Chapter Text
The first sensation he was greeted with upon waking up in this world was the rough hand tapping his body, a movement that would’ve been welcoming if it was any other situation; however, the words that followed made his eyes shot open.
“Young master, it is morning.”
Blinding yellow (danger, danger, danger-) screamed at him.
What the-
He woke up immediately.
Young master?
He was greeted with an old man, standing by his side, a grass green (freshing, as if satisfied-) smile on his face. However, he wasn’t fooled. This old man’s eyes may be filled with pastel pink (gentle, kind) and grass green, but the blinding yellow (danger) hidden behind amber (lies, deceits, who was he fooling?) was clear as day.
(Lemon yellow filled his body. It was bitter. He suppressed a shudder.
Maybe that should’ve been a sign.)
“It is surprising to see you wake up after a single attempt.”
“Huh?”
“The master wishes to dine with the young master since it has been a while. It looks like it will be possible today.”
He caught a glimpse of… himself in the mirror behind the old man. Red hair, reddish-brown eyes, cloud gray (confusion) filling his whole face.
I guess that guy is me...?
“Young master Cale?”
He froze, bright yellow ringing like an alarm in his head.
“Cale Henituse?”
“Yes. That is your name, young master. I’m guessing you are still a bit drunk.”
If he didn’t know any better, he’d say that the concerned indigo coming from the old man’s words was genuine. As it was, there were far more pressing matters right now, such as who he was and who was around him.
If he was Cale Henituse, then… then-
Beacrox. Chef.
Ron. Beacrox’s father. Butler .
He put his head into his hands, dark purple (dread) creeping up inside him as he tried to get his scattering thoughts in order. His hair fell in front of his face, and he stared at the color. The red hair was way too different from his original black hair, it was almost jarring.
He had just been reading the novel [The Birth of a Hero] before going to sleep the previous night, and now he’d woken up surrounded by the characters that appeared in the novel.
As one of the characters.
“Young master?”
“Cold water.”
“Excuse me?”
He looked at the face of Cale Henituse in the mirror behind the old man Ron. The face that should’ve been beaten up in the beginning of the novel still looked normal.
I guess Cale hasn’t been beaten to a pulp by the main character just yet.
At least he had a good looking face.
“Young master, I presume you will not be bathing in cold water. Are you asking for drinking water?”
He - Cale - turned his gaze towards Ron, taking the time to look deep into the man. The novel had described Ron as a vicious and cruel assassin pretending to be a benign old man. He would’ve believed Ron really was like a concerned grandfather, if it hadn't been for his previous knowledge thanks to the said novel.
His synesthesia played a huge role in that, too.
Yes, his synesthesia. The condition he had since birth as Kim Rok Soo allowed him to associate emotions with colors, most of the time unintentionally. It had helped him a lot to survive as he grew up, and it looked like it would still continue to do so- even now when he’d become Cale Henituse.
Case in point being Ron.
“Please get me some drinking water.”
“I will prepare it right away.”
“Great. Thanks.”
He really needed to clear his mind first.
He ignored the brief cloud gray radiating from Ron.
Once he was left alone, Cale went into the bathroom, staring at himself in the full body mirror that only Cale Henituse would own in this house.
“I really am Cale.”
There’s no denying it now.
One good thing about [The Birth of a Hero] was that it was really descriptive in just about every detail. That way it was hard for any misconceptions and confusions to appear. And somehow, in one way or another, the man who was previously Kim Rok Soo had become Cale Henituse.
Familiar cool gray (indifference is the safest second skin possible) settled in his heart as Cale calmly thought back on what had gotten him to this point. What was originally a typical day off where he’d gotten the whole series of [The Birth of a Hero] to read all day long had brought him here. As Cale Henituse. The trash of a young master who was beaten up mercilessly by the main character all the way back in the beginning of the first volume.
The main character might’ve been Korean, sure, however he was still someone who got transported from Earth to another world when he was a freshman in high school. Not to mention that he got a lifespan as long as a dragon’s.
“...This is bad?”
He was going to be beaten up by such a person?
But he wasn’t beaten up just yet.
Which meant that he still had a chance.
Cale slowly lowered himself into the tub as he stared up at the expensive ceiling, mumbling to himself. Thistle slowly crept up his skin before he caught himself. Ah. Were the memories that bad, though? No. Not really. There’s really not much to miss from his old life as Kim Rok Soo. It wasn’t like he had anything special. He had no one and nothing to live for, and only continued living - surviving - because it was the only thing he could still do.
But that was changed when he got here.
He hated pain. That might be ironic, coming from him of all people, but he truly detested pain. It was annoying. And don’t get him started on death.
Which was why, first and foremost, he needed to avoid getting beaten up.
He didn’t think it’d be that hard to do. Cale Henituse was the trash of the Count Henituse’s family who got drunk all day long and picked fights everywhere. Such a guy got beaten up by the main character Choi Han for that reason. As long as he didn’t pick a fight with Choi Han, he should be safe.
…as safe as someone who lived on a continent that will get involved in war in the future could be, but as long as he sent Choi Han and company away, he should be fine. They’ll handle the rest.
“It’s worth trying.”
It really was.
“Young master, are you inside the bathroom?”
And he knew what to do in order to get the most important thing for him- a peaceful, relaxing life where he can slack off and not do jack shit.
“Yes. I’ll be right out.”
Aside from Choi Han, the biggest thorn on his side as of now was Ron. An old man who wore indigo (as if he was truly worried in the first place) and pastel pink as if they were second nature, but not even the amber could hide the blinding yellow and fiery red (viciousness, a hungry predator chasing after a prey) deep within. It gave Cale the shivers. He knew what was coming. He knew what was going to happen, and he knew that whatever happened, Ron must absolutely not be with him.
(Ron abandoned the Cale in the novel straight away after he got beaten up by Choi Han, anyways. Why would he stay if Cale, no, Kim Rok Soo, tried his best to send him - and Beacrox - away?)
(Ah. He tasted lemon again.)
He picked up the glass of cold water from Ron and walked past him quickly. He didn’t want to make eye contact with such a scary old man.
(Lemon yellow remained in the frontmost of his mind, in his tongue, whenever he got close to Ron.)
(It really, really should’ve been a sign.)
After being dressed up by the servants, he was sent on his way for breakfast with the rest of the Henituse family.
The walk there was… something. The servants were filled with so much overwhelming purple (fear, fear, fear) that it made him wonder if the novel had played off Cale’s trashy-like personality. Because as far as he knew, Cale never went as far as to physically harm people.
Well, it’s better if nobody talks to me.
He didn't think much of it. He was good at that.
Ron sent him off and Cale walked into the dining room. Almost immediately he noticed the faint undercurrent of bruise purple (wary, waiting for the slightest chance to get hurt-) throughout the room, clashing with the stronger hue of cinnamon (sweet, sweet home and safety and care and-) and wavering tulip pink (a love so foreign it gave him the shivers).
Huh.
This was what the Henituse family was like? This was what Cale Henituse dealt with?
“You are late again, today.”
The one who had spoken was Cale’s father, Count Deruth Henituse. Said to be an average man whose only specialty was having lots of money. Not that Cale minded. Not at all. Money was better than power when war was on the horizon, after all.
(He briefly eyed Deruth’s aura; cream (wise and just as creative) and cinnamon almost hiding the fiery orange (a color as bright as the bravery within) and fiery red underneath.
The cream and cinnamon he understood; Deruth certainly wouldn’t have thriven as a count if he didn’t have that much. That explained the fiery orange, too. But the fiery red, on the other hand-
Should an average - if slightly very, very rich - count from a small city in a large kingdom have such an aura?
Cale pretended he didn’t see it.)
The three other family members were there as well. His stepmother Violan who avoided the stepson who disliked her, her smart first-born son Basen who found it difficult to deal with Cale, and the cute youngest of the family Lily who avoided her much older brother Cale.
None of them bothered Cale, and Cale didn’t bother them either. It was a household full of familiar strangers. Some might find the family dynamic strange, but Cale just thought that their family’s environment made it easier for him to live quietly.
(He never had much experience with family. This was good enough for someone who had once been Kim Rok Soo.)
He took his seat and was about to start eating if it wasn’t for the spikes in the colors around him. Cale lifted his head.
The bruise purple was mostly gone now, leaving pistachio (hesitance, as if deciding whether to approach or run away-) and lily white (clear and genuine apologies) in its wake.
What an odd combination.
“Is there something you need to say, Father?”
“...No.”
His family members all looked away when he looked towards them. Gray (forced neutrality) - and even silver (the perfect color for such a sophisticated family) - replaced the previous colors.
I guess they find me really difficult to handle.
Well, it wasn’t a big problem. If they were going to act polite, he’ll gladly do the same- without much, if any, effort if he could help it.
(Even so, Deruth’s tulip pink never changed. It grew more vivid, in fact, the longer Cale stayed for breakfast. Cale didn’t know what to think of it. He never knew what Deruth Henituse truly felt towards Cale Henituse; he didn’t know what the count’s reaction had been, when Cale Henituse was beaten up by Choi Han. Was he embarrassed? Guilty? Upset?
Not that it mattered anymore , Cale thought, cool gray as he looked at Deruth’s tulip pink smile. It’s fine. It doesn’t matter.
It’s not like I’m the real Cale Henituse anyways.)
Even so, he’s Cale Henituse, now. The trash of the count’s family. All he had to do was act his part. Easy, really.
Being trash really is the best.
And if he got a scrumptious meal he never had as Kim Rok Soo before and way too much allowance from it? All the better.
(Cale thought back about the cloud gray on Basen’s features, followed by flush pink (embarrassment) as he dropped his fork, as well as Deruth’s grass green smile before he left. It was probably nothing.)
(The whole fiasco with the study was… odd… and when Ron gave him lemonade…
Cale shuddered.
Really, he should’ve known.)
But for now, he had a tree to please and a shield to get.
Stepping into [The Fragrance of Tea with Poetry], Cale was greeted with sharpened auras and bright yellow, before it morphed into dark purple. He ignored the other customers, instead focusing on the owner of the shop, who was calmly welcoming him.
Billos. The potential future owner of a merchant guild who worked with Choi Han in the novel.
He looks like a piggy bank.
Billos’ extremely bright smile might be charming, as it was practically dripping with orange (cheerful), but Cale knew the truth. Black-tinted red (so frustrated he didn’t know what to do with himself-) and overwhelming blue (self-centredness) practically shrouded his whole being underneath the orange.
But what was even more eye-catching was the dark orange.
(Cale remembered, when he was still Kim Rok Soo, being faced with smiling faces of all sorts of people surrounding him at work. Their smiles were all sorts of colors, creating rainbows that hurt his eyes, but they couldn’t fool him. No, they never could’ve fooled him.
How could they, when their whole beings practically reeked of dark orange, wanting to take and take and take and take everything?
He didn’t hate them. He didn’t hate their dark orange, their boundless greed.
How could he, when he’d always been greedy himself?)
Cale took out a gold coin. “I plan on staying on the third floor all day today.” He couldn’t afford to be irresponsible. He’d already missed the day the residents of Harris Village got assassinated; at this point, he was already on borrowed time. Choi Han was coming to Rain City, and fast . “Any tea that is not bitter. Do you have novels here too or just poems?”
A loud clang as someone put down their teacup, the sound a clear bright yellow. Cale ignored it.
In any case, he got what he wanted; a nice cup of tea, a good novel, boasting about how rich he was, and peace and quiet. He took his seat by the window and kept an eye out.
After a few moments, Choi Han soon came into view. Cale forcibly shook away memories of Choi Han beating the shit out of Cale in the novel, focusing on the real and present Choi Han. The tea shop was too far away from the gate, so Cale couldn’t see much, but he could still faintly see the outline of Choi Han’s aura from here.
Black (death death death), light brown (Cale couldn’t blame him, the punk certainly looked utterly exhausted) and cedar (desperation) surrounded him, but Cale could spy another color in the mix.
Drowning blue.
(Cale - Kim Rok Soo - was familiar with drowning blue. The emotion, unnamed yet recognizable, settled in his heart amidst the red-and-blue headlights. The emotion, already long named, heavy in his throat as his head was plunged underwater by a big, calloused hand. The emotion, blanketed by fuzzy gray as he blankly watched red surrounded him and there was copper on his tongue and-)
The colors moved away, and Cale shakily breathed out.
“They kicked him out.”
No one was there to hear the brief crack in his voice.
“He didn’t break anything!”
The unmistakable periwinkle (unadulterated relief), traces of blue (disbelief) and grass green in the shout might’ve been amusing, any other time, but Cale ignored them.
He ignored them.
…he really needed that shield.
“Youn- young master. Welcome.”
Ah, hell.
He really couldn’t deal with this right now, but he had to.
(Since when had stopping because he felt shitty helped?)
“Give me some bread.”
“Excuse me?”
Slowly yet surely Cale felt onyx black (proper, his head held high up, without any distractions and not-) settling in his skin again. Good. He pointed at all the bread in the bakery.
“Everything from here to there.” The gold coin he tossed towards the table spun. “Pack it all up.”
The baker’s aura started to fluctuate wildly, but he quickly started to move again after a light threat. The whole thing ended with grass green sparkling in the baker’s aura with him a gold coin richer and Cale hefting a bag full of bread over his shoulder. It was quite heavy. Granted, it was a full bag of them, but still. He needed this much to at least get a head start on getting The Indestructible Shield.
It went quite well until he reached the slums.
Almost immediately harlequin green gnawed at Cale’s stomach.
(Harlequin green. A feeling, an emotion, a color that was so uncannily familiar to Kim Rok Soo, from childhood all the way to adulthood. A sensation that pooled painfully in his stomach, depriving him away from any sense of self until he filled it back up again.
If he could even fill it back up again anyways. )
He’d never liked it. But he grew accustomed to it as he grew up. He had to. There was no other choice.
But Cale - Kim Rok Soo - hated it even more when it’s not him who felt it.
Despite himself, he glanced around, making all the people who were peeking at him back off. These people living in the slums, despite not knowing the count’s face, undeniably knew about Cale Henituse’s face. They had to, in order to survive. They needed to know the people who’d cause a ruckus somewhere, and Cale Henituse was definitely the type to cause one.
And yet that didn’t stop them from smelling the bread in the bag Cale was holding. Cale looked away and marched onwards. He ignored their pleading gazes. But even when he wasn’t looking directly at them, the effects stayed.
Harlequin green. It hurt .
Cale, back when he was still Kim Rok Soo and just starting to learn about the world, did his own research on synesthesia. He wasn’t able to find much, but he took what he could find. He knew that most people with synesthesia all had different types of them and different experiences; seeing colors when hearing music, tasting food when reading… he never heard about anyone else seeing colors for personality traits, but the similarities were there. He also heard about another type of synesthesia, very similar to his other one but somehow very different altogether.
Mirror-touch synesthesia.
He read that people with this synesthesia type were able to feel the same sensation that another person felt, a prime example being touch. Meaning that if they see someone touching their face, they’d feel the same sensation on their own.
It certainly sounded plausible, with what he’d already known. Kim Rok Soo understood that. And yet, when it had happened…
Once, during primary school, he’d seen a bully slapping another kid. Judging from the loud sound and the kid falling down to the ground, it must’ve hurt a lot. However, it was at that moment that the cool gray that he’d felt suddenly turned into a sharp, burning yellow (it hurt, it hurt) in his cheek, sending him reeling throughout the day.
He hadn’t done anything. He’d just seen the boy getting slapped. So why…?
And then it happened again, and again, and again. He once saw a girl sitting in the park, her hands on her stomach, and harlequin green instantly burned in his stomach like acid. He once saw his coworker stubbing his toe, then felt the same burning yellow on his own. He once saw an old lady massaging her own arm, and felt the same dingy yellow (a dull, throbbing pain) affecting his own.
For someone like Kim Rok Soo, who detested pain, to physically feel another person’s pain…
It was ironic, to put it simply.
And now, even as Cale Henituse, it seemed like he couldn’t escape it.
How annoying , he scoffed to himself.
All the better for him to get a slacker life, a life where he nor the people around him was in pain.
So he ignored his rumbling stomach (so much for that delightful breakfast) and walked quickly until he reached the top of the small hill he was heading towards. His aim was a tree. Specifically, the tree with the hole that would lead him to get The Indestructible Shield, which will protect him.
“You can’t approach that t-tree!”
“You can’t go there! It’s a man-eating tree!”
Two voices - clearly young - were filled with indigo. The overwhelming purple was there, too, but the indigo was much more vivid. These voices were the only ones that had followed him from the slums all the way here.
Do they have nothing better to do? Cale ignored the kids and started taking out some bread from his massive bag. The owner of The Indestructible Shield had starved to death, and the tree had grown from their body. Cale had to settle their hunger, their gluttony, before he could get their power. Hence, the bread.
But before he could start the voices only grew in intensity and distance. Cale sighed.
There are always nosy punks no matter where you go.
A girl around 10 years old, holding onto her younger brother’s hand as they both stared at him, indigo and overwhelming purple still clear on their dirty faces. Past the aforementioned colors, the girl’s aura was a unique ash gray (as the big sister, he reckoned she had to stay mature for the sake of her brother), bruise purple and dark yellow (weariness) lurking underneath. The boy’s aura had similar bruise purple and dark yellow, but Cale could see a faint, suppressed carrot orange, as if the boy was trying hard to be a docile little brother and not the mischievous boy he probably was.
Cale didn’t know their story, and he didn’t care. He didn’t want to know.
The harlequin green in his stomach, having faded away by time and distance only to be brought back with a vigor by these kids’ presences, soured his mood even further.
“It’s a man-eating tree,” the girl stammered, pistachio making her stumble over her words. “You’re going to d- die.”
They must’ve been so concerned about him dying because he had a bag full of bread. He was almost tempted to say that perhaps it’d be better for them if he were to die; that way, they’d get all the bread for themselves. He didn’t. That would only cause their indigo to go wilder than it already was.
“I won’t die.” He tossed two wrapped pieces of bread towards the girl. “Take that and get lost.”
The boy hastily grabbed the bread, sunshine yellow (happy that he was able to eat today) bleeding through his aura, but the girl was still hesitant. Cale had never liked pistachio as a color, a feeling. So he was forced to use his identity.
“You two don’t know about Cale the Trash?”
He didn’t know if they truly knew Cale Henituse or not, but it didn’t matter, as the girl’s aura fluctuated with dark purple. The boy was oblivious to her reaction, but he still tugged her away, content with the free bread.
“You can’t die,” the girl still told him even as she was pulled away, and Cale couldn’t help but snort.
I can’t die, huh?
As if he was ever able to die. The girl was worrying over nothing.
“Let’s get started.”
And so he began feeding the tree. In the end, the one big bag of bread wasn’t enough, so he’ll have to make do with making more trips to the tree before getting the Ancient Power. Cale didn’t mind. If making a few more trips to the hill past the slums carrying bread granted him the ability to protect himself, then so be it.
Nothing else mattered as long as he could live.
He could see the two siblings eating the bread, sunshine yellow bright in their auras. Good. Now that their hunger was slightly elevated, he could look at them without the harlequin green making its presence known as much. He knew that they would do anything to get more food from him, so he told them to keep quiet about his actions. Obviously, it worked. The kids even pretended not to see him.
Cale smiled to himself, grass green washing over him, as he ignored the overwhelming purple filled gazes and went back to the tea shop.
It was time to sit idly until he had to confront the dangerous potentially immortal guy.
“I look forward to your next visit, young master.”
“The tea was great. And the book was good even though I only got through half of it.” Cale had always liked novels better than poetry. “I especially liked the main character whose abilities are appreciated and the way he grows.”
Cale wasn’t properly looking at Billos, then, indigo and orchid (more so of nervousness compared to anticipation) still thrumming inside him as he thought about Choi Han’s eventual arrival, so maybe he just saw it wrong, but… he could’ve sworn he saw Billos’ aura going through all sorts of shifts just then. First it was cloud gray, followed by traces of blue, before settling onto something akin to stone gray (as if he wasn’t sure what to make of the situation).
Weird, but as with everything too troublesome to ponder about, Cale ignored it.
“Don’t let anyone else read that book, so that I can read it whenever I come.”
This truly is the way of a trash-
“Yes! I will reserve this book only for young master Cale!”
…to be honest, Cale certainly didn’t expect Billos’ electric yellow (energetic) reply.
“Please come again soon.” Billos’ smile was genuinely orange this time. How odd. “I will be waiting for you.”
“Sure, whatever.”
Cale really didn’t want to go and meet Choi Han, but he actually had no choice. He needed to meet Choi Han so that Choi Han could meet Ron and Beacrox… preferably without Cale getting beaten up for it, of course. The plan was simple, really; meet Choi Han, give a good first impression, then lead him to meet the Molan father-son duo. In one way or another they’ll find out about each other’s strengths, settle their respective problems themselves and hopefully leave him alone afterwards. Literally .
Cale thought back on the iconic(?) trio as said in the novel and shuddered. Vicious people, all of them. He had no reason to keep such vicious people in his life. There’s no way he’ll get his slacker life otherwise.
He then got out of the tea shop and made his way towards a bar.
“Aigoo, young master, you’re here?”
Cale ignored the bar owner’s overwhelming purple filled greeting and just threw a gold coin at him. It was becoming abundantly clear to him that he can make people do anything for him using just a single gold coin. The perks of being a rich young master, really. “Bring a bottle of my usual. Oh, and roasted chicken breast. Don’t put salt on it.”
“Excuse me? Y- you don’t want to find a seat first?” The owner reacted the instant he saw Cale’s frown. “Immediately! I will bring it immediately!”
It was obvious - judging by the grass green - that the owner was satisfied that Cale wasn’t going to hang out at the bar. Cale looked around. Everyone else had their heads down, orchid and dark purple swimming in their auras. The gangsters and scammers in the bar had it worse; probably having flashbacks on when the old Cale would drunkenly throw bottles at them. Cale clicked his tongue. The Cale in the novel had never liked gangsters. The Kim Rok Soo turned Cale didn’t like them any more than the original did, but at least he knew better than to scare them away for no reason. It was too much work, anyways.
He quickly left the bar after having received his bottle and bag of chicken. There was no reason to remain there any longer. Not when he was literally on a timer.
At least the alcohol tasted good.
He speed-walked until he reached the tall city walls. Approximately 100 steps from the city gate. This was the spot where Choi Han had jumped over the city wall, as he wasn’t allowed entry during the day time thanks to the admittedly well-meaning city guards. Cale let his eyes adjust to the darkness as he slowly approached his destination.
There were multiple creatures curled underneath the city wall. He heard the pale blue (cold, cold, it’s so cold) filled mewls of the two cats, pathetically curling up as they shivered from the cold. Cale ignored the mirrored pale blue on his skin as he smiled.
It’s right here.
In the novel, Choi Han had hurt his ankle to avoid landing on a kitten. He really is a good guy. The poor guy had just killed tens of people for the first time and had to bury a village's worth of corpses, not to mention that he had to run like crazy to reach the city afterwards. And yet such a guy wanted to avoid hurting an animal if he could help it.
The cats pitifully mewled again, and Cale couldn’t stop the pale blue shivers this time. He hugged his coat tighter to himself as he turned towards a nearby alley. There was a guy sitting on the ground, wincing in pain because of-
Ah. Cale inhaled sharply as a flash of white (PAIN-) erupted in his ankle, followed by a much-detested burning yellow. Dammit, Choi Han, you bastard, you can handle this? No wonder he was the main character in [The Birth of a Hero]. He was sure that Choi Han heard him, but he still schooled his expression into cool gray as he carefully stood up, having crouched down despite himself to look at the cats.
Choi Han slowly raised his head, his gaze meeting Cale’s. This up close, Cale was able to clearly examine his aura. The cedar was gone, now, the light brown dull and faint (Cale frowned; he’d ignored the light brown the first time, as it was too troublesome). The drowning blue was still there, surrounding him like a vicious cloud, but it was less vivid compared to before, when Cale had first seen him. The black hadn’t disappeared at all, nor did it grow stronger. That was a good sign. Past that, engulfing his entire being, were black-tinted purple (anger born from despair), charcoal gray (a testament to his strength) and fiery red.
Cale suppressed a shiver. In the novel, provoking that black-tinted purple was what had led up to Cale getting the beating of a lifetime. He wasn’t going to do that here, obviously . He wasn’t suicidal, thank you. Choi Han stared at him. Cale ignored the fiery red and took a deep breath.
“You look like you’re hungry.”
He carefully crouched again to feed the cats-
-and nearly dropped the chicken he was holding.
Ah?
Two pairs of identical golden eyes, filled with bruise purple, stared at him. The cats were small and young- one was red, the other silver. And yet that wasn’t what had caught his attention.
No, rather, it was the kittens’ auras .
Ash gray, bruise purple and dark yellow for the silver kitten. Faint carrot orange, bruise purple and dark yellow for the red kitten. Harlequin green and pale blue that they felt reflected back to Cale.
An image of two certain children crossed Cale’s mind.
Perhaps?
Cale mentally sighed, awed.
Beast people? This early on?
It was shocking, to say the least, but Cale decided to push away this piece of information for now. It’s not important. He had to feed the kittens to get on Choi Han’s (fairly) good side. And if the harlequin green slowly dissipated as Cale fed the kittens? It was only a bonus.
Besides, he hated seeing children in pain. This was no different.
It took a while of talking until Choi Han finally replied.
“...Why are you talking to me?”
Cale ignored his question. He carefully limped over to Choi Han, trying not to make the burning yellow in his ankle too obvious- but he must've failed, as Choi Han’s eyes narrowed, lemon yellow and bruised purple and… even indigo? Huh. He really was a good guy.
In any case, Choi Han seemed to have decided that Cale was weak. That was good enough for him.
“Hey.” Cale couldn't help but smile; Choi Han’s Korean features were actually nice to see, here, in this European-styled fantasy world. “Follow me. I’ll feed you.”
The best first impression is to be the one who will feed the other. At least, that was what Cale - Kim Rok Soo - had always thought.
The red kitten tried to stop Cale before they left, rubbing its - his - cheek against Cale’s shoe. Cale frowned; he didn’t understand the kitten’s bubblegum (a hint of playfulness), but it clearly displeased the other silver kitten, judging by its - her - burgundy-coated hiss. Cale gave the red kitten a quick pet - he was admittedly quite cute, plus Choi Han was staring at him - before quickly leaving.
The burning yellow in his ankle hurt the longer he walked. Cale slowed down and frowned, before taking a glance at Choi Han. The black-haired’s deep purple (as if he had a feeling about something-) made him flinch. He definitely suspected something. Cale was too scared to find out what Choi Han would say if he speeded up, so he didn’t.
This burning yellow belonged to him anyways, not Cale.
Once they approached the Count’s estate, Choi Han stopped. Cale looked at the cloud gray and pistachio in the dude’s aura and threw a quick question. “Are you not going to come?”
Vermillion burst into Choi Han’s aura, then, as he made his decision and started walking again. Cale eyed him with a hint of cloud gray. Was that really necessary? Well, whatever. Choi Han clearly wanted to find out more about their city and host a mass funeral for the villagers of Harris Village. Cale wasn’t going to stop him.
Bruise purple filled the guards and knights once Cale came into view; however, lemon yellow followed once they turned to look at Choi Han. Cale ignored them as he led Choi Han towards the entrance of the estate, all sorts of colors swirling inside of him as he tried his best to keep cool gray on his expression.
He nearly faltered once he saw amber, blinding yellow and fiery red.
“Young master, you’re back.”
“...Yes, Ron.”
Overwhelming purple nearly gripped Cale, but he shook it off.
Actually, maybe this is for the better.
Ron’s amber smile stiffened when his gaze landed on Choi Han, after all.
But there was still one thing Cale needed to do.
“Young master, what is going on?” Ron asked when Cale continued leading Choi Han further into the estate. “I will take care of this guest if you tell me what is needed.”
“No need.”
Orange, light blue (friendliness) and coral pink (enthusiasm) approached them. Cale was familiar with this aura; had become used to it rather quickly, as it was the aura of the person responsible for him, other than Ron.
“Young master. You returned after drinking today.”
It was Hans, the deputy butler.
("I will be in charge of you from now on.”
“Great. Take good care of me.”
Bright yellow crossed Hans’ face at Cale’s cool gray reply, before coral pink took over.
“I will, young master.”)
Cale clicked his tongue and tried to hand the butler his bottle of alcohol, but-
“Aaack!”
…Is he really fitting to be a butler?
“Put this away,” Cale clicked his tongue again as Hans accepted the bottle, flush pink bright. “I will actually throw it at you next time.”
That got overwhelming purple to fill Hans again. Deciding to not care, Cale continued to march onwards towards the second kitchen. Orchid started to make his heart pound as he smiled, wondering how the meeting between chef and swordsman would go.
He almost regretted it once he threw open the kitchen door.
Beacrox’s electric yellow smile, while sharpening his blade no less , was not good for Cale’s health.
“Give him something to eat,” Cale blurted out before anyone could say anything, placing his hand on Choi Han’s shoulder, ignoring the flinch of cloud gray he felt at the touch.
“Excuse me?”
The same cloud gray filled Beacrox’s expression. Cale eyed the man’s aura with a hint of overwhelming purple; blinding yellow as expected, beige (reliable and conservative; funnily enough, Ron didn’t have it despite being equally reliable), onyx black and dark brown (stern). Right.
“Give him something to eat,” Cale gestured towards Choi Han. “He’s hungry.” Now that they’re without the two earlier kittens, Cale could feel Choi Han’s harlequin green better. Luckily it wasn’t as strong as the two kittens’, hence why he’d missed it, but it was there nonetheless.
Everyone’s auras tensed, and he even heard a gasp from the back. Regardless, Beacrox finally answered Cale’s order with an affirmative, despite his cloud gray and gray-tinged blue (perplexation).
The orchid Cale felt finally melted into periwinkle. It was done. He was so relieved that he completely ignored Beacrox’s (and by extension everyone’s) growing gray-tinged blue as he gave the chef an actual order for steak, leaving before Beacrox could reply.
Hans inquired about Choi Han, but Cale easily dismissed him, too. He didn’t want to deal with anything anymore for today. He was already way too exhausted, mentally and physically.
Which was why he ended up falling asleep the instant he collapsed on his bed, unaware of dinner never actually arriving, let alone the scuffle that three certain people fell into.