Staring out the window, Romiel was utterly bored.
I had been living in this dungeon for over half a year. My mother came to see me once; beyond that, no one else did.
"Romiel, it's time to go," a guard opened the door.
I knew this day would come.
Romiel stood up.
That hot shower they gave me last night, a razor, a decent meal—hell, they didn't even clamp on the shackles... I guess that was their way of saying goodbye.
Damn it, if I were afraid of dying, I wouldn't be a son of the Kriegren family!
Straightening my collar, Romiel followed the guard out of the dungeon.
All the cells on both sides were filled with curious eyes; they all knew that the half-blood locked up in the innermost single cell bore the Kriegren surname.
Hmph, I have nothing to say to you thieves. I'll head down to Hell first! But I'll be waiting at the gates for you bastards.
