The Charlatan: Transfer Student III
OOC: So, I seem to be in the mood to put you through the mill this afternoon, dear reader. My apologies for that in advance.
I hope to be especially busy today, so I hope this will tide you folks over until I post other things. Anyway... I’ve talked enough, I think.
Let us start the game together, shall we? Please indulge yourself, my dear customer. Enjoy. ☕
Part 2 is here. https://thehuggamugcafe.tumblr.com/post/174898453922/the-charlatan-transfer-student-ii
No sooner had the barely-there smile touched his lips, it was gone, replaced by a frown as his brows pinched the slant of his gray eyes.
“Have you been told? A customer of mine and your parents know each other, and—”
Sojiro stopped in the midst of his spiel, breathing a sigh. Quietly, going by the irritated look in his eyes, the annoyed scowl that pinched his lightly aged face, he seemed to view it as too much of a hassle to explain himself to you.
You couldn’t help but silently wonder why he was so distant with others, but you knew better than to push your luck by voicing your curiosity. Sojiro Sakura was your caretaker for the next year, and if you so much as toed the invisible line, or worse crossed it, he would throw you out and you knew where you’d end up. A cell in juvie hall.
“Well, not that that matters. Follow me.”
You waited until his back was turned and he began walking until, finally, you decided that following his example was a good idea. Halfway up the stairs to a somewhat spacious attic, a question rolled off of your tongue and past your lips before you could stop yourself.
“Um, excuse me... There were a lot of police officers on my way here. Did something happen? Was there an accident, maybe?”
“Huh?”
Sojiro stopped on the staircase, eyeing you critically for a few moments before he breathed an all too familiar sigh, one of mild frustration.
“Police officers...? Accident...? It’s not my business, and it’s not yours either, kid.”
It was as though answering you wasn’t worth his time, and again, you couldn’t help but be reminded of how distant, how cold his attitude was. Your first impression of him wasn’t helped by the fact that he called you a kid, either.
When you ascended the final step, your (e/c) gaze quietly took in the sight of the attic as Sojiro proclaimed, “This is your room.”
A dusty wooden shelf was on your left, right next to the staircase landing, filled with bags of what you assumed to be old belongings. You made a mental note to try to avoid from tripping over it in the morning from now on. Bulky trash bags, a ladder, a potted plant, a small heater, a few empty plastic containers, cardboard boxes that were taped shut, a fan covered in cobwebs, and a shelf littered with musty old books cluttered the left-hand side of the room. An old work bench sat in one corner of the room, directly across from an old mattress with a (f/c) sleeping bag, clustered with old books and covered by a plastic sheet.
Next to the workstation, there was an old couch, and next to the couch were more old books on top of and underneath the rickety-looking table. You spotted more cardboard boxes that were taped shut, two laundry baskets, raggedy-looking cloths that hung from the lines that dangled from the attic beams, and a dim yellow white fluorescent glow shone from a few lit light bulbs. Lastly, your eyes landed on a box set in the middle of the attic room, your room for the next year, and you knew it was your belongings from home.
You glanced back at Sojiro as he addressed you with a stern-sounding “hey,” and a look to match.
“Are you listening?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.” He paused to raise a hand, rubbing the back of his neck as he sighed. “I’ll at least give you sheets for your bed.”
The lukewarm stare he gave you caused a chill to dance up and down your spine. You felt very much like a child expecting to be scolded by his or her parent, and you felt like you were walking on egg shells. It was looking more and more like the next year would be... difficult with Sojiro Sakura, to say the least.
“Hm? You look like you want to say something.”
“...It’s big,” you muttered, casting one last glance around the attic.
“It’s on you to clean up the rest. I’ll leave after locking up each day. You’ll be alone at night, but don’t do anything stupid. I’ll throw you out if you cause any trouble.”
You opened your mouth to thank him, but his voice—and the no-nonsense stare he had—stopped you from speaking so much as a word.
“Now then... I got the gist of your situation: You protected some woman from a man forcing himself on her, he got injured, then sued you. Right? That’s what you get for sticking your nose in a matter between two adults. You did injure him, yeah?”
Sojiro paused, breathing a sigh through pursed lips as he stared at you, long and hard. “I guess appearances aren’t everything.”
You swallowed a gulp, a mound of saliva that felt like it was the size of a tennis ball. Instinctively, you felt a hand curling to a fist, a fist that shook, trembled with irritation as your eyes hardened.
“W-Wait a minute, that was all just a... I... I mean that I—”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
Sojiro abruptly cut you off with both a stare that cut through you like a hot knife through butter, and sharp words that rolled off of his tongue.
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention this to anyone. I am in the restaurant business, you know. Anyway,” he paused, withdrawing a cigarette package from one of the pockets of his barista apron.
The flap was opened, and a faint hint of raisin made itself known to you as a tobacco-stuffed cigarette was removed. The middle-aged man put it between his lips as he took out a lighter, and with a flick of his thumb, a small reddish orange flame danced on the windscreen. The small flame touched the end of the cigarette, and soon, a huff of gray smoke was breathed into your face.
“And now that you’ve got a criminal record, you were expelled from your high school. The courts ordered you to transfer and move out here, which your parents also approved. In other words,” he paused, his lips curling as he smiled, but it wasn’t a pleasant smile, “they got rid of you for being a pain in the ass.”
He breathed a second huff of smoke, watching your expression as the gray white smog filtered by you, around you, and wafted throughout the dusty attic.
“Behave yourself for the year. If nothing happens, your probation will be lifted.”
“...A whole year,” you muttered, more to yourself than to your caretaker.
“Your sentence lasts until next spring, right? That’s why you’re gonna be here for the coming year. Cause any problems, and you’ll be sent straight to juvie.”
The middle-aged barista crushed the smouldering butt of his cigarette into the edge of the shelf on the left of where you both stood.
“We’ll be going to Shujin tomorrow.”
“...Shujin?” you asked, blinking owlishly.
“Shujin Academy—the school you’ll be attending. We’ll introduce ourselves properly to the staff there. There’s rarely a place that will accept someone like you, you know.”
By someone like me, he means someone with a criminal record, even if it is a false charge!
You said nothing, deciding it was wise to bite the inside of your cheek for the time being.
“...Yes, sir,” you replied, your soft words earning a quiet, long winded sigh from Sojiro.
“What a waste of my Sunday... Your luggage arrived earlier; I left it over there.”
Your eyes fell on the cardboard box that was just behind him, nodding once.
“...I’ll leave it to you then, kid. Oh, and you heard what I said, didn’t you? Cause me any grief, and I’ll toss you out onto the streets like the troublemaker you are. Got it?”
“...Yes, sir. I understand.”
“Good. Make sure to go to bed early. I won’t be the one looking after you if you get sick because you stayed up too late.”
“...Yes, sir. Good night.”
You watched as Sojiro turned on his heels, the soles of his white shoes clicking as he descended the attic stairs. Your eyes did a slow, thorough sweep of the attic, breathing a sigh as you set your schoolbag on a table on the right-hand side of the attic stairs.
“This is gonna take me a while...”
It took some time, but finally, you collapsed on what was to be your bed for the next year, your hands resting on your interlocked palms, fingers linked together. The lumpy mattress shifted, quietly groaning in protest as your weight was added to it. By the time you had finished cleaning the attic that probably hadn’t seen a feather duster in years, it was early evening. The distant caws of a crow reached you through the rickety window that blew a cool, crisp spring breeze into the room through a crack in the opening, whispering across your face as you breathed a sigh.
Your (e/c) gaze stared up into the ceiling, lazily eyeing the support beams as thoughts rushed through your mind.
Arrest... Trial... Criminal record...
The inebriated voice of that man hissed its way into your head, like a snake winding its way through grass. It was as prevalent as it always was when you thought back to that night. You could still remember the way he glared at you, eyes bloodshot and cheeks flushed with intoxication, pressing a hand to his head injury as he spat angrily at you.
“You little bitch... I’ll sue!”
Back then... On that evening... I wasn’t in the wrong. I know I did the right thing.
That was what you told yourself over and over again, but it was a sobering comfort, albeit a bittersweet one. You helped a woman who was in clear need of aid, and what had you gotten in return as thanks?
A slap to the face and angry words, courtesy of your mother.
The sneering lips and haughty stare of your older sister.
The wide, watery eyes and worried glances of your little brother.
The quiet, concerned stare of your father, softly whispering assurances that everything would be okay in the end.
Your friends abandoning you.
Your classmates and the faculty staff eyeing you critically, as though you weren’t the person they once knew anymore.
Your high school expulsion.
Your false criminal record.
Being labelled as a delinquent, a no-good problem child, and on top of everything else, you would be stuck in Tokyo for a whole year.
Still, I couldn’t just let that go.
You remembered you had to go home early on that day. Your father had called, saying your grandfather had been hospitalized for a sudden heart attack, and your cram school teacher had given you the green light to leave early.
“Just get in the car!”
You remembered stopping, flicking a glance down a separate street, pursing your lips as you paused, listening.
“Stop it!”
“How dare you cross me...!”
You moved instinctively, but not away from the sound of quarrelling voices, no.
You moved to where they were coming from.
“Stop it! Let me go!”
The closer you approached, the more clear their voices were. It was a man and a woman, the latter being grappled by the former as the man snarled intoxicated words at the woman, his words slurring noticeably.
“No!”
You remembered the way the woman struggling, doing her best to get away from the man, but for every inch she tried to get away from him, the closer he yanked her back to him with a large, masculine hand wrapped around her forearm.
“Don’t give me that shit...”
“Ow! P-Please, stop!”
She’s in danger. I have to save her!
You remembered how your heels clicked over the asphalt, your schoolbag bumping against your clothed back as you jogged closer. The driver-side door of a car was left open, a car which you assumed was the man’s vehicle, ready to shove the helpless woman inside at any moment.
“Tch... What a waste of time. You think you’re worth causing me trouble? Huh?”
“I-I’ll call the police!”
“Heh, call them if you want! The police are my bitches. They’re not gonna take you seriously.”
“No... Stop...”
The distant wailing of police sirens made you look up the street, and so did the drunken man. He clicked his tongue in clear annoyance.
“Someone called the cops, huh? Get in the car! Incompetent fools like you just need to shut your mouths and follow where I steer this country!”
Suddenly, the hairs raised on the back of your neck as the woman’s eyes fell on you, and the man followed to where she was staring, honing his gaze on you.
“What’re you looking at? Get outta my face!”
You didn’t move. You couldn’t move. You watched as the man took a few steps, his balance was questionable as his eyes leered at you through the orange-coloured lenses of the glasses that sat upon his nose.
“This ain’t a show! Get lost, missy!”
Turning back to glare at the woman over his shoulder, his voice spoke volumes of the irritation he felt.
“See? This is all because you’re so damn slow! Get in the car!”
In the here-and-now, you felt a hand curling to a tight, white-knuckled fist. Your jaw became set as your lips pursed, your brows pinched the slant of your eyes as you stared—no, glared—up at the ceiling.
You breathed a huff and a sour mutter of, “That scumbag,” feeling your eyes sliding shut. You were in the throes of dozing off—that is, until the be-be-beep of your phone pulled you free from the attempt of falling asleep.
You hummed as you withdrew your cellphone from the pocket of your cotton pyjama pants, blinking as your eyes fell on a familiar red and black icon that took the shape of an eye.
It’s that weird app again. Your eyes focused on it, sensing a dizzying spell of feeling lightheaded gripping a hold of you, washing over you. It was slow, gentle, but potent simultaneously, lulling you into a sense of security, of warmth.
“That’s... weird. I deleted it this afternoon. It’s so creepy,” you mumbled, blinking your heavy eyes.
You tried, you honestly and truly tried to resist, but your eyes slid shut, and you fell into the welcoming abyss of unconsciousness.
The clanking of shackles yanked you to full alertness, breathing a shallow gasp as your eyes shot open. Groggy, your eyes watched as a chain lazily swung back and forth, the chilling sound of metal hitting a padded wall resulted in a powerful chill to worm up and down your spine, a shudder that shook your shoulders. The soft but steady noise of water dripping into a toilet was heard directly across from you, echoing all around wherever it was that you resided now.
Wherever this place was, you knew one thing for certain.
This isn’t Leblanc’s attic.
The feeling of cold metal surrounding your wrists, the telltale sound of chains clinking together made you look down, and a similar sensation of icy steel circling your calves earned a second, more thorough glance at yourself. Your quiet suspicions were confirmed; your hands and ankles sported thick metal shackles. Moreover, you wore a white and black striped prisoner’s uniform, clothing that was strangely complimented by the simple pair of raggedy sneakers you wore.
The lumpy mattress you sat on shifted as you tossed your feet on the floor, the worn footwear scuffing over the floor as the soles made contact. You drew in a breath as he sat, back curved as you pressed a hand to your head, trying to assess the situation.
Where am I? How did I get here? Is this a dream?
A soft snicker caught your attention, and you blinked, your head pointing an askance on the cell door. A smirk curled the lips of the noiret, standing at around 5’11’’, the warm onyx iris of his right eye observing you. He wore a standard warden’s uniform. A crisp blue shirt and a black tie, black dress pants covered his legs, and black dress shoes shone with a mirror polish. Finally, a warden’s cap sat atop his head, bearing a golden V, and the black eyepatch that covered his right eye also bore a golden V as he breathed a second chuckle. It was a noise that was surprisingly pleasant to hear, but...
You watched as he shifted, making way for a carbon copy of himself. This young man appeared to be just like him. The same frizzy black hair, the same onyx iris that coolly eyed you, the same clothing, the same eyepatch covered his left eye, but unlike his look-a-like, he seemed to be more stand-offish, more level-headed. The two noiret, obsidian-eyed wardens shifted, turning sideways as your gaze fell on a rather... odd-looking man.
The first thing you took notice of was his abnormally long nose, and how his wide, bloodshot eyes ogled you in silence. He was dressed in a way that reminded you of a butler, or perhaps a servant of a higher being. A crisp black tailcoat, a white shirt, a black tie, black leggings, and black dress shoes. A grin eternally pulled at his lips as he raised a hand covered by a white glove, appearing to greet you.
For a moment, and only a moment, silence prevailed where you lingered, but finally, the man spoke.
“Trickster... Welcome to my Velvet Room.”