Time dragged on painfully slowly in the dark, damp basement.
Dave wasn't sure whether several days or several weeks had passed since his imprisonment. The only way he could keep track of time was by the appearance of the "guards" who brought him food, which, he had to admit, seemed to arrive at rather irregular intervals.
Having barely escaped death at the hands of a mad teenager, Dave himself didn't know what to feel: fear or shame, indignation or pity, resignation or anger.
His situation seemed ridiculous, even absurd, but it was all happening in reality. And no matter how much Dave thought about the decisions he had made, he simply couldn't come up with a better outcome.
He was treated fairly well. As well as one could expect a prisoner to be treated, anyway.
He wasn't beaten, starved, tortured, or forced to work. They had simply locked him up so he wouldn't get in the way and brought him food from time to time.
At some point, Dave even began to wonder if they intended to keep him here as some kind of pet.
It was an unpleasant thought, but still better than dying a pointless death.
What he had in abundance was time to think.
And Dave used that time to come to terms with his situation and get to the root of the problem.
On that ill-fated day, a little over a week ago, the patrol commander had given them a rather strange order: search Thorn's Tabernacles and report any unusual activity. They were to pay particular attention to human tracks, as if they were looking for someone.
At first, Dave assumed some spoiled brat from a noble family had simply run away from home. Which meant the patrol would once again have to combine the usual beast lair extermination with a search for some important person.
Such absurd situations happened from time to time, and given his low rank, Dave had no right to question orders.
However, the longer he sat in the damp basement and thought about it, the more inconsistencies he noticed.
The commander's orders made little sense. No description of the person's appearance. No instructions to protect the child. Not a word about a rescue operation. Just report, inform, and observe.
As if the higher-ups had no intention of finding someone in need of help.
On the contrary, it seemed as though they were looking for a target to hunt.
Then Dave remembered the strange group of teenagers who had taken him prisoner without giving much thought to the consequences. And after replaying the events in his mind over and over again, he finally connected them to the victims of the Merciful Flame's Cult, which had been the subject of more and more rumors lately.
"Well, shit," Dave muttered as the whole puzzle finally fell into place in his mind.
He realized that those teenagers hadn't been some random travelers he'd happened to cross paths with by chance.
They were the ones they had been looking for all along... Potential candidates for witness protection, or perhaps... targets for elimination.
And if they had reached the same conclusion themselves, then everything that had happened to him afterward suddenly seemed perfectly understandable, even logical.
Having come to this realization, Dave no longer felt angry or blamed them for being excessively cruel.
As law enforcers, they had failed in their duty. They hadn't intervened when the cult tried to use innocent children as sacrifices, hadn't protected them, and might have even unknowingly taken part in the pursuit.
To tell the truth, Dave was grateful they hadn't killed him on the spot.
From their perspective, that had been a rather merciful, even noble act, one that, if he was being honest, he didn't deserve.
Dave had made this disturbing discovery quite some time ago and had been waiting ever since to see what fate the mad boy, whose orders everyone else obediently followed, had in store for him.
But a day passed, then a second, then a third.
Perhaps an entire eternity had gone by already, but there was still no news.
Dave didn't complain. Anything was better than a sudden and pointless death.
The only thing that bothered him was his poor sleep and the terrifying nightmares that left him waking up in a cold sweat. However, unlike the teenagers, he didn't attribute these occurrences to anything supernatural.
Given his situation, nightmares were a perfectly logical consequence, not some kind of anomaly.
Most of the time, the dream began with Grey appearing.
He would greet Dave with a warm smile, ask how he was feeling, and make small talk, just like he had on the first day they met. But then, at some point, his expression would suddenly change, and with a cold look on his face, he would read out Dave's sentence.
Torture, to extract information he didn't possess.
A public execution, to boost the morale of the others.
Dark visions of the future that sent chills down his spine.
Dave would wake up in a cold sweat before he even had time to figure out which answers had been wrong or what Grey had been trying to accomplish in the first place.
However, today, the usual routine was disrupted.
In the dark basement, where there was nothing to keep him entertained, Dave had long since grown accustomed to listening to the groans and complaints of the teenagers during their training sessions. It was the only source of variety, and, much to his own surprise, he had begun to find a strange kind of comfort in it. At least it was something to break the silence and drown out the endless stream of his own thoughts.
Today was different.
No shouting, no blows, no swearing. All he could hear from upstairs was laughter, cheerful voices, and lively arguments.
The atmosphere was more reminiscent of an ordinary evening in a cheap tavern than an abandoned manor in the middle of the forest where a group of wanted teenagers was hiding.
This...
Was unsettling.
Dave leaned his back against the wall and strained his ears, trying to figure out what exactly was going on up there.
An hour, two, three... The festivities showed no signs of stopping.
"What the hell are they celebrating?" he muttered under his breath, while his imagination was already conjuring up preparations for his own execution.
Creaaak
The sound was so unexpected that Dave's body tensed instantly. He reflexively raised his head and looked toward the massive door.
Standing in the doorway was a figure who had appeared in his nightmares more times than he could count.
A blue-eyed boy with an innocent smile, the kind you'd expect from someone visiting his best friend, not a prisoner.
"Dave, good evening. I hope you don't mind me stopping by," Grey said calmly, placing a massive torch into its holder so the darkness wouldn't interfere with their conversation.
As if I wouldn't mind! Dave protested inwardly, but didn't dare say it aloud.
His back was already covered in goosebumps. He could almost see the grim future unfolding before his eyes, where this very same boy would order his execution by beheading.
Dave pinched his arm, trying to figure out whether he was having another nightmare, but the sharp pain shattered that hope.
He licked his dry lips, trying to calm his racing heartbeat, and forced a crooked smile.
"Good evening, Sir Grey. I can call you that, can't I? That's what your subordinates told me to call you..."
Grey chuckled, looking somewhat flattered.
"'Sir Grey.' That's a nice way to address me. Makes me sound important. I like it," he said lazily and cheerfully, unaware that his black pupil had twitched slightly, as if trying to swallow his iris.
He didn't bother with any more formalities and plopped down beside Dave, right on the damp ground, his eyes settling on the heavy chains that bound him.
One had to admit, the manor had been built to last.
Its layout accounted for every possible convenience, even such highly specific situations as this one. If not for sheer luck and Lady Veronika's help, he would never have found a more suitable place for a base.
"So, how do you like our hospitality? Not getting too bored? I can see the boys haven't been stingy. You don't look too thin, pale, or exhausted. They even brought you some straw so you could rest comfortably here..."
Grey kept smiling.
There wasn't the slightest hint of regret or remorse in either his posture or his expression over the way the prisoner was being treated. On the contrary, there was a note of pride in his voice, as if he genuinely believed Dave was enjoying every minute of his stay rather than being locked up in a dark basement.
Dave groaned inwardly.
Why did every word this boy said sound like a repeat of his nightmares? Did he really have to show off his crazy side? Dave was a prisoner, not on vacation. How was he even supposed to feel in a place like this?
Dave forced an ugly smile that looked more like a grimace.
"I'm doing fine, Sir Grey. There's no need to worry about me... C-could I ask why you've come to visit me?"
Dave decided to get straight to the point.
He could no longer stand these polite little games when his very life was at stake. If fate had decided to end his life right here and now, he'd rather it be over as quickly as possible.
Grey raised an eyebrow at Dave's unnatural reaction.
After all, he wasn't some spawn of Hell. He simply couldn't have left such a terrible impression on someone.
Grey wasn't oblivious to the impression he made on others. He understood how people perceived him. Still, even he found it difficult to imagine that a grown man could break down so quickly.
However, after thinking it over for a moment, he quickly found an explanation.
Most likely, the paranormal incidents in the manor had affected not only his subordinates but Dave as well.
Come to think of it, that wasn't surprising at all.
Dave was a prisoner here. It was only natural for him to feel afraid and anxious about his future. If the supernatural entity hadn't tried to take advantage of his situation, Grey would have considered it utterly incompetent.
Well... He could make use of that creature after all.
It would make negotiating a favorable deal much easier.
"That's why I came," Grey said calmly. "To decide what to do with you. You know, food and water are expensive. Especially here in Thorn's Cloaca. Keeping you costs me a pretty penny. This can't go on..."
Dave let out a heavy, almost resigned sigh.
He looked like a man who would accept any order without complaint. The thought of escaping or resisting didn't even cross his mind, despite the fact that his "guards" were nothing more than teenagers.
"Just tell me what... what you're going to do with me. I'm not expecting anything, and I'll do whatever you order."
Grey raised an eyebrow again, this time with clear disapproval.
This man was completely broken. He had lost his will to live and didn't even entertain the thought of fighting back. How useful could a subordinate be if he had no backbone? It seemed his plans would need a few adjustments.
Without another word, he casually leaned back, supporting himself with his hands, and asked a strange question:
"Do you know why I decided to let you live that day?"
"I have no idea." Dave shook his head without even looking up.
"It's all because of your sister," Grey explained calmly. "Her name is Catherine, isn't it? Am I right?"
Dave's gaze grew more focused.
"Well... that name means far too much to me. So... ahem... ahem..."
Grey cleared his throat awkwardly, as if he found the next words difficult to say, though at that moment Junior was protesting furiously in the back of his mind.
"That's my mother's name... So, no matter how ruthless I may think I am, I started having some doubts. I even went so far as to look into her background over the past week, while you were locked up here."
"And do you know what I found out?" he asked another rhetorical question.
A faint spark of life flickered in Dave's eyes, but he remained silent.
Grey paid no attention to him and continued in a dry tone:
"Catherine. Twelve years old, works part-time as a laundress. Distinguishing features: chestnut hair, a round face, and a birthmark on her neck just below her ear."
"Tamar. Thirty-eight years old, a widow, works with the church community, mother of two. Distinguishing features: chestnut hair, wears a worn-out church uniform, and never takes off a simple wooden bracelet her husband gave her."
"And finally, Dave. Eighteen years old, joined the city patrol six months ago. Your family lives on Eighth Street in the slums, not far from the Temple of the One God. Did I miss anything?"
This time, Dave snapped.
He sprang to his feet and lunged straight at Grey, but the chains pulled taut, stopping him before he could reach his target.
Grey, of course, wasn't foolish enough to sit so close to a prisoner he was deliberately provoking.
Dave's face twisted with rage. Ignoring the pain in his wrists, he struggled to reach Grey.
"You devil... damn you! You bastard! Why are you doing all this?! I haven't done anything to you or your people! So why are you being so cruel?! Leave my family alone! Want to execute me? Go ahead! Want to torture me? Fine! I still don't know anything! But don't you dare drag them into this! I swear, I won't leave you alone, even if I turn into a ghost!"
Grey stood up and, for the first time, looked at Dave without the slightest trace of a smile.
"Much better," he nodded. "You're not quite the worthless piece of trash I thought you were. Otherwise, I'd have wasted resources I don't want to part with."
He leaned forward slightly.
"Now listen to me carefully, and don't miss a single word."
...
P.S
I sincerely apologize for the delay in publication. My computer broke down today, and I had to dig through my archives and restore everything using remote access just to get the chapter published on time. Thank you so much for your support and understanding!