The short four-minute journey felt as long as forty-eight hours.
Initially, there were screams and curses. But later, unable to endure the pain, they frantically fought back, using knives to slash, teeth to bite, and every ounce of strength to struggle—even if freedom meant being crushed beneath the wheels.
Finally, the cursing turned into hoarse pleas before disappearing.
The rag-like thing hanging outside the car window made no sound.
It silently followed the laws of physics, scraping against the ground, leaving behind a gradually drying crimson trail for the pursuers behind.
Sadly, after leaving such an eye-catching mark, the figures active on the motorcycle gradually disappeared from view.
Until the car finally stopped in the underground parking lot of Kahara hospital, the nurses who received the report from the front door rushed over with a stretcher, yet did not see the expected injured person.
They only saw a shaky object hanging on the car window.
