Several men sat scattered on old wooden chairs, their postures relaxed yet their gazes sharp. A bare incandescent bulb hung high from the warehouse ceiling, casting light from above and stretching their shadows long across the mottled concrete floor. I was bound and seated on the ground, positioned far lower than them like a rabbit trapped in an iron cage, able only to be passively observed and judged.
"If we didn't tie you up, how else could we lure Captian here?"
The voice was cold, the malice undisguised.
My heart tightened.
So it was true… their real target was Captian.
I narrowed my eyes, suppressing the fear creeping up my spine. Biting my lip lightly, I lifted my head and looked at them. "Are you enemies of Mr. Captian?"
The men glanced at one another, then burst into loud laughter all at once. The sound echoed through the empty warehouse, so grating it made my scalp tingle as if my question were nothing more than an absurd joke.
"That's right." One of them curled his lips into a smug grin. "Enemies. Our boss can't wait to see Captian dead."
I frowned.
Not because of the answer, but because of the fleeting hesitation in their eyes when they mentioned their "boss," and because of that laughter—it didn't sound like absolute confidence, but more like something forced, as if they were trying to hide something. This hatred… was probably far more complicated than a simple grudge.
Had I been dragged into something truly terrifying?
I stared at their brazenly laughing faces and forced myself to stay calm. The more critical the moment, the more I couldn't afford to panic.
"Mr. Captian is very powerful," I said slowly, my voice so steady it surprised even me. "Are you sure you can kill him? What if he ends up killing you instead?"
The laughter stopped abruptly.
The air in the warehouse seemed to freeze. All of them stared at me, their expressions turning dark and cold. I could clearly feel them reassessing me, not as a hostage anymore, but as a variable outside their calculations.
After an unknown amount of time, they laughed again.
"Isn't Mrs. Anderson still here?" One man squinted at me, his voice brimming with ruthless confidence. "As long as you're here, are you afraid Captian won't behave himself?"
Hearing that, I almost laughed out loud.
A bitter irony welled up inside me. They clearly didn't understand what kind of person Captian was. That great demon king… would he really restrain himself and obediently comply for my sake?
Never.
Had they watched too many TV dramas?
I only curved my lips into a faint smile and said nothing more. But the mockery in my eyes was undisguised.
By nightfall, they began taking turns keeping watch.
The first guards in the dilapidated warehouse were two scarred men. The one on the left was named Charlie, a knife scar running from his temple down to his chin. The one on the right was Sean, a scar slashing across his neck ferocious and frightening.
The two sat around an old wooden table, drinking and playing dice. Their crude laughter rang out continuously, completely ignoring my existence.
A flicker of light flashed through my eyes.
My hands, bound behind my back, began to move ever so slightly. Carefully probing, I soon felt a sharp iron nail protruding from a wooden crate behind me. My heart beat faster, yet my movements grew even slower and smaller.
I began sawing at the rope bit by bit.
I didn't know whether Captian had realized I was missing yet. Nor did I know whether he would risk coming to save me.
Part of me hoped he would come, and part of me was terrified that he would.
I was afraid of becoming a burden. Afraid of becoming the reason he stepped into a deadly trap.
At some point… I had started worrying about his safety this much.
But I couldn't place my life in something called "maybe."
My life was mine. If I wanted to live, I could only save myself.
After midnight, Charlie and Sean left, and two others took over.
One was thin and gloomy, the man who had disguised himself as a hotel staff member to kidnap me, named Alexie. The other was fat and cringing in appearance, named Fred.
As soon as they came in, they started playing cards. Fred held a slab of fatty meat in his hand, gnawing and chewing as grease coated his fingers. The rancid smell spread through the space, making my stomach churn.
I lowered my head, pretending to rest.
But the cutting motion behind my back never stopped.
The movements were extremely subtle, so small that no one would notice unless they looked very closely.
Besides these four, there was another man guarding outside the door, named Caleb. He stood in the shadows, taciturn, his gaze darker and more cautious than the others. My instincts told me, he was the most dangerous one, and likely the true leader of this group.
The entire decrepit warehouse was guarded with extreme vigilance.
Even if I managed to cut through the ropes… escaping would be anything but easy.
I quietly observed every shadow, every stack of wooden crates, every narrow passage, while thinking about where I should hide if Captian really came, how not to get in his way, where he might break in, and how he could withdraw safely.
At that thought, I couldn't help letting out a heavy breath, my chest feeling weighed down. At first, I'd thought this was just a simple trip abroad, a "forced vacation" where I'd been dragged along behind him.
I never expected that the very first step I took in Ravenholm would land me straight into a bottomless mire.
An utterly ill-timed thought suddenly flashed through my mind... What kind of karma had Captian accumulated, or had he deliberately brought me along as bait on the hook?
The thought nearly made me laugh, but before the smile could form, my heart trembled instead. If I really was nothing more than bait… then I only hoped that when the fishing line was finally reeled in, the one holding the rod would still be alive to walk away.