The redhead endless sufferings

chapter 8:teen idle

Chapter 8: Crimson Echoes

As the familiar darkness of the dream realm settled around them, a haunting melody filled the air, bringing with it an unsettling heaviness. The gods had summoned them again, each of them bracing for another glimpse into the fractured psyche of Cale Henituse. But none were prepared for what they were about to witness.

The screen flickered to life, revealing a dimly lit room where a younger version of Cale, perhaps fifteen or sixteen, sat alone. His expression was weary, his face too solemn and empty for someone so young. The scene was silent, save for the quiet clinking of a bottle of wine held in his trembling hand. Its crimson liquid mirrored his own repressed anguish, pooling like a wound that never healed.

[I wanna be a bottle red]
[I don't know why but I feel conned]
[I wanna be an idle teen]
[I wish I hadn't been so clean]

The lyrics echoed around the group, capturing Cale’s silent cry for help—a need he’d buried so deeply that not even he seemed aware of it. Choi Han stared, his heart twisting painfully as he took in the scene. How could someone so young have already felt such disillusionment? He’d always thought Cale’s indifference was part of his strength, but now he saw it for what it truly was: a mask hiding a lifetime of solitude and self-loathing.

Rosalyn, usually composed and analytical, felt her heart break as she watched the image of Cale, the wine bottle tipping slightly in his grip. “He was just a boy,” she murmured, her voice choked with emotion. “Why… why did no one help him? How did everyone around him let him fall so far?”

[I wanna stay inside all day]
[I want the world to go away]
[I want blood, guts, and chocolate cake]
[I wanna be a real fake]

The memory continued, showing Cale’s empty gaze fixed on the bottle as he took a swig, his expression one of practiced indifference. But the lyrics betrayed his real feelings—anger, disillusionment, a painful desire for release from the burdens he never asked for. There was a bitter yearning in his eyes, as if he longed to disappear from the weight of expectations and the hollowness of the Henituse family mansion.

Raon’s large, usually bright eyes were clouded with sadness. “Human… why was human alone? Didn’t he have anyone who cared?” His voice was soft, a confused sadness lacing his words. Raon had always thought of Cale as strong and fearless, the one who always saved others. But now he understood that even the strongest could have hidden wounds.

[Yeah, I wish I'd been, I wish I'd been, a teen, teen idle]
[Wish I'd been a prom king, fighting for the title]
[Instead of being sixteen and burning up a bible]
[Feeling super, super, super suicidal]

Alberu clenched his fists, his usual calm replaced by a cold anger. “All that wealth, that status—none of it mattered. He was a prisoner in his own life, forced to live behind walls of silence.” He paused, his voice tightening. “He grew up surrounded by people who saw only his family’s power and influence. They ignored the person he was inside. This is the price he paid.”

As the song continued, the vision shifted, showing Cale wandering the grand halls of the Henituse mansion, his footsteps echoing in the silence. He looked like a ghost haunting his own home, out of place, lost, invisible even to those closest to him. Every step seemed to drain him of whatever energy he had, his face painted with a numb resignation that spoke of someone who had long since given up on hope.

[The wasted years, the wasted youth]
[The pretty lies, the ugly truth]
[And the day has come where I have died]
[Only to find, I've come alive]

Lock, who had always admired Cale’s strength and courage, felt a mixture of anger and sorrow boiling within him. “He… he gave so much to us, to everyone, but who was there for him?” His voice wavered. “He had no one. How can that be fair?” Lock’s voice grew more determined, the sadness transforming into a fierce loyalty. “I won’t let him suffer alone ever again.”

[I wanna be a virgin pure]
[A twenty-first century whore]
[I want back my virginity]
[So I can feel infinity]

In the memory, young Cale’s face softened for a brief moment, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through the mask. He reached out toward a mirror, tracing his own reflection with a haunted expression, as if searching for a version of himself he couldn’t find. Then, his gaze hardened, and he turned away, raising the bottle to his lips as if to drown the remnants of innocence left inside him.

Beacrox looked away, his usually impassive face showing a hint of sadness. He had always respected Cale’s unyielding will, but seeing him like this, stripped of his confidence and pride, was more painful than he expected. Cale had been just a boy, trapped in a world where love and kindness were privileges, not rights.

[I wanna drink until I ache]
[I wanna make a big mistake]
[I want blood, guts, and angel cake]
[I'm gonna puke it anyway]

The image shifted again, showing Cale in his room, the lights dim, his eyes blank as he poured another glass of wine. There was something chilling about the calm with which he carried his self-destruction, the eerie acceptance of his own suffering. Rosalyn bit her lip, feeling a wave of guilt crash over her.

“He built a fortress around himself, and none of us thought to ask why,” she whispered, her hands clenched tightly. “We all relied on his strength without ever wondering how he became so strong.”

[I wish I wasn't such a narcissist]
[I wish I didn't really kiss]
[The mirror when I'm on my own]
[Oh God, I'm gonna die alone]

The vision blurred as the scene faded into darkness, the group left staring at each other in a silence thick with unspoken pain. Each of them wrestled with the image of a younger Cale, so alone and weighed down by burdens he’d hidden so well. They had seen glimpses of his struggles before, but this—this was different. It was raw, personal, a confession of loneliness and despair.

Choi Han was the first to break the silence, his voice filled with a deep sadness. “He’s always been there for us, no matter the danger. He gave us everything, and we took it without ever seeing… this side of him.” His eyes, usually so determined, were softened with regret. “But no longer. From now on, we’ll be the ones protecting him.”

Raon, who had been silent, now spoke up, his small voice filled with fierce determination. “Yes! I will be the shield for human. No one will hurt him, not even his own sadness. I will make him happy!”

Alberu’s gaze hardened, his mind already planning ways to support Cale without him noticing. He would find a way to make sure Cale never carried these burdens alone again. “He won’t suffer in silence anymore. Whatever it takes, we’ll stand beside him.”

Rosalyn nodded, her heart swelling with determination. “We owe him more than we can ever repay. From now on, we’re his family—one that sees him, that cares.”

The gods, watching from the shadows, allowed themselves a small smile. Perhaps, in sharing these painful memories, they were giving Cale something precious he’d never had: people who truly saw him, not as a tool, not as a symbol, but as a person worth protecting.