How to Make a Sinner Sleep

19 | sold; the crease between brows

The bar's hushed whisperings that contained all sorts of illegal dealings was normal in the Inky Tavern, built for the privacy of nobles and the foolish beggars that gained a temporary shelter.

Here, the hierarchy was absolute. 

When one proved useless to the noble, they would be immediately refused entry and left to plead fruitlessly on the streets again.

Yoser thought of himself as lucky to have gained a long-term deal with a noble, allowing him to indulge in debauchery for many years to come. However, he was well aware of the way of the world, and without extra money, he wouldn't survive later.

That was why, for the sake of his own survival, he would not reject the idea of selling his own flesh and blood.

The scrawny child indeed carried the image of the once beautiful woman, his wife that laid beneath the earth. Thinking of that, Yoser paused in his drinking.

The other man raised his glass. "What now, hm? Changing your mind already?"

"It might leave a bad taste in my mouth. I did love that woman. His mother, you know." said Yoser slowly, taking another swig.

And that was no lie.

He'd courted the beautiful, kind, and lovely woman for a decade before she agreed to his proposal. It'd been a beautiful dream, the small cottage in the woods that had made her face light up in joy.

The happy family of three, despite their poverty, had lived well. Yoser recalled how his son once ran up to him happily, how he'd lift him up and swing him around.

His mind was blurry, intoxicated and worn out from the years of alcohol.

It was all so, so happy—until she left him.

Betrayed him, running away with another man and not leaving behind a single letter or offering. He'd wanted to trust her, in the beginning, his love still fresh and strong.

All the taunting whispers in his ear, the scorn and the mockery. How the people of the slums said he'd fallen for a vixen, that he was delusional to believe she loved him. Years and years, he endured the taunting.

How could he continue in trusting somebody who wasn't there for years on end?

And then that noble had approached his house, offering a sum of money for his child—one that his wife had supposedly sold in her faraway destination.

Of course, he accepted the money. Of course, he agreed to the terms.

This was his wife's last will to him, the confirmation that she'd truly left him for wealth. Yoser's mind shattered, heartbroken and filled with rage and vengeance.

He abandoned everything.

Save for the child that still carefully opened the door every evening, calling out for him in a broken, fearful tone.

His companion across the dirty wooden table slammed his drink down, giving a hearty laugh. "This was your issue Yoser, you trusted that vixen for so long, and look where it got you! She left you! You weren't good enough, clearly."

"...so you have been telling me for years, bastard. I'll think about it further, but not right now. I want to drink, tch." Yoser waved his thick fingers sluggishly, shaking his head. "Shoo, get out. You're irritating me."

"Sure, sure. I'll talk to you next time, and I hope to hear some good news."

The man stood up, winking with a sickening smile stretched on his peeling lips, and sauntered off with his arm around a frail woman, no likely heading out for the night,