Two days.
Two stupid, agonizing, soul-crushing days.
Sure, it didn't sound like much, but when you were trapped in a haunted ex-concubine shack with no proper food, no bed, no light, and possibly the spirit of someone who hung themselves glaring at you from the ceiling beam, it felt like a lifetime.
Eric sat slouched on the dusty floor, cheeks puffed out in frustration, gnawing on what remained of the rock-like mantou.
His scowl deepened.
"Can't they at least feed me properly before this so-called marriage?" he grumbled, tossing the remaining piece down with dramatic flair. "Ughh, my stomach can't handle this dry rock anymore…"
The mantou landed on the floor with a thunk, bouncing once before settling near a rat hole.
After Ryan dropped off the stupid bag of stale food two days ago, no one came to check on him. No guards. No servants. Not even a peasant to drop off moldy tofu. Just him, the dust, and the dead silence.
