Salvation of The Scum Fifth Prince

[37 - resolve; to save or to run]

The room was cold and unfeeling, devoid of any life since his departure.

Soren's icy eyes raked over the room, landing on the direction of the low voice he had heard. Even in the darkness, he could make out a figure leaning against the wall in the furthest corner.

Their breathing was so quiet, Soren could've thought they were dead. Not to mention the musky scent of blood that lingered faintly in the air, trailing from the door.

The prince stepped forward slowly, eyes adjusting to the darkness.

There he was, that bothersome hero, with his head hanging low and hand grasped over his stomach. There was an unmistakenable air of exhaustion radiating from his battered body.

Soren lowered his eyes.

"Raphael." said the prince slowly, in a half-greeting.

"You're bleeding on my carpet."

Raphael laughed deeply, though his voice was weak and raspy. On the verge of breaking. "What would you like me to do about it?"

"Stop bleeding."

"....."

A long, exasperated sigh.

"You never change. I know you didn't intend to return," Those piercing abyssal eyes lifted to stare straight at the prince. Cautious, careful. Raphael's suspicions never stopped existing."so why are you back?"

"None of your business."

Raphael grinned, clutching his stomach in silent amusement — or frustration. Perhaps a combination of both.

The state of the protagonist was incredibly poor. HIs clothes were ripped, and the scent of blood was heavy in the surrounding air. If not for the cloak which covered Raphael's body, a horrible sight could've been seen.

The prince shifted his eyes to the ground, which had been inked in violent crimson. In the darkness of the room, everything felt more quiet. More dangerous.

Soren wondered, would Raphael Han die just like this?

He watched for a few more moments calmly before turning away. An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth. Raphael had helped him once, that day at the competition. He would return the favour.

Looking around, he rummaged through several drawers before finding bandages that had been left from whenever somebody used it before. There were simple materials for first-aid, but Soren knew them well.

He approached Raphael again.

This time, the man lifted his eyes slightly, peering right at Soren.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Helping you."

Raphael watched quietly as he relaxed his legs, revealing a more exposed position. When he loosened his posture, the damage could be seen.

Wrapping a slender finger around the robes, Soren pulled it off.

Raphael hissed.

A large, ghastly cut ran up his chest, slicing through the cloth as it continuously dripped with blood. Dozens of smaller nicks covered his body, sharp enough to draw blood, but not as grave as the first once Soren had seen.

"Celine did this." said Soren quietly with silent confidence.

Raphael narrowed his eyes as he felt the fingers trail across his chest, wrapping the bandage firmly. "She did."

"Why?"

"Did you want to hear a story before you slept, little prince?" joked Raphael, knowing that the prince had come back to his room likely to sleep. At his teasing tone, the bandages tightened, and he sucked in a breath.