SWY 66

The stench was overwhelming. He could smell the metallic tang of blood, and faint groans reached his ears. Sharhan struggled to stay conscious, but his body wouldn’t obey. His eyelids felt like they had stones placed on them, and his limbs were bound tight as if chained in place. His head was foggy, as though wrapped in mist.

“……!”

After a long effort, he finally managed to lift his eyelids, but his mind was still hazy. Blinking slowly, he tried to make sense of the situation, even in his dazed state, then flinched and cried out.

“Le, Lestel?”

“…….”

“Lestel!”

At first, his voice barely came out, throat parched and dry. Even just calling Lestel’s name made his mouth sting. But Sharhan kept thrashing and calling his name again and again.

“Lestel!”

“…….”

“You bastard! Answer me! I said answer me!”

No response. Grinding his teeth, Sharhan tried to sit up but collapsed. Only then did he realize his wrists and ankles were bound, completely restricting his movements.

The ceiling that came into view as his vision cleared was unfamiliar. The groans he kept hearing told him he wasn’t alone.

“Is anyone there?”

Again, no reply. It seemed he was the only one who had regained consciousness. Wriggling his limbs, Sharhan managed to sit up and bit his lip hard. The pain of tearing skin and blood helped sharpen his awareness. The air was damp and heavy, it felt like a basement.

“A cell…?”

From the faint light coming through a window the size of his palm, he confirmed it, it was a prison.

“Shit.”

Sharhan cursed under his breath and furrowed his brow. An unpleasant headache throbbed at his skull, and his muscles felt weak. He remembered once as a child chewing on a strange plant he’d found while wandering the woods. His mouth had instantly gone numb, his body limp and unresponsive. Later, he learned it had been a numbing herb.

He’d been terrified, lying helpless in the middle of the deep woods. The usual sounds of bugs chirping, birds flapping, and beasts howling in the distance had all sounded like grim reapers approaching to take his life. Crying in fear, the name he’d called out over and over had been Lestel.

And Lestel had come running, his hair a mess, face smeared with tears and snot. Luckily, Sharhan hadn’t eaten much of the plant, so by the time Lestel arrived, the paralysis had mostly worn off. But the sight of Lestel looking like a complete wreck had made Sharhan’s heart twist oddly with guilt, and embarrassment.

So he’d forced a big grin and teased Lestel’s disheveled appearance, only to regret it immediately. Lestel had been furious. He didn’t speak to Sharhan for three whole days after that.

‘I ended up begging him in the end, didn’t I?’

His cocky “So what if you ignore me?” hadn’t lasted even a day. He’d hung around Lestel, provoking him, teasing him – when it got no reaction, he caved and apologized profusely.

He still didn’t really know what he’d done wrong, but after he apologized, Lestel’s first words had been, “Don’t just eat anything you find!”

‘Now that I think of it… that patch of grass was totally uprooted a few days later, wasn’t it?’

The whole area had been torn up, like someone vented their rage on it.

The reason that memory surfaced now, of all times, was because his current symptoms felt just like back then. A pounding headache, nausea, limp limbs, it was all the same.

“Sigh… I should’ve listened to Lestel and not eaten anything suspicious.”

It must’ve been the food they found on the rooftop of the merchant guild. It must’ve been laced with paralyzing herbs or something similar. Otherwise, there was no reason he’d suddenly collapse like that. After that meal, all he’d consumed was a bit of his own water.

‘Eight hours. It was exactly eight hours.’

He remembered what that man had said with that wicked smirk just before Sharhan passed out. Doing the math, it had been about eight hours since they shared the hunters’ food.

The man and his wife had acted kind, offering up rare rations and insisting they didn’t need it. But it was all calculated.

“That bastard was a human hunter.”

The middle-aged man, seemingly the leader of the survivors, had called him Sam. He hadn’t stood out, kept quiet, blended in, only really focused on caring for his wife, Lily.

But when Sharhan collapsed, the man had approached, and everything changed. That easy cruelty, that predatory calm, was just like all the other human hunters.

Sharhan could guess his identity. Based on what Ras had said, the man must have been a hunter who infiltrated the survivors’ group under disguise.

The moving corpses that suddenly attacked the survivors’ shelter? Probably Sam’s doing.

He bitterly regretted taking that man back to the inn without realizing he was a hunter. But it was already too late.

Even if he hadn’t, the poisoned food would have brought him down all the same.

“Is anyone else awake?”

Sharhan raised his voice, hoping someone else had come to. Shifting his hips, he looked around. A few others were visible. Someone lay collapsed in the far corner, back facing them, it looked like Derry. Sharhan recognized the robe. But Lestel was nowhere to be seen. Gritting his teeth, Sharhan called out.

“Derry?”

No response. Sharhan strained and nudged Derry’s body with his knee. After a few rough shakes, Derry groaned faintly and opened his eyes.

“Are you awake?”

“L-Lord Sharhan?”

“Yeah.”

“My head hurts… Where are we?”

Still dazed, Derry panicked once the situation clicked and tried to rise, only to collapse again. Sharhan slipped his bound ankles under Derry’s back and pushed hard. Derry flailed for a bit before managing to sit up, pale as a ghost.

“I think we’ve been captured by the hunters. Do you remember anything before you passed out?”

“C-captured? Uh… I think everything was fine, and then I suddenly got dizzy. Then the inn door burst open and a bunch of armed men came rushing in.”

“What about Lestel? Did you see what happened to him?”

Derry tried to recall, but only shook his head sadly.

“I’m not sure. Isn’t he here?”

“He must’ve been taken somewhere else.”

Sharhan bit his lip, anxious. Lestel had also eaten the poisoned food, so he must’ve collapsed around the same time. At least, he hoped so. The worst-case scenario was that Lestel had stayed awake, fought back, and got himself killed.

‘My heart didn’t hurt.’

That meant he was either dead or completely fine… He had to be fine. Just locked up somewhere else.

Thanking his instincts for not tearing up the contract, Sharhan shuffled to check on the others. There were five more people besides him and Derry. He didn’t recognize any of them, they all seemed to be in their early twenties and fairly good-looking. They had visible wounds, but nothing fatal.

Still, none of them stirred even when nudged. They’d likely be unconscious for a while. Sharhan decided not to wake them. From now on, he’d be even more wary of strangers, even if they were in the same cell.

“What do we do now?”

Derry’s voice trembled with fear. Sharhan clenched his jaw so tightly his bones showed.

“We’re going to find Lestel.”

“How?”

“Derry, can you burn the ropes with magic?”

They needed to be free before doing anything. Derry’s eyes widened.

“With a fireball?”

“Yeah. Make it as small as possible and burn through the ropes. Can you do it?”

“You could get burned!”

“I’m willing to take the risk. Escaping is more important right now.”

If he still had his hidden dagger, this would be easier, but his ankle felt empty. They must’ve taken it.

“What about the door?”

“Let’s get free first, then figure it out. Can you do it?”

Derry hesitated. Sharhan, growing impatient, barked, “Derry!”

That jolted him. Derry swallowed and nodded.

“I’ll try.”

Muttering the incantation, Derry conjured a fireball behind Sharhan’s back. Startled, he quickly dispelled it and tried again.

After a few attempts, he managed a flame the size of a thumb. Focusing, he brought the tiny flame close to the rope.

“Ugh!”

Even with care, it scorched Sharhan’s wrist. He let out a pained breath, and Derry flinched, trying to pull the flame away.

“Keep going.”

“B-but…”

“I said keep going!”

Derry sniffled but focused again. Crackle, bit by bit, the rope burned along with his skin. At last, it snapped. Though his hands were free, Sharhan stayed still, fists clenched, overwhelmed by the pain. Sweat drenched his entire body.

“Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah.”

He barely managed the words as he untied his ankles. The knots were done in a mercenary’s style, tight but doable by hand. He quickly freed Derry too, then searched his pockets. Luckily, the contract was still there. They’d taken his dagger, but not the parchment.

Just as he let out a breath of relief–Thunk. The heavy metal door began to open.