damien looked up at Raphael and nodded. "Isn't it interesting, Raphael?"

"....." Like master, like butler, thought Raphael at that moment. Although Soren wouldn't have even noticed the tension between two people, while Damien realized and ignored it purposely.

Which was the worse of the two evils, he didn't really know. He was slightly biased towards the prince.

"Well, I don't suppose you have a method of waking him up?"

"What do you think?"

Raphael rested his arm against the frame and sighed. A master whose replies were short and painful to hear, and a butler whose replies were often cryptic, in the form of another question.

Both weren't helpful at all.

However, he turned and walked over to Soren, mercilessly tearing the blankets off. A firm grip refused to release them, but Raphael mercilessly ripped it away, tossing it on the side.

"Come on, wake up. It's not even that early."

Instead of the expected grumpy face of the prince, he watched as Soren continued to breathe steadily, surrounded by pillows. He didn't even flinch with the blankets off, and Raphael almost thought he was faking it.

But to look so deep in slumber, he had to be a brilliant actor, or faking it. 

The protagonist didn't think it was the former, so only the latter could suffice. He stared at the sleeping corpse in disbelief, before turning his gaze to Damien, who stared back blankly. He'd witnessed this sort of scene for several months and was now immune to any sort of nonsense.

Serving Soren really did a number on people in many ways, none of them good. Although it was entertaining, if anything.

Raphael narrowed his eyes unsurely. "When will he wake up?"

Thankfully, it seemed Damien had taken pity on this poor man and answered clearly, "I don't know."

"Aren't you useful, Damien?" said Raphael with a sigh, rubbing his temples. 

In the end, he stepped back over to Soren's curled up figure. There was much that needed to be discussed, and he didn't have the patience to wait for this prince to wake up in order to do so.

Nonetheless, Raphael could tell that Damien intended to wait until Soren woke up. He crossed his arms, peering at the person on the bed who seemed very satisfied despite his own discomfort.

There naturally had to be a method to wake the prince up, even if he was a deep sleeper. Then, a dubious idea formed in Raphael's head.

An idea that would have Soren calling him an utter fool, though he didn't mind that title.

Raphael hadn't originally expected for a cautious person like Soren to be a light sleeper originally. It wouldn't make sense, given Soren's nature. With the sort of killer instinct Soren gave at times, he wouldn't be naïve enough to deeply slumber while an enemy wandered over him.

Then, there must've been a different sort of instinct, one that didn't reveal itself until certain circumstances were met.

Raphael tapped his sword and grinned coldly. He could satisfy those circumstances.

When Sage stepped into this room holding a tray for breakfast, this is the sort of scene he saw.

A man draped in a dark cloak, frowning as he raised his sword high into the air, the metal bright under the faint light that was flowing into the room. At one end of the room, a gloomy teenager observed with no intentions of moving, emerald eyes faint with interest.

But that wasn't the thing that threw him off the most. What was the strangest about this scene was the man lying on the bed, legs slightly curled up as several pillows surrounded him in a sort of border.

Peacefully sleeping, while a sword loomed over his body.

A striking contrast.

At that moment, Raphael's killing intent fully roared out, forming a suffocating air of darkness in the room — as stifling as the one on the Darkness Mountain.

Sage stepped back, eyes wide in surprise and goosebumps ran up his arms while Damien only narrowed his eyes dangerously, not moving from his spot. 

Even Raphael, the one holding the sword, looked like he didn't want to be there at that moment.

Well, that was because he didn't.

Even so, he drove the weapon down with no intent of stopping it.

"Wait, what do you think you're...!?" Sage rushed out, but as soon as the sword struck the blanket, the sleeping corpse had jerked their icy eyes opened and rolled to the side with inhumane speed, jumping off the bed and landing on their feet lightly.

Soren swiveled his head up, eyes darting with alertness and also a little tired from being woken as his lips curved in a deep frown. His gaze scoured the room and finally narrowed on the gleaming sword held in Raphael's arms, and the aura that was slowly dispersing back into the air.

The prince's lips drew a thin line as he stood up drowsily, his hair a messy ball of fluff on his head while he squinted.

"What?" asked Soren impatiently, walking over the blankets as he plopped onto the ground.

Raphael tucked his sword away unapologetically and grinned. "Morning, little prince."

"It wouldn't be morning if you didn't wake me up."

"So you're aware of that?"

"Yes."

Raphael tapped a finger on his sword. "You're saying you knew of your awful habits, but you didn't want me to wake you up, anyway?"

"Of course not." said Soren calmly. "Sleep shouldn't be interrupted midway."

"...." A certain protagonist couldn't put up with a particular prince's nonsense any longer.

Soren pressed his hair down and turned to look at Damien, who pushed himself off the wall and walked over. The youth lifted his chin as Sage and said, "You can leave that there, and leave. Don't let anybody enter, understood?"

Sage nodded obediently and placed the tray down before leaving, closing the door firmly behind him. The moment the door was closed, Damien slowly moved his head, looking calmly at the others as a suppressed anger swirled within them.

The three people in the room stood facing each other as Damien parted his lips to say,

"There is another traitor in the group."