"You boys can stay here for the night," Aaric Langhorne said, pointing to the tiny spare room that looked more like a forgotten storage room than anything.
Heon stepped inside first, coughing a mere second later at the stale and stinky air. Sunny shoved him aside, marching inside as if he owned it and plopped himself on the thin mattress. He wiggled and made himself comfortable.
Looking back, the bald, old man smiled apologetically. "Sorry for the lack of hospitality. You came unannounce while the other rooms are occupied."
The boy with white-streaked hair turned to the earth mage. "What about you?"
"Don't worry, there's another spare room available," Aaric answered for her. "You don't think I'd let the princess share a room with two boys I just met, do you?"
That word again. "Princess?"
He didn't know whether it was a term of endearment or an inside joke between them, but Heon felt the need to ask about it. Internally, he prayed that Aaric wasn't an old man who liked the too-young type of girl.
Shudders ran through his body at the thought alone.
"What did I say about calling me that?" Azran mumbled, crossing her hands and pouting. "I'm no princess."
"Whatever you say, my princess." Aaric clearly teased her. Much to Azran's apparent distaste and Heon's awkwardness.
"Sleep while you can. We'll plan our next move tomorrow."
With that, the green-haired girl retreated with the old man, and Heon went inside the stale, stinky room. There was only one bed – mattress, to be exact. Occupied by the blond, he decided to just let leave him to have it. Looking around the room, he found a blanket, ratty and most likely wasn't even washed for a year or so. He used it to wipe the dusty floor.
Satisfied that the floor wasn't as dirty as before, he lay there.
Sleep didn't come easy.
His mind was plagued by the thoughts of what had happened, what was happening, and what would happen later.
The kingslayer, they said?
What ridiculous bullshit.
If this world's version of himself was truly the kingslayer, then he could just shove it all in his ass and die.
He was dragged into this mess by an unknown person, who turned out to be an evil mage cursed with immortality. If that cloaked figure wanted him to retrieve the King's crown – that Aaric guessed to be one of the Keys to release the Great End.
Being stuck in this world where the entire kingdom wanted his death wasn't fun at all. Heon should have stayed on his train and stopped lamenting about his parents' tough decisions regarding his future.
If he could come back immediately without any harm, he'd be the son they always wanted and do whatever they asked him to.
Either way, he was here now.
Here, lying awake in the stale, stinky room with a manic boy who murdered people like it was nothing. It should be Sunny, who they declared as the kingslayer. Not him.
Huffing, Heon shifted on the floor and lay on his side, facing the wall that was covered with broken furniture and spider webs. He closed his eyes, willing sleep to come to claim him.
"Long time no see."
Brown eyes shot open.
Instead of lying in the dingy, dark room, he was suddenly sitting on the hard seat of the moving train he used to commute to school.
"The fuck."
"Ah, ah, ah. I left you a few days there and you use foul language now? What would your mother say, Heon Lightwalker?"
Hearing that gruff voice that signed the person hadn't spoken for days, Heon turned his head to the side.
"I see that you have missed me." A figure shrouded in a dark cloak said, sending chills through his body yet igniting hatred in his chest.
"You," he faltered, catching sight of the familiar figure – the cause of all of this messy chaos.
Heon shot up and charged with a closed fist. The cloaked figure leaped back, easily dodging his poor attack with one move. Not giving up, the boy, who was trapped in another world, charged again. This time, he used his left hand. A foolish move, considering it wasn't his main hand, so the power wouldn't be much.
Of course, considering that both attacks didn't touch the cloaked figure, it wouldn't matter either way.
He got a laugh in response.
Eyes clouded in rage, Heon growled and blindly punched the air, hoping he would hurt the figure anyway.
"Easy, boy," the cloaked figure chuckled. A scratching voice that grazed annoyingly against his ears. "I just want to talk. No need to throw your limited energy away."
"Shut up, bastard!"
Again, Heon used this opportunity to launch an attack. A measly punch and an experimental kick. Both failed. Unsurprisingly.
"Now, now, what did I say about taking it easy?"
A second later, black tendrils appeared from the moving train's floor. They instantly wrapped themselves around his body. Shocked, Heon couldn't dodge and move away.
"Let me go!"
His struggle was in vain. The tendrils around his body tightened, almost suffocating him. Both of his arms weren't strong enough to wriggle out of it. Let alone his dangling feet.
"Let me fucking go!"
"No." The cloaked figure said. "I will not let you go, unless you promise to behave nicely."
"Go fuck yourself!"
"Really? Is that all you want to say to your old friend?" The dark-cloaked figure said, looking at him from under cover of his hood.
"I can list all of foul words to say to you if that's what you want to hear."
"No, thank you. Let us use this precious moment to talk, how does that sound?"
Heon bristled tight fists by his side. "Talk? That's rich, coming from you."
The cloaked figure's shoulder shook, silently laughing at him. "Did I not say it earlier? I will bring you back to your own world after you retrive my key to me."
"The artefact you want," he didn't beat around the bush. "It's the King's crown, right?"
"The King's crown? That's not it."
"No?"
"The key I want is the Drifting Dragon's Tear."