"Marionette . . . in the dungeon?"
Faustina couldn't believe what she was seeing. The moment she blinked, the puppet in front of her disappeared and then a low chuckle followed. She turned her head towards the source of that silent chuckle; there, she saw the marionette yet again—sitting on the chair. It looked hollow, and it embodied the same appearance as the one that attacked in the capital.
Ba-thump.
Faustina's heartbeat grew louder, a bead of sweat pouring from her forehead to her temples. The red-tinge atmosphere made everything sinister than it already is. The marionette's lips were sewn into a smile, and it wasn't moving—its head was bowed down, and its arms were numbly dangling to the sides of the chair. Faustina backed away, taking several steps backward.
