Salvation of The Scum Fifth Prince

[80 - sinner; tragic watching]

Nobody questioned Soren when he told them that he wanted to find the other Cursed Tattoos, only agreeing with a smile as they went to work. Damien already knew the location of several from his travels and sources that Soren didn't think he wanted to know.

However, the group of people was a little larger this time.

The addition of four certain people who'd tossed aside their responsibilities to tag along. Of four certain people Soren had frowned at and told to stay, but of course, was ignored.

"Do you want help carrying your bag, little brother?" asked Atlas politely as he stretched out a hand.

Soren shook his head.

Later, when they'd sat down by the fire, a bowl of soup was thrusted in his direction, so that several drops spilled out and tumbled onto the ground. For the most part, it was intact.

"Here, take it."

Erlen didn't meet Soren's gaze as the bowl remained in the air. The latter narrowed his ice blue eyes dangerously, and slowly took the bowl. Wasting food wasn't good, after all. When he accepted, Erlen's eyes excitedly flicked over to Brioc as if showing off.

The magician raised his brows, purple eyes glittering in amusement as if to say, 'So what?'

Another thing that happened was when Soren tripped after waking up in the morning, his mind still a muddled mess from the terrible nightmares that continuously plagued him because of the memories. He stumbled on a root, and was it his irritating lover that caught him? No.

A strong pair of arms wrapped around him carefully, and almost awkwardly as the prince lifted his eyes to stare at a pair of amber eyes. Vincent asked, "Are you injured?"

"...I'm fine."

The arm that was holding him still didn't let go, and Soren had to struggle before adding, "You can let me go now. Thank you."

"Oh. Yes."

In the back, Celine bustled with loud laughter as Vendra laughed lightly, whispering to the other. They exchanged glances as they watched, eyes curved.

The last example of this bothersome group was when Soren accidentally hit his head.

As he turned around suddenly when somebody called out his name, his head had hit the large branch of a tree. The 'smack' echoed loudly in the silence.

Smack— ack— ack.

Alvara had coughed, then doubled over in laughter as Brioc joined in with a loud whistle, eyeing the bruise that was forming on Soren's forehead.

Even Raphael had chuckled as he walked over to treat the injured man's wounds.

However, Deimos had rushed forward and rubbed his clammy hands all over Soren worriedly, as if he hadn't been hit by a branch but stabbed instead. Soren's chin was tilted, mint eyes observing every crook of his face.

"Soren! Does it hurt? Do you need medicine? Should I buy you some?"

The calm prince, whose forehead throbbed more from a headache than the injury, blinked. "No."

"Are you certain?"

"Yeah."

"Really?"

"....." Soren tilted his head away from Deimos and stared at Raphael in a silent prayer, unblinkingly. The protagonist cleared his throat with a wide smile as he walked over and rubbed the bruise that was starting to bloom.

"He's fine, Prince Deimos. It'll heal quickly." reassured Raphael as Deimos nodded.

The second prince made sure to warn Soren, "If it hurts later, tell me."