By the time Renjun's men decided to leave, it was already nightfall.
It was almost like being hauled in random stinky dungeons was becoming a constant practice in Minho's life. It didn't matter how many times it happened; he would never get used to it. For starters, every instance felt worse than the previous one.
At least back at the mansion, Minho had a place to sleep in regardless of how bad it was. Here, no one cared enough to even set him free. As it was, his arms and feet were still bound to the chair with thick straps of tape.
Minho's eyes ran over everything in the room, which was empty for the most part, and only had scanty furniture. The floor was cold, and his feet were bare. In front of him was a big steel door that was massive and worn.
