The cramped room was choked with the heavy stench of damp earth, stale sweat, and biting iron rust.
Thud! Eva was shoved violently from behind, stumbling inside. The chair she was strapped to sat in the very corner—an old wooden thing with termite-eaten legs. Her hands were pulled behind her back, locked in a dead knot by coarse hemp rope. There were no windows or vents in the stifling room. The only source of light was a dull oil lantern on the table, its flame dancing nervously whenever a cold draft blew in from nowhere.
Kiyora stood tall before Eva. Beneath the dim lantern light, the parallel slash scars on her left cheek looked even deeper and more horrifying. The woman carried no weapons. She didn't need to.
"Why did you recklessly help him, Eva?"
Kiyora's voice flowed softly. Yet, every word that left her mouth landed heavy, as if dropping a boulder down to the bottom of a dead well.
