Chapter 7
Boy Towels
His next go-around, Sylas was smart; rather than walking out and trying to play a hero, he instead stayed back and waited until Boy had lived through the nightmare and everyone else had dispersed before stepping out and walking over to the library. He saw the young man huddled in a corner and he was crying. It was a low weep, like one of the heartbreak, and what added to the sadness was that he was stroking a book's lathery pages gently in the process.
"W-who's there?!" he barked out when he heard the sound of the approaching footsteps, shooting onto his feet and freezing when he saw Sylas. "Who are you? This place is off-limits for the guards!"
"… I sympathize," Sylas said with a bitter smile. His act was on already.
“H-huh?”
Sylas quickly fixed up a story that conveniently had similar beats to Boy's, in a somewhat obvious and child-like attempt to garner sympathy. Yet, from the Boy's increasingly pained expression, it seemed to work. Too well, perhaps.
“R-right, yes! Finally… finally someone who understands,” Boy walked over immediately, entirely unsuspecting like a naïve little child. “Someone who understands my pain.” He extended his arms and gave Sylas a wide hug. The latter put on an odd look for a moment before hugging the young man back; he expected a bit of resistance to the manipulation, but it was clear that just because someone was a bookworm hardly meant they were any cleverer than an uneducated shepherd. “Are you… are you okay now? Luckily, their physical touch only ever stayed over my clothes. I… I can’t imagine what I would have done if I had lived through what you had.”
“… I’m… better,” Sylas continued. “I’m still terrified of the woman’s touch—even the love of my life, Irene, left me because every time she tried to touch me… I’d begin screaming and thrashing away at her. And now I’m alone. Alone in this cruel world.”
“You are not alone!” Boy exclaimed. “I… I may not be able to replace the love of your life, but I will be your friend! If you ever need someone to talk to and pour out your heart to… you can always come to me, no matter the time of the day.” Sylas, listening to the young man, was touched; he couldn’t remember the last time he encountered a genuinely decent person in his life. Granted, his lifestyle hardly afforded itself to meeting those types, but still. For someone to unconditionally offer their support to a complete stranger they’d just met… it either spoke of the grave naivety or a heart so broad it had no bounds.
“Thank you. What’s your name?”
“Boy Towels. Yours?”
“Sylas… just Sylas,” he said. “It’s good to meet a kindred spirit, Boy. You have lots of books here!” seeing his opportunity, and having already latched onto Boy’s weakness, Sylas swiftly changed the topic.
“Yes!” with the changed subject, Boy’s persona seemed to entirely shift from that of a wet dog to one in absolute excitement. “This is the castle’s library! Though it’s tiny and rough and lacking in books when compared to the Kingdom’s other major libraries… to me, it’s wonderful.”
“Wow!” Sylas exclaimed softly. “I always wanted to read but… nobody ever taught me, I’m afraid. Every time I’d hear other kids talk about some tale they’ve read in a book, I’d think, ‘ah, I wish I could do that too…’…”
“Y-you can’t read?” tears coalesced in Boy’s eyes as he, once again, spearheaded forward and hugged Sylas. “You have suffered! Truly, truly suffered! Fear not, Sylas,” he added. “Even if I have to abstain from my duties, I promise you… I’ll teach you how to read! And write! And I’ll teach you everything you want to learn!”
“Really? Even history?!” seeing the potential, Sylas immediately latched onto it. “I’ve always been interested in it but never had anyone to learn from.”
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“Yes, history! I love history! You like history too?!" as though he'd finally met his soulmate, Boy's eyes began shining like resplendent stars in the sky.
“Y-yes,” by now, Sylas was a bit afraid. Luckily, however, the next day would never come, and Boy would forget all about the soulful friend he’d made. Yes, luckily.
“Wonderful! Ah, history is grand,” Boy said, excitedly rushing over to one of the wooden shelves attached to the cold wall of stone and pulling out a rather thick and dusty tome. “This here is, in my humble opinion, one of the greatest historias ever written. It was inked by the late Grandmaster Lech and it covers the Kingdom’s entire history, all the way until the Great Queen Alisha’s Epoch. Most people try to discredit him because he aligned himself with Prince Eydun during the Second War of Succession, but what do a man’s political aspirations have with the history he’s written?
“Granted, it is a bit detailed and thick, but that’s what history is—you can’t simplify it like other, more popular Grandmasters do! Did you know that Grandmaster Edwin II covers the entirety of Uskash Rebellion in six pages? SIX pages! Forty years of constant strife, warfare, and injustices summarized in a six-pages-piece-puff! Shameful! Absolutely shameful! On the other hand, Grandmaster Lech dedicated an entire section of the historia just to the rebellion! Four whole chapters! He gave the backstory to the rebellion—since it didn’t just happen out of nowhere—and means and ways in it which permanently changed our Kingdom. Aah, sorry—I tend to babble, I know. Apologies. You must know this, after all.”
“…” Sylas stared blankly. It wasn’t that the information he’d gotten was complex—in fact, it was very much in line with many of the historical events back on Earth—but that he’d obtained it so… easily. Of course, the information was very much out of date, but it seemed like it wasn’t as big of a guarded secret as he feared—it wasn’t like on Earth during the pre-Enlightenment where all histories, and almost all literature, really, were being written by the Clergy and were deftly guarded.
“Y-you… you don’t?” Boy, on the other hand, took Sylas’ blank state as confusion, prompting yet another brief session of crying and hugging on the man’s part. “Just… did… did you receive any education?”
“I… khm, I was taught how to milk and herd cattle,” Sylas quickly made up a lie. “And a little bit how to swing a sword though I never took to it. It was the reason why my father would repeatedly beat me senseless, trying to ‘make me a man’.” Sylas’ “backstory” kept growing darker and darker—in fact, it was a bit too tailored of a sob story to the point that almost anyone on Earth would have long since given him a stink eye and ignored him completely. Boy, on the other hand… boy did he ever buy it.
“Dear God! You… your life… aah,” he hugged Sylas yet again and cried. This time around, though, the hug was tighter and lasted longer. Did I push it too far? "Don't worry. I… I may not be an amazing man myself, but I will teach you everything I know. I—I may not have much, but here," he suddenly hurried off to the singular desk and reached into the drawer. A moment later, the clanking of the coins shimmered the silence as Boy pulled out a small handful of silver-shining pieces, carrying them over to Sylas and pushing them toward him. "This is fourteen silver pieces. If… if you’d only come yesterday, I would have had more. Take it—I don’t care where you spend it, just promise me you’ll keep coming back so I can teach you.”
“… keep your coins, Boy,” Sylas smiled gently and closed the young man’s hand. “Your support and friendship are worth far more than some partly shine.”
If eyes could be lighthouses and beacons, the young man’s would have been the brightest at that moment. Boy’s hands began shaking and coins began dripping down like rain, clanking against the stoned floor. Snot soon followed the tears and if anyone from the side could see the scene, they’d no doubt believe Sylas was outright torturing the young lad. Alas…
Sylas flinched, his ears perking up. Over the past many-a-lives in the castle, he’d attuned a keen sense of hearing for the Ghoulish noises—and he was picking them up now, and they were approaching. It was time, he knew. Time to bid Boy farewell as well as their current reality. At least, the day was productive; he’d be able to easily replicate it and get more information. The problem was the timeframe—he’d have to adjust how much he knew for each restart and his pity points would likely keep dropping. Then again, that was for the future Sylas to figure out.
“Hm? What is that sound?” Boy asked sheepishly.
“Go hide in the corner,” Sylas said, sighing, a sour feeling surging within him. Somehow… he didn’t want to say goodbye. Not just yet, anyway. “And wait for it all to pass.”
“For what to pass? Sylas? Where are you going?” Sylas could still hear the soft calls of the young man as he tossed himself into the Ghoulish arms, ending yet another timeline.
“On your feet, maggot!” he didn’t quite feel like getting up immediately though. It was… warmth. The feeling of being accepted and acknowledged and recognized without any ulterior motives. It was entirely unfamiliar and yet his pitiful brain craved it as much as it craved food.
I still have to save him, he mused inwardly. And since I know all his trigger points, it will be easy. Yeah. Anyway, onto the future victories…