Salvation of the Scum Fifth Prince

Choosing to take a night to sleep over things was Raphael’s idea after silence fell upon the room. Damien escaped at some point to speak to his tribe, most likely digging for more information at the dead of the night.

Alvara took it upon herself to ask Vincent, of all people, for help with her fighting to which the stone-faced prince looked absolutely confused and startled, yet agreed anyway.

The conversation had gone something like:

Alvara smiled and looked up at a confused prince who looked back at her after just entering the room.

The said prince frowned and asked slowly, “Is there something you need of me?”

A harmless, innocent nod was the teenager’s reply, crimson eyes curved into a smile one simply couldn’t reject. “Hey, your highness, do you think you could help me train? Please?”

“I…” Sensing a possible rejection, the light dimmed in Alvara’s eyes slightly as she nervously gripped her shirt. Vincent paused, glancing over at Soren before sighing. “Very well. I can only help you for a short period of time.”

The necromancer understood how busy he was and nodded eagerly. “Yes! Thank you!”

And then the first prince who’d forgotten why he came over to begin with was spirited away.

What Soren didn’t understand after Celine and Vendra left to look after Uriel, was why Alvara winked at Raphael and him, flashing a grin.

A teenager’s mind worked in mysterious ways.

Raphael, on the other hand, seemed to be easily read the thoughts Soren couldn’t fathom — the fifth prince decided that it must be because Raphael’s mind was also that of a child’s.

In the end, he was dragged outside to go on a walk.

“It’s fresh air.” insisted Raphael as he tugged on the other’s arm with a lazy pull. “Something I’m sure you need.”

“I don’t.”

“I have your best interest in mind.”

“I disagree.”

As if one could have somebody’s best interest when such an obvious, teasing smile rested upon the protagonist’s thin lips.

“What do you want to do when everything’s over, little prince?”

The question abruptly sent ripples through the silence, and Soren stopped, tilting his head. A while ago, no doubt, his reply would’ve been ‘to disappear’. In fact, he vaguely recalled saying something similar to Raphael in the past.

To run away from people and the responsibilities this body had to bear, to live a quiet life travelling while counting the days to his death.

Perhaps, along the way, a method to die would’ve been found and his story would’ve concluded just like that.

Though he wouldn’t tell Raphael these thoughts of his.

“I want…” His voice dropped as a flash of shadow appeared in the corner of his eye, and he snapped his head over to the empty corner. The blurry image of a standing man quietly watching etched into his mind as he stared.

Raphael followed his sight and frowned. “Did you see something?”

Soren blinked, and then shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

There was disbelief in those abyssal eyes that even the emotionally dense Soren could recognize, but he turned a blind eye to it and continued his earlier sentence. “I still want to travel.”

“And is your goal still to do so alone?”

Soren opened his mouth, only to feel the weight of the other’s stare. Finally, he said, “No.”

Raphael smiled in satisfaction. “Well, isn’t that good?”

The calm rays of light reflected off his black hair, making them a little lighter as he was dyed in the sun’s warm hue. His eyes stared at Soren with affection, the emotions unrestrained and free in his expression.

Soren thought it was really too bad that he still couldn’t remember everything. Couldn’t remember the little moments like this when the bothersome protagonist was somewhat good-looking.

A question Raphael didn’t expect was the next thing to be spoken. “What do you want to do?”

It wasn’t something that the protagonist thought of often, but at the same time he’d always wanted to break free of the neverending cycles. A moment after chaos, when peace and serenity came — that was something he stopped hoping for.

Raphael mulled over his thoughts for a while longer, though the other waited patiently on the side. Then, he said, “I think I’ll travel too. I haven’t seen much of this world either, and there’s nothing else I’d like to do.”

“I see.” said Soren, before adding, “Where should we go?”

It was as if the fact that they were going together was already set in stone. Raphael’s smile tugged up a little more in recognition.

“I’ll ask Damien for recommendations, I’m sure that kid has plenty. We can take Alvara along for a ride, she hasn’t seen much. Brioc too, that freedom-loving maniac, when he decides to return.”

The ghost of a smile was gently painted on the prince’s lips. “Prince Deimos might also want to come.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot how much he’s travelled. He could be a good tour guide, and an even better GPS for a certain directionally-challenged fool.”

Soren narrowed his eyes and Raphael raised his chin teasingly in an arrogant manner. “What? Did I say something incorrect, little prince? I think we should be on the same page about your skills in finding the way.”

A scoff was the only reply Raphael received.

Regardless, Raphael continued, eyes lost in the faraway clouds, mind drifting into hopeful possibilities. “I’ve heard that in the far west, there’s an interesting area to explore. It’s unknown and supposedly covered in strange creatures. And then I’m also curious about the other tribes that we’ve yet to meet.”

“Vendra may know how to contact them.”

“Really? That’s great, I’ll speak to her about it later.”

“She might want to travel, too.”

“You’re right, it’ll be all of us then. It’d be too quiet otherwise.” nodded Raphael with a light laugh, and Soren almost had the illusion that it was already the future, peaceful and carefree, speaking about where to go next and what adventures awaited ahead.

The thought felt… somewhat childish.

But for the two that were trapped and shackled by fate and circumstance for so many years, their wants weren’t big or extreme.

To travel. To live comfortably. To be with those they cared for.

To be free.

As they walked, Soren — who was unusually calm and steady most of the time despite looking like he wanted to sleep — stumbled in his step. Raphael caught him, only to have the other not respond for several moments as if in a daze.

Raphael narrowed his eyes, scrutinising. “Little prince? Ren? Hey?”

Soren slowly lifted his head up, squinting. “I’m tired.”

“.....”

“It was your fault for forcing me to go out.”

The now-blamed protagonist shook his head with a sigh and allowed Soren to pull away and steady himself, looking as if he hadn’t tripped at all. Honestly, for the little prince to accidentally trip and then decide to become a limp noodle in order to escape… Raphael wouldn’t put it beside Soren to do something similar.

Soren, from Raphael’s understanding, would easily get trapped in his own confusing tangle of strange ideas, before deciding to run away from them.

Most likely, the idea of travelling in such an inhibited manner was too surreal.

Even for Raphael, speaking about ‘after’ the chaos was hard to swallow or believe. After all, he’d wanted the chaos to end for so long, but it never did. At some point, one would give up on that idea.

Before they could turn back to the castle, a person casually strolled through a pathway, wriggling his fingers playfully as his lips curved into a rather annoying smile. Violet eyes that seemed clearer and more stable than when Soren had seen them last.

“Renren~ did you miss me?”

Soren's answer was plain. “No.” Knowing the way Brioc would pretend to be dramatic and offended, he soon added, “It wasn’t for a long time.”

“It was a long time for me!” gasped Brioc as he stepped forward, finding a way to cause drama even when there was nothing to work with.

Raphael nodded at him. “Welcome back, magician.”

“Nice seeing you, Raphy~”

Another irritated voice came from behind him, entering the scene as well. “The hell? Shouldn’t you be more cautious of somebody showing up out of the blue, idiot.”

A flash of surprise crossed the icy eyes before Soren scowled.

However, it was Brioc’s whose expression turned mocking and he glanced at Soren, before looking back at the other prince. “Who’s the actual idiot, Leny?”

He came back to give Soren an apology, and instead ended up offending him.

Great success.

And of course, upon Brioc’s words, Erlen quickly remembered the entire, painful time he had with Brioc, and that he intended to apologise about his previous actions. It wasn’t as if he expected to be forgiven, or that he desperately wanted closure, but just that he was really in the wrong.

He’d done whatever he pleased when it came to Soren, and that wasn’t right. Erlen understood that, if only recently.

Soren’s eyes skimmed over Erlen coolly and rather indifferently. “Why are you here?”

The third prince faltered, his expression looking complicated and uncertain. “I…”

“We heard some interesting rumours about you, Renren~” interjected Brioc as he grinned. “You’re famous, don’t you know?”

Raphael raised his brow. “We?”

“...yes, I had the misfortune of accompanying Leny, how exciting.” His smile looked a little dead and Raphael chuckled.

“I’ve heard about the rumours.” said Soren without a care, relaxing his shoulders as the drifting wind washed over his head. “I have an idea of their intention already.”

“What intention?”

“They want to make me take the Third Religion Leader’s place.”

Brioc narrowed his eyes, his demure going more serious. “What do you mean, Renren?”

Soren lazily lifted his eyes, and Brioc’s words fell short as the prince’s pale blue eyes echoed with a knowing that nobody could comprehend. It was as if nothing in the world mattered, and everything that happened was a destiny he already knew.

Raphael stepped forward, having slipped off his jacket at some point and roughly tossed it over the prince’s gaze, hiding him from the world’s view.

There was a frown inked onto thin lips, lowered eyes containing a thoughtful dislike. As if he wanted to trap away whatever strange thoughts had started to brew in the prince’s head.

“It means,” said Raphael slowly as Soren shuffled, pushing off the jacket that was over his head, “That somebody wants this fool to become a God.”

Soren yanked off the cloth, scowling. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I thought you were cold.”

A narrow stare was the only answer he received in return. Soren turned to Brioc and explained, “I have a feeling that it’s the case. There are people who want to stop the Third Religion’s Leader, and the easiest way is to find somebody to replace them. A person that can become an icon and overshadow all others.”

He yawned as he explained, crossing his eyes with a hint of tired lingering behind. Taking into consideration all the things that happened, and the order of how everything was progressing, this was the most likely reason.

Not to mention…

“I need to see Lydia.”

There was a suspicious person that still hadn’t been explained after all this time, a person who knew too much and lived too long, seeming to pull at the strings in the background.

Who else knew about all the things he had done since he entered the world, outside of the little group that was at the palace?

Somebody even Damien couldn’t find so easily, when his connections spread across the continent.

Perhaps, Soren had decided, it was a particular person who didn’t seem to belong anywhere in this world, yet knew more than any other behind those painted red lips and sweet, syrupy words.

As he said that, Damien jumped down from a tree, stretching his arms out as he stood up, tail curled around his legs as he glanced around calmly.

Brioc waved with a grin. “Miemie~”

The magician was ignored.

“Miss Jones wishes to speak to you, master.” said Damien, holding an envelope between two fingers as he handed it over. “We received this letter only a few hours ago, and they delivered it to me now.”

“What does it say?”

“Nothing but a request for her to enter the palace.”

“Let Vincent know, and arrange it for tomorrow.” said Soren with a nod.

Damien tilted his head. “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“Understood, master.”

The fox disappeared once again into the garden, and Soren started to walk away, heading back to the castle. Raphael followed him, looking at him sharply. “Where are you going?”

“To sleep. I’m tired.” He said it in such a confident and matter-of-factly way that Raphael couldn’t find the words to respond. Instead, the protagonist nodded in farewell to the other two who had been left stranded.

Brioc noticed something and shrugged, turning to the other prince — his least favourite one, decided the magician conclusively as he stared. “Hey Leny, give me a room to stay.”

Erlen sneered. “Why would I do that?”

“Forcing me to leave… Do you think I’d return? Let me tell you, all you’ll do is let one of Soren’s few allies escape.” smiled Brioc charmingly, flashing his teeth. “Hmm~ what will you do?”

“.....tsk.” He spun on his heels and stalked away. “If you get lost, that isn’t my problem.”

On the other hand, Soren had closed the door and claimed to want to sleep immediately, so all Raphael could do was return to his own room.

There were little things he noticed that were strange about the prince, and eventually those little things would add up and become so big, nobody would be able to do anything about it.

Raphael rested his forehead on the closed door, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath.

“If there is anything wrong, little prince,” muttered the man so quietly that it wouldn’t reach the other side. “Please tell me.”

As expected, Soren didn’t hear it, already in his covers and curled up, eyes shut. There was a bit of discomfort in his stomach, and a dull ache in his bones. Before he spoke to Lydia, he wanted to have those nightmares return once more.

Because in the fear that he saw, the more understanding he gained.

It didn’t take long for him to drift off to sleep, the tiredness from many days easily catching up to him at once. It was impossible for Soren to have insomnia when all he felt was sleepiness.

And when he was groggily awoken from his sleep by his own instinct, and the blur of shadows crept into the corners of his eyes, he smiled.

He leaned back against the bed, the low murmur of creaking the only sound present as the shadow approached. A shadow that had a familiar face that Soren recognized well, only dyed in deep resentment that he couldn’t envision in reality.

“Ren Suzuki.” said the shadow in a low mutter, as if cursing his name.

“Raphael Han.” replied the prince in a quiet voice, traces of exhaustion still in his melancholic blue gaze. “I’ll listen to your story.”

The story of the protagonist that didn’t exist in the novel he read.

A story he’d forgotten.