Chapter 20:- The Man-Child

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Charlus didn't ask for the Raider's bedroom because it was comfortable and enormous. He asked for it because Mrs. Raider had brown hair. After seeing his fellow partners, Charlus felt a pint of insecurity and remorse in his present state. His face was pale, he had light bags under his eyes and his hair, his once gorgeous hair, ran white along with brown like a pint of unmixed paint on a painters palette.

Charlus made his way upstairs while reminiscing his past. In those days, before he received his trainer's license, Charlus spent half his day playing, fighting and busy trampling James. Threatening to break his glasses used to be his ideal menace of all the time. James had always been a huge fan of country music, during their sleepovers he used to annoy him by signing to the words of Angel and Demon. Charlus used to knock him down with a cushion and Spandex used to electrocute him, burning nearly every bed sheet available.

To him, those were the moments worth recollecting with a sigh. Because he knew that he'd sacrifice anything to listen to his annoying voice again.

Charlus dragged his calloused hands along the wooden rail of the imperial staircase. Once or twice, he would nearly trip because of the soggy rug that covered them. The white wall which laid in front of him was covered with portraits and paintings belonging to the Raider family, their family members, and some very expensive artwork. Charlus scoffed as he saw the huge oil portrait of James, Lark, and Delia Raider hanging in middle. James hated sitting for oil portraits more than he hated fingerprints on his clean glasses.

And that meant a ton.

Charlus opened Delia and Lark's master bedroom, the cleanest room in the whole manor. He remembered that their room used to smell of freshly bloomed Magnolias, but now, it smelt nothing but dust and water leak. Charlus coughed a couple of times as he threw his backpack on the bed. The room was the size of his father's laboratory. The bed was four-posted with white curtains draped around it. The bedding was at least ten inches tall and was as soft as a Mareep's fur coat. Like other rooms, this one too was filled with antiques, but he paid no heed to them.

The brown-haired groaned as he emptied the contents of his bag, he didn't have any time to pack, he grabbed whatever he could find and plugged them in. He found a bunch of dirty t-shirts which he suspected was taken out from the dirty laundry and- yep, he definitely forgot to bring pants.

He reached for his belt to take out his pokeballs, surprisingly they weren't there. He forgot that he had transferred them to his father before he came here. Seeing Samuel after years was awkward, it was the most uneasy conversation he ever had with his father or with anyone for the matter of fact. Uncovering the contents of his bag, he discovered eight pair of socks, all mismatched. In addition, He forgot his toothbrush, towel, shaving kit, and hair comb. In bitterness, he tossed his bag across the room and grabbed a handful of his hair in distress and sank back on the bed.

He was so busy counting the number of crystals in the elegant chandelier that hung on the ceiling that he lost count of time. He heard some commotion going on outside but paid no attention. It wasn't until a faint knock echoed through the room that he got up. He lazily opened the door, only to find Delia oozing water like an open faucet.

"If you're looking for a towel," he remarked. "You're at the wrong door, I forgot mine."

Delia shook her head, "I came to check up on you." she said. "The waterline in Joanne's room unexpectedly burst, so- well, is everything okay?"

Charlus heaved a sigh as he shook his head, "Nothing is fine." He exasperated. "I forgot about my clothes."

After a moment, she burst into a laugh, "Charlus Oak forgot his clothes?" She exclaimed. "If James were here, he would've hurled himself over the stairs."

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