Meanwhile, in the quiet hotel room, the main cast sat in uneasy silence, the air was thick with tension and uncertainty.
The faint glow of the lanterns illuminated the walls, casting long shadows that danced with the rhythm of the flickering flame.
While, on the bed lay the elven knight, her face pale but peaceful now. Her breathing was steady, the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest the only sign of life that reassured them she was still alive.
No one spoke for a long while. The mood was heavy, filled with a strange mix of confusion and unease. It was Samuel who finally broke the silence.
"So, what do you all think happened to her?" he asked, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his tone casual but laced with curiosity.
His posture was relaxed, but his eyes were sharp—calculating.
"Hm, who knows…" Sydelle sighed, as she leaned forward in her chair.
