The Pri Minister’s Mansion, Dungeon.
Unlike the luxury above, this place is eerie and damp, like a corner forgotten and spat on by the world. Just a wall away, sunlight shines brightly outside, yet inside, the stench of decay and rot is unbearable.
The dungeon holds a dozen or so small rooms, each imprisoning different captives. Occasionally, the sound of agonized moans echoes through the air.
The dwarf is also locked in one of these rooms.
He never would have dread that the Fourth Prince would treat him like a gift, offering him to the Pri Minister as a tool for avenging his son’s death.
That night, the Fourth Prince invited him for a drink. He had been delighted, thinking he had gained the prince’s favor and that endless opportunities lay in his future. But when the alcohol wore off, he found himself in this damned dungeon.
During his ti here, the Pri Minister questioned him once—after torturing him to so extent. The Pri Minister declared that on an auspicious day, he would execute him as a ritual offering to his son’s spirit in Heaven.
It was only then that the dwarf realized he had been betrayed by the Fourth Prince. His heart was filled with both shock and fury, but being trapped here, there was no chance of escape.
The entire dungeon reeked of rotting filth, the stench perating the minds of every prisoner. Fear was inevitable.
Suddenly, a fellow prisoner sharing the room with the dwarf let out an unwilling howl. The rattling of chains on their wrists and ankles echoed sharply, piercing the ears and resounding throughout the dungeon. Their long, unkempt hair obscured their face, making them resemble a malicious ghost chained for eternity—a chilling spectacle.
The dwarf, however, glanced at them with indifference and said, "Save your wailing. No one can hear you anyway. Don’t disturb my sleep."
Covered in filth, the prisoner continued their bitter screams: "I’ve been locked here for over ten years. Those pri years of my youth—ruined in this dungeon. I won’t accept it. I won’t!"
"What’s the use of resentnt when you’re trapped here?"
The dwarf lay on the damp floor, surrounded by the foul stench.
There was no other way. In this room, prisoners ate and relieved themselves together. Over ti, the accumulated filth created a stench so unimaginable, it defied description. Insects crawled ceaselessly across the floor, while rats and cockroaches lurked everywhere.
Yet, with his life hanging by a thread, the dwarf didn’t focus on these grim details. His mind was consud by thoughts of escaping the dungeon and seeking revenge against the Fourth Prince.
The prisoner said, "If I manage to escape one day, I’ll definitely behead that hypocritical, fake righteous Pri Minister."
The dwarf asked curiously, "Who are you? What grudge do you have against him?"
"He stole my wife and killed my child."
"Is the grudge for killing a child that big?"
"Of course, it’s irreconcilable. I can never forgive him."
"Well, that’s not good for . I need to figure out a way to escape this dungeon soon. Otherwise, my own life won’t last much longer."
"What did you do to offend the old coot of a Pri Minister?"
"I accidentally killed his son." The re ntion of this incident left the dwarf stifled with frustration. How was he supposed to know that brat he killed happened to be the Pri Minister’s son? Worse, the boy was the Fourth Prince’s uncle. Heaven truly enjoyed playing cruel gas with him.
"What?"
"I said I killed his son." The dwarf answered irritably. Ending up in the dungeon because of a brat—it was humiliating, sothing that would make anyone mock him if word spread.
"Hahahaha...!"
Suddenly, the prisoner burst into manic laughter, shaking the entire dungeon. Dust showered down from the ceiling, covering the dwarf’s body and face.
"Pah! Pah! Pah! Are you insane?" The dwarf unintentionally inhaled a mouthful of dust and spat water furiously in an attempt to clear his mouth.
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