During painting lessons the instructor and other students were too afraid of Cadell, him being a scythe and his physical appearance, to really talk to him. They never gave honest feedback on his work, like everything else Cadell attempted. The last day of the class had them all sitting outside, with all the current classes together.

Cadell had all but decided to give up on yet another attempt at finding joy, as the instructor carefully backed away after telling Cadell just how splendid his current work had been.

Frowning, Cadell stared at the rugged edges of the, supposed to be smooth, celestial body he had attempted at painting.

Lady Sylvia, you were wrong. It seems that I indeed am a Scythe every sec-.

“You’re pressing too hard,” a gentle yet firm voice sounded out behind him.

The tension in the room thickened as the rest of the students took a collective breath. The squeal of chair legs on marble flooring was the only sound heard as Cadell slowly turned his body to face the speaker. He opened his mouth to get further details on what exactly she meant but he was left speechless. 

An elegant young woman, mid 20’s at most, with long blonde hair tied up in a ponytail was looking at him. No, not at him, past him. Directly at his painting. 

Having realized he had been staring at her for far too long, he averted his gaze and tried to ask with as calm a voice as he could muster, “What do you mean?” 

Unexpectedly, instead of answering she walked right up next to him and reached for the brush in his hand. A pleasant scent of freshly baked bread and snow filled his senses. She took the brush and tilted her head slightly, causing her ponytail to dance in the beams of sunlight peaking into the room. 

“Your job is simply to guide the brush around, not control it. If you want perfection..” she turned to look at him. Her eyes widening, not realizing how close she had been and backed away slightly. 

She awkwardly swept her gaze back to the canvas. “Imperfections are chapters in the story that is your canvas. You have to let the mistakes happen to truly see the beauty in it. A story with no substance would be really sad.”

This is the most Cadell had been talked to by a lesser, ever. But for some reason he didn’t want her to stop. There was something about her that seemed to tingle his mana core. To his delight she kept talking with him. 

“I am curious about something though,” she seemed to ponder her next words. “You’re a Scythe, right?” 

Oh, she was unaware. That explains the conversation. 

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Cadell prepared himself for the inevitable kowtowing that would take place the moment he answered. 

“Yes,” he solemnly answered. 

To his complete surprise he found her looking back at him with an expression he had never seen before. She asked with a palpable curiosity in her voice, “that means you can fly, right?” 

Cadell simply nodded, unsure of where this was going. The woman looked back at the painting, her eyebrows creasing. 

“Then why are you painting a view everyone can see?” 

The look of confusion on Cadell’s face must have been evident because she let out another giggle, startling him. 

“The view you get, way up there in the sky. Above the clouds and creatures living down below. It must be breathtaking.” 

Cadell hadn’t thought so. Ever since he had become a Retainer, then inevitably a Scythe, the color of the world had been drowned out by all the blood he was forced to spill. 

Looking down at his hands, all he saw was blood dripping off his fingers onto the pristine marble at his feet, staining it forever. When was the last time he had considered something breathtaking? His eyes immediately traveled to her. She was looking at his hands as well. 

Did she know? Will she run away in fear if she did? She kneeled down and actually took one of his hands in hers. Cadell fought the urge to rip his hand away, not out of disgust, but because he didn’t want any blood to get on her. When she looked up at him, his heart nearly stopped. 

Her rosy eyes were glistening from the beginning of tears. 

She spoke so quietly it couldn’t be called a whisper,  “The individual chapters don’t define your whole story.” 

Cadell whispered back a single unfinished question, “Why?” 

With a sad smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, she said, “because I used to have that look in my eyes as well.”

“Thank you,” Cadell whispered, unsure what these sensations could mean. 

She replied only with a warm smile and turned to leave. Cadell watched her as she left, enjoying the remnants of her scent that were starting to fade. The more it faded the more Cadell started to feel a sort of panic in his chest. He wanted her to remain, even just a second longer was enough. He didn’t know why, but he felt that some of the color had returned while she was with him.

“Do..” he started. 

She halted as if hoping he’d say something. 

“D-do you want me to show you?” He asked, unable to bring himself to look at her. 

“I’d like that,” the warmth of her voice flowed through Cadell’s body. 

He heard her open the door to leave and listened to her steps echo away into the hallway until they suddenly stopped. Rapid steps grew louder until she burst through the door, panting slightly. 

“I live at my bakery about 14 streets south of here, I close shop a little after sunset everyday. I forgot to tell you.” 

Without waiting for a reply she ran down the hallway, leaving confused looks on the faces of everyone she passed.

Cadell watched the doorway the woman had left though, his lips fighting to form a smile. Only then did he notice the silence that still lingered in the room. Everyone was looking at him with expressions of shock, as if they were doubting what they just witnessed. He quickly spun around on the chair to face away from them. A burning warmth engulfed his face, he could have sworn even his horns were turning red.