Currently, in the capital of Rania, a soft breeze passed through the ill-fitting windows and doors. The lantern hung off a rusty hook, shedding just enough light on the wooden bed.
Behind the curtain, a young girl was squirming below the sheets. Barely reaching fourteen, her river of aqua green curls spilled across her fragile shoulders. Her skin, the color of creamed tea, was as chill as a mermaid's. Drugged and weakened, any attempts of escape were futile.
Hasan, a forty years old bald man of short stature, had a face blotched like fatty salami. Staring lustfully at the fresh meat below him, his hands crept down the sheets. Like any victims of this old freak, what awaited her was only a painful demise.
Before he could nip at the tender skin, he felt his neck being squeezed by a thick rope. Out of sudden, sharp snake fangs appeared before his eyes, "..." Frightened, he let out a noise of panic, "Aaaaah!!!"
