How to Make a Sinner Sleep

79 | identities; to read you a hundred times

The Organizer slipped the mask of another identity over his face, sliding through the crowd. He was a man who could blend into the colour of the background, or stand out even within the shadows.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling a little cold as he turned past a corner casually, into the dark alleys.

A shadow followed him closely behind. Then they turned and froze in surprise, not seeing a person in sight. Squinting, they coldly turned around, greeted by the smiling face of the other party.

The Organizer waved with a lazy grin. "Why, I didn't see you there."

The other's slanted eyes narrowed, the dark pits of their gaze fathomless. In the light, their eyes would gleam in rich amethyst mixed with tendrils of pink, two jewels carved in their face. There were some who would desire those eyes to the point of wanting to rob them.

"I can hear your vulgar thoughts."

"Come on, little dragon. I'm merely thinking about profits."

The dragon snarled. "Don't call me that."

"Ah, yes, I heard." smiled the Organizer, twirling around as he hopped onto a stack of wooden crates, taking a seat. "A certain fox called you by that nickname? Isn't he charming?"

"Our agreement—"

"I know, I know. I was the one who approached you first, back then."

The Organizer lowered his gaze from the stack of crates, seated high above the dragon who scowled continuously, a sunken air surrounding them. He fiddled briefly with a chain around his neck, fingers tracing the curves of the charm.

He looked up at the skies, but there was no moon to stare at and pretend to act in a dramatic play. He sighed sorrowfully.

"You're pretending to be a main character again." deadpanned the gloomy dragon.

The Organizer shrugged. "I like to believe that I am a main character, little dragon. It's all about the mindset these days. You could learn some positivity."

The dragon's scowl deepened, and suddenly, the crates beneath the Organizer decided they couldn't bear his weight, creaking quietly. The next second, the wood snapped, collapsing as the man soared into the air, landing heavily on the ground.

"Hey! Don't be immature."

"It was merely your bad luck."

"Right. Bad luck caused by who now, I wonder?" The Organizer brushed himself off, wiping the white suit that he'd chosen to worn that was completely unsuited for blending in. And yet somehow, he fit in seamlessly with the crowd.

His hair today was a rose pink, curled and styled infuriatingly like an arrogant fool who relied on his parents for money.

His smile dropped. "Now, let's get to why you're looking for me."

The dragon didn't hesitate to speak, wanting to leave as soon as possible. He flicked a crumpled ball of paper at the other. "There's a meeting scheduled that I heard about. They're investigating, right? Have them appear there."

The Organizer opened the paper, smoothening the crinkles as his lips set into a deep frown. Then, he reached out and patted the young dragon on the head.

His hand was almost ripped off by a pair of deadly claws.

"Ah, you're so not cute. I'm helping you, remember? You trust me because you know I haven't lied to you. I'm sure you don't want your important friend to die of blood loss."

The dragon sneered. "I would simply find another to help me."

"Would you? When you're sneaking around like a rat, who can you rely on?"