The room erupted in chaos as Ismay, the young woman, reacted with sudden fury upon hearing Esme's defiant words.
Her face contorted with rage, she lifted her foot and delivered a swift, brutal kick to Esme's stomach.
The impact was like a thunderclap in the tense atmosphere. Esme's body convulsed with pain, a strangled gasp escaping her lips as she doubled over, coughing violently.
Blood sprayed from her mouth, staining the floor and the table beside her.
Esme groaned in agony, clutching her stomach tightly, the pain overwhelming her senses.
Her vision blurred with tears as she struggled to comprehend the sudden violence inflicted upon her.
Beside her, Beom reacted swiftly, transforming into a swirling white mist that enveloped Esme, infusing her with a comforting warmth as their spirits intertwined.
Esme's eyes, initially clouded with pain, began to glow with a soft, golden light.
The magical bond between her and Beom pulsed with ancient energy, offering her a brief respite before unconsciousness claimed her.
The world around her faded into darkness as her eyelids grew heavy, finally closing as she slipped into unconsciousness.
...
"Ugh," Esme groaned softly as she slowly regained consciousness. Her head throbbed with pain, and as she opened her eyes, the reality of her surroundings came sharply into focus—she was in a dimly lit prison cell.
The cold, metallic bars and the damp stone walls closed in around her, a stark contrast to the chaos and violence she had just endured.
She struggled to sit up, every movement reminding her of the brutality she had faced. The ache in her abdomen where Ismay's kick had landed was a constant reminder of her vulnerability. Memories of the confrontation flooded back, mingling with the bitter taste of blood that lingered in her mouth.
Esme surveyed her surroundings with a mix of disbelief and resignation. How had everything spiraled out of control so quickly?.
Esme's movements were deliberate as she approached the steel bars, her gait purposeful and unwavering.
Her hand extended towards the cold metal, intending to grasp it, but before her fingers could make contact, a jolt of electricity surged through her, causing her to cry out in pain.
"Ahh," Esme gasped, her voice laced with surprise and discomfort. She staggered back a few steps, clutching her right wrist with her left hand, her brow furrowed in a mixture of irritation and grim determination.
The shock had caught her off guard, momentarily piercing through her usual composure.
The sudden noise drew the attention of a passing policewoman. She hurried over, her expression a blend of annoyance and suspicion.
Her tone, edged with disrespect, cut through the air as she addressed Esme, "What are you shouting for, huh?"
Esme turned to face the officer, her features a mask of cold indifference despite the lingering pain in her hand. She met her gaze squarely, her eyes narrowing slightly as if assessing her.
"The bars shocked me," she stated calmly, her voice steady despite the underlying tension. Her body language remained controlled, betraying no hint of vulnerability.
"If it's not giving shock, then what? These bars are made for people like you, to keep you guys under control," the female police officer retorted, her voice tinged with annoyance and authority.
"What do you mean by people like me?" Esme shot back, her tone cold and piercing as she locked eyes with the officer.
Her gaze held a mix of defiance and confusion, unsure of what false accusations her own family could have concocted against her.
Her hands, normally steady, clenched involuntarily at her sides, betraying the turmoil within.
Hearing her words, the female police officer's annoyance deepened, her expression hardening further.
"Do you think I am your servant or something, that I need to answer your questions?" she snapped irritably.
Esme maintained a calm demeanor, her voice steady despite the tension in the air.
"I asked what did I do for me to be here," she reiterated, her gaze unwavering as she sought clarity amidst the escalating confrontation.
Her hands remained folded in front of her, a quiet gesture of composure contrasting with the officer's escalating agitation.
"You..." The officer gritted her teeth in anger, her eyes flashing with fury as she took a few sharp steps forward, ready to confront her target. Her brow furrowed, and her jaw clenched tightly.
"What's going on here?" demanded a woman's voice, authoritative and seasoned. The policewoman froze mid-stride, the color draining from her face as she turned to face her senior officer.
The senior officer, around fifty years old and dressed in her crisp police uniform, exuded an air of command and experience.
Her expression was stern, yet there was a hint of concern behind her steely gaze. She stood tall and composed, her presence instantly commanding respect.
The younger officer's anger seemed to waver in the face of her superior's authority. She hesitated, realizing she might have acted rashly.
A moment of tense silence passed as the senior officer assessed the situation, her eyes narrowing slightly.
The senior woman approached with deliberate steps, her presence commanding attention. Her eyes, sharp and penetrating, locked onto the policewoman who stood before her, visibly taken aback. With hands clasped behind her back, the older woman's expression was serious, conveying both authority and concern.
"I am asking what is going on, officer," she demanded, her voice firm yet edged with a hint of impatience. Her gaze bore into the policewoman, who gulped nervously, her face paling under the scrutiny.
The policewoman stuttered, trying to find words to explain, but under the senior woman's unwavering stare, coherent sentences eluded her.
She shifted uncomfortably, a bead of sweat forming on her brow, feeling the weight of the senior woman's expectation and the seriousness of the situation.
The older woman's presence seemed to fill the space around them, her posture erect and unwavering, contrasting sharply with the policewoman's visible unease.
Each moment stretched taut with tension, the silence punctuated only by the faint sound of distant voices echoing down the hallway.
Finally, the senior woman spoke again, her tone softer but no less commanding.
"I need answers, officer. Now." Her eyes held a mix of determination and concern, demanding clarity and resolution from the shaken policewoman before her.
The policewoman's hands shook as she tried to form words. "I... I..." Her voice trembled, eyes darting around the room before she lowered her head, overwhelmed by the weight of the moment.
Her breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, and her shoulders slumped as if carrying an invisible burden.
But then, as if a sudden spark ignited within her, she jerked her head up, eyes wide with a mixture of fear and desperation. Her gaze locked onto Esme, and with a shaking finger, she pointed directly at her.
"It's... it's this bitch's fault," she spat out, her voice rising in a frantic, urgent tone. "It was her..."
Her face contorted with a blend of anger and anguish, veins visibly pulsing at her temples. The room seemed to hold its breath, every eye now fixed on the policewoman's accusatory stance.
Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them back, determined to make her point heard.
Her body quivered with the intensity of her emotions, and she seemed to shrink and swell at the same time, caught in the grip of a powerful internal struggle.