昔日战俘与审讯官的一天一夜

Felix continuously had the same nightmare.

He was back in the interrogation room, his hands tied behind his back in heavy fetters, his feet chained to an iron chair, and his thin cloth robe drenched. In the damp prison, he was barefoot on the stone floor, shivering with cold. The wounds on his knees were sutured to stop the bleeding, but the pain penetrated into the bone. The marks on his thighs and back were so red and swollen that he had to stretch his shoulders and stand on tiptoe to minimize contact with the chair.

Someone was talking outside the door. He vaguely heard a string of numbers, which were the numbers he was given when he was thrown into the dungeon. Those people also said ‘peace talks,’ ‘agreements,’ ‘Temple group intervention,’ ‘counting prisoners’ and so on. Then, the door creaked open and a familiar figure came in, the face he was most afraid of——

King Capital’s Knight Sean Clayson. He was tall and cold, with long pale gold hair tied at the back of his head, and his facial features were as delicate as those of an elf portrayed by a court painter.