a Lout and a Prince

Part 22

Luck came to those who were willing to work for it. Although, it was more likely to abandon and ignore those who strove for it with a maniacal grin of a true sadist. That was why it was best to take luck by the neck and choke it into submission before effectively making it your bitch.

Roksu had plenty of bad luck in his life and he wasn't superstitious enough to really consider good luck or bad luck into his calculations. He'd lived this far by never letting 'luck' slip through his fingers, bad or good. Bad luck could always be saved up to throw away strategically at a person who deserves a bit of bad luck.

Cale Henituse was the perfect example of good and bad luck all in one. On one hand, the windfall of money that came from the gullible nobleman was definitely worthwhile. On the other hand, the day that Roksu could wave goodbye to the drunkard and his terrifying butler couldn't come sooner.

Roksu found a happy medium where he conned–sold as much as possible from the crazy punk while doing his best to avoid the creepy butler.

Roksu frowned as he organized the liquor shelves. As much as he liked being able to sell them for significantly marked up costs, it was starting to become legitimately concerning just how much of their stores were consumed by just one guy.

Roksu wanted to make bank, he didn't want to be responsible for some nobleman literally drinking himself to death.

Arms wrapped smoothly around his waist and a family chin rested on his shoulder. "What's worrying you?"

Roksu leaned into the hug with a sigh. "I don't want to get involved." He grumbled.

Choi Han chuckled. "But you're going to?" His voice held just a hint of teasing and Roksu swatted him gently in complaint.

Roksu had been born and raised in Harris Village with quite a few unfortunate incidents of bad luck scaring his childhood and even his life beyond that. Choi Han would be the one real strike of good luck in his entire life. But that was a different story.

In the years they'd been together, Choi Han knew his partner well enough to know that Roksu couldn't help being a busybody, despite his protests otherwise. He kissed Roksu's temple. "Just let me know if you need support."

Roksu smiled. Moments like this he really felt like a lucky bastard. Anyone who had a vicious punk like Han on their side was doing well indeed.

"I'll be fine." He said, disentangling himself as he grabbed down the most watered down wine on the shelf and made his way towards the lobby where Cale Henituse was slouched nearly unconscious on a chair and dangling from a table gracelessly.

Roksu placed the bottle between them, waking Cale up with the sound. "Let's drink, dear customer."

"...the fuck...?" Cale murmured, looking towards Roksu with confused and irritated eyes. "Just leave the fucking drink and fuck off."

Roksu pointedly didn't do so, uncorking the wine with practiced ease and pouring out two glasses. Purposefully and obviously pouring less in Cale's glass.

"...I'm not paying for that bottle." Cale said grouchily but Roksu was confident he would. It was good that the scary butler was off on errands because Roksu didn't really fancy getting tangled up in this mess under his watch.

"What brings you to Harris Village?" Roksu asked, entirely ignoring Cale's complaints.

Cale squinted at him. "To burn this shitty place to the fucking ground. Fuck you."

Roksu hoped that Choi Han had made himself scarce. He tended to take threats to his hard-won home quite personally even if they were made by a pathetic drunkard. "Seems like you're running from something." Roksu pointed out and watched the man flinch and sink into the table miserably.

"...is not fair..." Cale hid his face in his arms. "I want simple shit too."

"Simple shit?" Roksu didn't particularly want to know or care what Cale was going on about but whatever would keep him from having to bury his alcohol drowned corpse out back.

"...love and shit... why's it simple for you... asshole..."

Roksu raised an eyebrow at the assertion but he caught onto the source of the man's misery easily enough. It honestly surprised him how stereotypical his concerns were. Was there an older cliche than a man drinking himself to death over lost love? Roksu was almost disappointed, he'd somehow expected something more interesting.

"Does it have to be simple?" He asked, figuring he'd just listen to his love woes until he exhausted himself.

"I just want to know if he lied..." Cale looked up at Roksu miserably. "...if he lied, it's over... it was never anything to begin with." He let out a wretched laugh. "He never fucking cared."

Ah, good old catastrophizing. The best friend of all heartbroken drunks. Roksu knew better than to argue back. "He didn't care then."

Cale's eyes flashed and he sat up sharply, glaring at Roksu. "Fuck you! What do you know?!"

"Only what you've told me." Roksu replied flatly.

"Well you don't know shit! He–"

Cale swallowed.

It really felt like Bob cared. It felt like the love was mutual. It felt like Bob wanted him as deeply as he wanted him.

The way that Bob always checked in about every little thing and looked at him like he was a treasure. Caressed his face and told him he was lovely, held him close and smiled against his lips. It felt so real. It was upsetting for anyone to say it was fake.

Illogical burned in his drunken heart and he glared ferociously at the opponent that had offered himself as a sacrifice to Cale's rage.

Roksu didn't give him anything to work off of though.

"So he did care." He said.

Cale ground his teeth. "I–... I don't know."

Roksu let out a scoff and plucked the untouched wine glass from in front of Cale. "I'll prepare some tea."

"What the fuck was that?" Cale asked, standing up and feeling dizzy enough to sit back down. Still, he barked out his demands at the innkeeper. "You clearly want to say something."

Roksu shrugged. "I just don't think you're going to get the answer here."

How annoying. And stupid. Of course he wouldn't get the truth. He didn't want the truth. He didn't want to wind up heartbroken and miserable and pathetic...

Cale sighed and slumped in his chair.

He'd already become all of those things.

One way or another, he'd have to hunt down Bob and force the truth out of him. If Bob was telling the truth, there would definitely be a way to prove it. For example, being in the same place as the crown prince at the same time would do the trick neatly. Cale would get his proof.

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair and stood up unsteadily. "Forget the tea." He grumbled. "I'm going to my room."

And when he woke up, he'd have a talk with Ron.

He'd had enough hiding like a coward. If he was really just a toy to Bob then fine, he'd make the bastard suffer for hurting him. Somehow. Maybe cut off his balls. Or burn off his hair. He'd brainstorm some ideas with Ron.

Cale stumbled and nearly fell on his face, surprised to have been caught by the stoic innkeeper. "I'll help you to your room, dear customer." Roksu said.

Cale sighed. He'd really overdone it with the drinking. Even his impressive tolerance was threatened by the sheer quantity and consistency of the alcohol. He'd have to sober up to be able to handle this bullshit.

Leaning his weight so heavily on Roksu that he was practically draped onto the innkeeper, Cale looked up towards the front when heard the bell. He thought it was Ron returning and so his mouth was already pursed with a command.

His eyes met with surprised brown ones that were painfully familiar.

His heart leapt into his throat.