Salvation of The Scum Fifth Prince

[78 - three; dying memories]

He woke, jerking up on the soft duvets as tears dripped down his pale blue eyes.

This time, it wasn't a dream that blurred away with his memory, but a clear, haunting image burned into his mind as it played on continuous repeat.

Even the snippets of Raphael's own thoughts that had wandered into his memory. Perhaps because the Death God had stolen Raphael's, and it had unknowingly gotten mixed together, blended by the familiar scenes.

There were many questions unanswered.

The memories which had flowed in unorganized streams didn't show the complete depth of the details. Of the time spent waiting, knowing Raphael would likely die. Of the after that awaited when the cold news was delivered.

How Ren Suzuki became a God, only after giving up on humanity.

Soren could predict it, however. Although Raphael had impacted his current life to such an extent, in the first world, the only person Ren had was Raphael. There was no crazy magician that kept the room lively, or a proper yet murderous teenager who always watched over him.

No siblings, no family. Just corpses that trailed behind him with every step.

He swallowed, and bent over, rubbing his throbbing temples. There was a burst of pain that gradually dulled, only to beat again every time he thought of the past.

There was a burn rising in his throat.

Then he doubled over even further as liquid splashed from his mouth, painting the pure white covers a terrible red. The cough lasted for minutes as each brought a splatter of blood along with it.

And as always, with the protagonist's perfect timing, a knock sounded at the door. Soren didn't need to see the person to know who it was.

"Are you awake, Ren?"

Soren peered over at the closed curtains, seeing the faint stream of light creep from the gaps. Morning already. He opened his mouth to answer, but only more dripping liquid slipped out as he choked.

"Ren?"

The voice was becoming increasingly alarmed, and Soren wanted to say that he was fine. He really was. This was likely simply a consequence of remembering. The aftereffects. But by the end of the day, he would be fine.

However, he couldn't speak.

"I'm coming in, alright?" said Raphael firmly, although his tone was careful and he didn't directly burst in. "If nothing's wrong, say it now. Or I'm definitely opening the door."

Soren could only helplessly wipe away the blood at his face, smoothening it clumsily over the covers as the red continued to spread. He jerked his head around in panic, looking for something to clean everything up.

He didn't want Raphael to worry over such a trivial matter. More importantly, he didn't want Raphael to ask what happened. He wasn't even sure if he wanted Raphael to remember.

The weighing pressure that had been on that hero's shoulders as he was forced to step to his death.

How did it feel?

The prince hastily jumped up, only to slip in the covers that tangled from his movements, falling to the ground with a loud thud.

The door burst open at that moment, and the person moved towards him quickly in large strides.

Raphael's raven eyes skimmed over the bloody covers that had been spread across every corner after Soren's tugging and messy attempts to wipe it away, then to the blood that still trickled down those now crimson lips. There were still tear tracks embedded into the pale skin, sky eyes glassy and confused.