The short man stormed back and forth across the room, his small frame moving with exaggerated fury. It was the same room where the MC had once seen him lounging lazily with a woman. But now, his face was twisted in rage, his beady red eyes glaring as he barked orders at one of his henchmen, who stood there with his head lowered, trembling slightly.

"Where are they?" the short man snapped, his voice sharp as a whip. "Did they capture the girl that the lord requested?"

The henchman swallowed nervously, his voice hesitant. "S-Sir... they're on their way... just a little delay—"

Thud! The short man slammed the glass he was holding onto the floor, shattering it into pieces. Alcohol splattered across the ground, the sharp smell filling the room.

"You useless bunch of fucking pigs!" he screamed, his face growing red with anger. "If you don't capture her soon, it'll be our heads that get chopped off! Do you hear me, you fucking moron?!"

The henchman snapped to attention, his voice shaking as he stammered, "Y-yes, boss! I'll go myself! Just give me a little more time—please, boss—just a little longer!" Without waiting for a response, the henchman scurried out of the room, leaving the short man pacing in fury.

With a deep breath, the boss grabbed another bottle of alcohol from the table, ripping off the cork and pouring himself a generous glass. He downed it in one gulp, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he muttered under his breath, "That bitch should be dead by now. What a waste... she was worth a lot to those shady bastards. Pathetic girl couldn't even handle one damn night. Fuck my luck."

One of his other henchmen stood by silently, listening to the boss's mumblings but keeping his head low, trying to avoid attention. His mind, however, was racing with a different idea. His lips curled into a sly grin as he thought, Didn't that girl have a little brother? He chuckled to himself quietly, keeping his thoughts hidden from the boss. If I bring the boy to the boss, that might get me something good.

Before he could act on his idea, the door creaked open, and Jackal entered, dragging the girl behind him. She was gagged, her eyes swollen with tears, and her hair hung in front of her face like a curtain, matted and wet from crying. She stumbled as Jackal pushed her into the room, her body weak and trembling. "Boss, I've got the girl," Jackal said, a slight grin of satisfaction on his face. "What do you want us to do with her?"

The short man finally exhaled, sighing in relief as he saw the girl. "About damn time," he muttered, standing up from his chair. "Put her down."

With a rough shove, Jackal threw the girl to the floor. She hit the ground with a hard thud, her small body crumpling like a rag doll. Her muffled cries barely made a sound through the gag, and her tears fell to the dirty floor beneath her.

The boss's expression darkened. He turned on Jackal, his face twisting in fury. "You fucking idiot!" he snapped, kicking Jackal with his small but surprisingly sharp foot. "What if you hurt her, huh?! The lord will have your eyes gouged out and your hands cut off if anything happens to her!"

Jackal stumbled back, his hands raised defensively. "S-Sorry, boss! I didn't mean—"

"Didn't mean to?" the short man interrupted, his voice dripping with venom. "Do you even know why she's so important? Do you think I know why the lord wants her alive? Do you think I know what goes on in that pig's brain beyond his lust for fucking women?!" His face reddened even further as he slammed his fist onto the table. "He's already wasted so many good products! One more, and it's our heads!"

Jackal backed down further, fear flashing in his eyes. "I-I didn't know, boss. I'll be more careful. What do you want me to do now?"

The short man waved his hand dismissively, frustration dripping from every word. "Go tell the lord the girl is ready. The room will be prepared soon. And put her in the cell for now. We don't need her roaming around."

Jackal nodded quickly and turned, pulling the girl to her feet and dragging her down a dim corridor. They reached the underground cell—dark, damp, and suffocating with the smell of mildew. Jackal roughly shackled her legs to the cold stone floor, her hands already bound tightly behind her back. Her mouth remained gagged, her muffled sobs the only sound in the quiet cell.

As she lay there, helpless and broken, she closed her eyes and tried to think of something—anything—that could bring her comfort. The only thing that came to her mind was the bright smile of her little sister. Maybe... maybe I'll see her again one day... she thought, trying to hold on to the hope that her suffering would end. But deep down, she knew that the darkness was closing in. Fate—or the author of this twisted story—seemed intent on keeping her from ever reuniting with her sister. Only time would tell if she would escape this nightmare.

Jackal finished securing her and started to leave the cell, his boots echoing in the damp hallway. As he stepped into the corridor, a shadowy figure approached—Chad, the other henchman who had been listening to the boss earlier. Jackal glanced at him, his brows furrowing. "What's your problem, Chad?"

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Chad leaned in closer, lowering his voice so no one could overhear. "Hey, I've got something good for you," he whispered, glancing around. "What do you say?"

Jackal's eyes lit up with curiosity. "What is it?"

Chad chuckled darkly, his voice filled with excitement. "I overheard the boss's tantrum. He's worried about that red-eyed girl—something about her being promised to some wealthy people, but she's dead meat now. But..." Chad leaned in even closer, his voice practically a hiss. "She's got a little brother, doesn't she? What if we capture him instead? That'll make the boss real happy. Maybe he'll even reward us... maybe give us control of one of the bars for the night. We could enjoy ourselves 'til morning, you know?"

Jackal's grin widened. "Oh yeah? You really think that'll work?"

Chad nodded eagerly. "I know where he is. He's staying just outside of town. We could be there by dusk, easy."

Jackal's excitement grew as he rubbed his hands together, his mind already racing with the possibilities. "Then let's go! We bring the boy back, and the boss will have no choice but to reward us."

"Yeah," Chad agreed with a wicked grin. "Let's go."

And with that, the two men set off, plotting their next move, unaware of the grim fate they were sealing for the boy.

The MC snapped back to consciousness as if life itself had yanked him from the depths. His entire body trembled, shaking uncontrollably, the flood of emotions striking him like shards of glass cutting through his veins. Every breath, every movement, sent sharp waves of pain rippling through him—like a thousand bees stinging him all at once. He gagged, then vomited, his body rolling violently on the ground, as if trying to expel the agony, the helplessness.

After what felt like an eternity, the storm within him quieted. The trembling subsided, and he lay still for a long moment, silent as a shadow. His eyes were wide and hollow, reflecting the torment still burning in his chest. Slowly, silently, he floated forward, his gaze falling on the girl.

She lay there, crumpled, broken—her lifeless eyes staring blankly at nothing. Her body was covered in bruises and cuts, her once vibrant skin now marred by tortured marks and twisted agony. The joyful, radiant person she once was—the girl who laughed, who smiled—was gone. Now, she was a shell, devoid of the life that had once made her glow with warmth.

The MC hovered over her, his breath hitching in his chest. Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision as they spilled down his face in ugly, uncontrollable sobs. His expression twisted, his face contorting with the sheer weight of the grief that tore through him. It was impossible to imagine that the beautiful, lively girl he remembered—the one who had filled the air with her laughter and warmth—could be reduced to this.

How? he thought, the question burning in his mind. How did it come to this?

The memories of her joyful smile, her bright laughter—they now felt like distant dreams, unreachable in this nightmare. There was no flicker in her eyes, no glimmer of hope or life. She was gone, and it crushed him. A deep, hollow ache settled in his chest, one that no amount of revenge or hatred could ever fill.

He had never known this kind of powerlessness before—this aching, suffocating sense of helplessness. For all his strength, for all his abilities, he had floated there, watching, recording every moment of her suffering, unable to change a thing. He had witnessed the horrors, the cruelty, and now... now it was burned into his mind. A memory he couldn't escape. A memory he couldn't forget.

I will make them pay. The thought churned in his mind, a mantra of vengeance. A hundredfold. For her. For all the girls like her. For every innocent who had suffered at their hands.

But even as the dark resolve formed within him, his heart broke all over again. It was too late for her. Too late for the girl who had once lit up the world with her smile. And as he hovered there, lost in grief and rage, the weight of her loss pressed down on him, unbearable and suffocating.

And in that moment, he realized something bitter and cold—no amount of revenge would bring her back.

The MC drifted from cell to cell, his heart sinking deeper with each glance inside. The bodies of the girls were lifeless husks, barely clinging to the thin thread of existence. Each one, tortured and abused, living through unimaginable suffering. The light in their eyes was gone, replaced by empty stares, as though their very souls had been drained away. Every one of them shared the same fate—devoid of life, trapped in an endless cycle of misery. The air in the dungeon was thick with despair, the stench of death lingering in every corner.

But amidst all that horror, in the suffocating darkness, something caught his eye—something out of place, something glowing.

It was faint at first, just a flicker, barely noticeable. But as he moved closer, the glow sharpened, taking shape in the form of a little girl. She was the same age as Rade, clinging to the metal bars of the cell to the left of his. The MC blinked, confused. There was life here—actual life. A bright spot in a sea of death.

She was crouched, doing something, her small hands moving desperately in the dim light. He couldn't make out what it was at first. The candles were too faint, casting long, flickering shadows on the cold stone walls. But as he drew nearer, his breath caught in his throat. The little girl—so small, so fragile—was trying to wake Rade.

She threw pebbles at him, her tiny arms trembling with effort, her movements clumsy but persistent. Her voice, soft and pleading, murmured something he couldn't hear. She was life—literally life—amidst all this death. A single point of light in the darkest of times, in the most desolate place. She didn't belong here. It wasn't a place for someone like her.

As if even Death pray for her life!

She wasn't shackled like the others. She wasn't bound, tortured, or restrained. She was free. Maybe they thought nothing of her, didn't think her small strength was worth the effort of chaining. Maybe they saw her as insignificant.

But the MC was stunned, frozen in place. This girl—this innocent little girl—was glowing in the midst of hell itself. Her face was beautiful, ethereal. Her hair, pure white, fell softly over her left eye, leaving only her right eye visible. That single eye was wide and large, sparkling with a mix of green and bluish hues. It gleamed like a precious gem in the dark. Her skin was soft, pale, her cheeks chubby with youth, her lips small and delicate. Even in her ragged clothes, which did nothing to complement her beauty, she was radiant. She was hope.

The MC's heart twisted in his chest. His breath hitched as rage surged through him, like a storm roaring to life inside him. He couldn't contain it any longer. His voice exploded out of him, filling the dungeon with a furious shout, reverberating off the cold stone walls.

"You bastards!" he screamed, his voice cracking with rage. "You motherfucking bastards!"

He floated higher, shaking with uncontrollable fury, his voice trembling as it rose. "You shit of the author! If anything happens to her—anything—I swear, I'll kill you! You hear me? I'll fucking kill you! Even if I have to crawl to the bottom of hell or tear open the gates of heaven, I'll find you, and I'll kill you in a way you can't even imagine!"

His voice echoed, filling the dark space around him. "You piece of shit! If you lay even a single finger on her, I'll tear you apart—I'll kill you!" His entire being shook with the weight of his anger, his vow reverberating in his mind like a promise carved in stone.

Panting, his rage spilling out like poison, he turned his gaze back to the girl, trembling as he watched her. She was so innocent, so pure, trying with all her little strength to wake Rade. Her soft hands fumbled as she threw another pebble, her small body slumped in exhaustion, but she didn't give up. She couldn't give up. Her quiet determination was almost too much for him to bear.

The MC floated closer, his heart pounding. He had never felt so helpless. He had never wanted to protect someone so badly. This girl—this fragile, glowing light in the middle of hell—she was hope, something he thought was lost forever.

As he watched her, trying again and again to wake Rade, he whispered to himself, his throat raw, "I won't let anything happen to you. I swear it."

And with that, he floated silently, watching her every movement, knowing that no matter what came next, he would fight for her. Even if it meant breaking every rule in this world.