"Haa…"
He slid down against the door, cold sweat dripping down his temple. Relief flickered briefly—at least he had run fast enough, escaping that eerie, lingering laughter.
Adren knew he had to get up and leave, yet his legs felt weak, refusing to move. Helpless and uncertain of what to do, his thoughts tangled in confusion—until, in that very moment, something interrupted him…
But the next moment, a searing pain tore across his face.
Warm liquid trickled from his forehead, dripping onto his trembling hand—blood.
"Ah…" Adren wanted to scream, but no sound escaped.
An invisible force clamped tightly around his throat—cold and unyielding, like iron pincers locking down. His hands clawed desperately at the air, but there was nothing to grasp. His windpipe was crushed shut, no sound leaving his mouth, his lungs burning as oxygen drained away, his chest ripping with pain.
