The food was surprisingly good.
When Shawn first arrived, he expected the typical meals of a prisoner, half-cooked scraps tossed into a dirty bowl and forgotten. Instead, the food always arrived warm and properly prepared. It tasted far better than anything he ever expected from a captor.
After he finished eating, Ness and her servant quickly left the room. Neither of them seemed interested in spending any more time with him than necessary.
Shawn didn't mind. The moment the heavy door closed, he immediately returned to the single task that occupied most of his days: learning the layout of his prison.
His first few attempts had been embarrassing. He had walked straight into walls, banged his knees against the wooden bed frame, and nearly fallen flat on his face more than once. But a week of constant practice changed everything. Now, Shawn could move through most of the space without even touching the walls.
He slowly paced from one end of the room to the other, counting each step under his breath. Five. Six. Seven. Turn. Three. Wall. The map existed only inside his head, but it was enough. If a miracle ever happened and he found a way out, he refused to be the fool who escaped his chains only to crash into a wall and get caught.
Several days passed without him ever seeing the light of day. He couldn't see it anyway, but his skin still seemed to miss the warmth. The room remained freezing cold at all hours, especially during the long nights. More than once, he had curled himself into a tight ball beneath the thin blanket, trying to save what little warmth his body had left.
At least the splitting migraines were gone. He had spent the first few days untangling the chaotic mess inside his head, but by now, the memories had finally settled into something he could understand. Shawn and Three. Both names belonged to him now, and neither identity was going away.
The thing that bothered Shawn most was that Morgan hadn't visited once during the entire week. A man like Morgan didn't seem like the patient type. If he wanted information, he should have already started asking questions. If he wanted revenge, Shawn would have already suffered for it. Instead, Morgan simply left him alone in the dark. Waiting. Preparing. For what, Shawn had no idea.
Ness, however, continued to appear every day without fail. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. She was always accompanied by a servant, and she always carried the food tray herself.
The arrangement made less sense the longer he thought about it. Morgan owned enough servants to fill an entire mansion, so why send his own daughter to feed a prisoner? Unless there was a specific reason. Or maybe the man was simply insane. Shawn knew he couldn't dismiss that possibility either.
Shawn sat cross-legged on the mattress and started to meditate. The practice had started as a way to calm his racing thoughts, but over the past week, he had discovered another major benefit: it helped fight off the absolute boredom. Being blind in an empty room left a person with very few hobbies.
As he sat quietly in the silence, another thought surfaced. How old was Ness, anyway? Based on her voice, she sounded around ten or twelve years old. Then again, this strange world had people who could bend space and survive things that should easily kill a normal human. For all he knew, she could be some ancient monster pretending to be a child. The idea was ridiculous, but unfortunately, it wasn't impossible. Morgan himself existed, after all. Shawn quickly decided he didn't want to think any further down that path.
Instead, his thoughts shifted toward escape. They always did. Every single day ended the exact same way, searching for a solution and finding absolutely none.
If only he had some sort of ability. Anything at all. Space manipulation like Vexer, or maybe his father's flames. Some strange power that could break through these stone walls or unlock doors from a distance. Instead, he had nothing. No sight, no abilities, and no allies.
"Blind and unawakened," he muttered into the dark. "What a perfect combination in this shithole of a world."
The words brought a bitter smile to his face. After spending a week thinking over his situation, he had reached one clear conclusion: he was painfully underqualified for surviving in this world.
"This is the time I start regretting why I was never a novel reader before I died," he thought, letting out a short snort.
Back then, Jean had spent years trying to convince him to read the fantasy novels he loved so much. Shawn had always refused. He preferred building things with his hands, and stories had seemed like a total waste of time. Looking back, maybe he had been too quick to judge. At least those main characters always seemed to know exactly what they were doing after waking up in strange worlds. Some discovered hidden powers right away, while others found ancient inheritances, secret tunnels, or legendary treasures. Meanwhile, he was blind, locked in a cell, and making everything up as he went.
"Turns out those novels might have been useful after all," he whispered.
The room went dead silent again. Then came a very familiar sound.
Creeeeak.
The heavy door opened. Shawn's expression immediately hardened, and his muscles locked up.
The footsteps that followed were slow and unhurried. Confident. Deliberate. He knew instantly that his week of peace had just ended. It was Morgan. The man didn't even need to speak for Shawn to recognize him.
"I hope our accommodation was satisfactory," Morgan said. His tone carried the exact same irritating confidence as before. "Apologies if it didn't meet your standards. We did our best."
Shawn remained completely silent. Over the past week, he had learned an important lesson: speaking to Morgan was exhausting. The man seemed capable of turning any conversation into praise for himself.
"No need to look so unhappy, little boy," Morgan chuckled. "I actually came bearing good news."
Silence filled the room once more. Morgan appeared perfectly content to let the tension build up in the dark, waiting for Shawn to crack. When Shawn didn't say a word, Morgan finally continued.
"Today, you'll be changing rooms." A small, chilling smile entered his voice. "How does that sound for a start?"