Yu Mei hung from the cold, rusted chains, her body a patchwork of bruises, filth, and old wounds. The air in Blazing Purgatory was thick with damp rot, the iron tang of blood never truly fading. The dim, flickering lights overhead only deepened the shadows stretching across the cell.
The drugs forced down her throat had long since eroded her mind, leaving her in a perpetual state of delirium—trapped between nightmares and the cruel, waking reality she had brought upon herself.
Yet, no matter how fractured her sanity was, she always recognized the mask.
The moment those vermillion-red eyes locked onto hers, a shriek tore from her throat—hoarse and broken from years of screaming. She thrashed wildly, chains rattling against stone, as if sheer panic alone could set her free.
She could not beg. Her tongue was long gone.
