The wind carrying the scents of feces, flowers, and fish passed through the torch in the dungeon, and in the gloomy darkness, droplets of water fell drop by drop.
Moss climbed up the original stone floor, and wooden clogs made a clattering sound as they struck it.
Three robed figures followed a lantern-bearing guard to a prison cell.
This cell was much better than the others; there was not only a desk and a soft bed but also no rats or cockroaches on the floor.
On the soft bed lay a person, dry and thin, like a branch sprawled across a dead tree.
Catherine gently tapped the iron bars with her finger, but the figure remained completely motionless.
She tapped twice more, and still, the figure did not move.
"Get up, old man!"
Catherine kicked the railing hard, causing it to clatter noisily, finally startling the person who rolled over from the bed.
"Can't you see someone is sleeping?" The white-haired old priest scolded angrily, still grumpy from waking up.
