Ͳհҽ Ɱąժ Ҡìղց

Dungeon

Wang's grandmother has frequented the palace every day to beg on her knees. However, they won't let her see her grandson.

Wang has been in this dungeon for three weeks now, and it has become increasingly frustrating that no one has visited him. He received a meager meal once every two days, but no other communication.

He wanders the dungeon every day, trying to figure out how to escape. However, every attempt he made failed. The walls are thick and solid.

As he continued to search, he found a curious sight. At the end of the dungeon, there is a long, narrow passage that leads to a chamber. Despite the darkness shrouding the room, he can make out a faint glow emanating from within.

Wang noticed a coffin positioned deep within the room as he stepped closer. The coffin is adorned with flickering candles, which illuminate its eerie presence. The sight sends a shiver down his spine, and he finds himself unable to resist the urge that holds him in place.

The urge to open the coffin was overwhelming, and he cannot explain why. There is something about it that compels him to touch it. Despite his reservations, Wang reached out to the coffin, his fingers grazing its icy surface.

The tension builds as he stands before the coffin. The temptation to disobey his instincts is overwhelming. But just as he was about to succumb to the urge, a deafening noise fills the air. Startled, Wang jerked his hand away, suddenly realizing the danger he put himself in.

Wang retreated from the chamber; relief washed over him. The urge to open the coffin has faded, leaving him questioning his own sanity. He couldn't shake the haunting image of his grandmother's tear-streaked face. However, he found solace in knowing Xie would ensure his grandmother ate well and took care of herself.

Another six weeks passed quickly as Wang continued to scribble on the wall. However, Wang's worries about his grandmother and fiancée only grew stronger. He couldn't help but feel a pang of resentment towards the king's authorities for not allowing them to see him, even if it was just for a few minutes. Wang have no doubt his grandma's plea is worth a century, if measured in years. He got tired of this place.

Wang became increasingly captivated by the coffin. Its presence intrigued him from the beginning, and now he thinks about it more frequently.

Cold seeped into his bones as he lies on the floor, Wang's curiosity outweighed his fear. "If I was going to die here, I might as well satisfy my curiosity about what lay inside the coffin." He said with a heavy sigh, he decided to open it and see for himself, regardless of the consequences.

Wang cautiously approaches the casket. A shiver ran down his spine. With trembling hands, he slowly lifts the lid, his heart pounding in his chest. Upon peering into the casket, he was speechless. It was not a corpse at all, but rather a sleeping boy under 20.

He had black raven curly hair that cascaded down his shoulders, framing his pale face. The stark contrast between his features and pale skin sent shivers down Wang's spine. But as Wang's eyes traveled down to his chest, he felt a sudden surge of fear.

There, protruding from the boy's chest, was a shining silver knife. But it was not an ordinary knife; there was a red stone flickering on the blade, casting an eerie glow over the darkness. The sight was terrifying.

Unable to control his reaction, Wang stepped backward, his feet stumbling along the uneven ground. He landed unceremoniously on the ground, shaking in the night's stillness. The impact of his body reverberated through the ground, as if the ground itself trembled beneath him.