Shin closed the door behind him, deliberately leaving the lock undone. A flicker of doubt crossed his mind, a brief consideration of the potential consequences of his actions, but he quickly dismissed it.
He settled into sleep for a solid eight hours, a period of deep, dreamless rest that did little to soothe the turmoil within him. When he finally stirred, it wasn't to the gentle caress of morning light, but to the faint sound of rustling in his room.
His senses sharpened instantly, honed by years of navigating treacherous situations. Every muscle tensed, coiled, and ready to spring, as he lay in wait, his mind racing to identify the potential threat.
The room was shrouded in darkness, the only illumination a sliver of moonlight filtering through the gap in the curtains. He could hear his own heartbeat, a steady drumbeat in the silence, each pulse a reminder of his vulnerability.
The rustling sound came again, closer this time, and Shin knew he had mere seconds. The moment the unknown figure reached for him, intending to violate the sanctity of his rest, he struck with the swiftness and precision of a viper.
In an instant, he grabbed the intruder's wrist, his grip like iron, the bones threatening to yield under the pressure. His other hand, a blur of motion, lunged toward their throat, his fingers instinctively seeking the delicate structures, ready to rip it apart and silence any cry before it could escape their lips.
But as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, piercing through the gloom, he halted his attack, recognizing the scent of perfume. It was Abigail. She had reached for him, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and desperation, her body trembling like a leaf in a storm.
Releasing her hand, Shin sighed, the adrenaline slowly receding, leaving behind a hollow weariness. He ran a hand down his face, the gesture conveying a complex mix of emotions – regret, frustration, and a lingering sense of being shaken by the sudden adrenaline rush. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. I'm still in need of rest." His voice was rough, a low growl that betrayed the exhaustion he felt.
Abigail's lips quivered, tears threatening to spill over her eyelids and trace paths down her pale cheeks, but she quickly shook her head, her movements jerky and uncoordinated. "No! It wasn't your fault. I need help! My mom... she's being harassed by a drunk guard! Daddy isn't around, and I don't know what to do. You have to come quick!" Her words tumbled out in a rush, a frantic plea that spoke volumes about her fear.
She tugged at Shin's arm, her hand surprisingly strong in her panic, urging him to get up and follow her. He downed a quick sip of water from the flask on his bedside table, the cool liquid doing little to shake off the remnants of sleep that clung to him like a stubborn shroud, then allowed Abigail to pull him along.
As he followed her through the dim corridors of the underbelly, an unsettling realization crept into his mind, a chilling premonition that something was terribly wrong. The further they walked, deeper into the labyrinthine passages, the stronger the stench of death became, a cloying odor that hung heavy in the air, a grim testament to the horrors that transpired within these walls.
When they reached Abigail's room, she pushed the door open with a force that belied her stature, revealing Magdalene inside. The woman was draped in a sheer, see-through nightgown, the fabric doing little to conceal her form, instead accentuating it in the dim light. Her body was positioned seductively, one leg artfully bent, her arm outstretched in a gesture of invitation.
Her exposed skin, smooth and inviting, glowed with an unnatural luminescence under the flickering candlelight, casting long, dancing shadows on the walls. The air in the room was thick and heavy, saturated with a sweet, cloying fragrance, heavily perfumed, an intentional and desperate attempt to mask the ever-present stench of decay that permeated every corner of this wretched place. It was an aphrodisiac, a carefully concocted potion designed to lure and intoxicate.
As Abigail stepped inside, her demeanor shifted subtly, a predatory glint entering her eyes. She turned to lock the door behind them, the click of the latch echoing in the sudden silence, a sound that sent a shiver down Shin's spine.
A giggle escaped her lips, high-pitched and unsettling, as she let her dress fall to the ground, pooling at her feet like a discarded skin. She stood before him, completely bare, her youthful body, though not as fully developed as her mother's, carried the same disturbing allure, the same air of practiced seduction. The intent in their eyes was unmistakable, a hunger that transcended mere lust.
Mother and daughter had made their decision. They had laid their trap, and Shin was their prey, the unsuspecting victim they intended to ensnare in their web of deceit and depravity.
Disgust churned in his gut, a wave of nausea threatening to overwhelm him, but he masked it behind an easy smile, a practiced expression that had served him well in countless dangerous situations. He played along, stepping closer, his senses on high alert, every fiber of his being screaming at him to flee. If it was dinner time, then it was time for justice to be served, a dish best served cold.
Abigail reached for his lips, her movements fluid and graceful, eager to claim a kiss that would seal his fate. He allowed her to get close, close enough to feel the warmth of her breath on his skin, but as she leaned in, her eyes fluttering closed in anticipation, he tilted his head slightly, guiding her lips toward his neck instead.
Magdalene, watching with growing jealousy, her eyes narrowed with possessive desire, moved to pull Shin toward the bed, her touch surprisingly forceful, but he gently refused, shaking his head with a knowing smile that belied the cold fury simmering within him.
"Sit there for a while," he instructed, his voice low and hypnotic, guiding her to perch on the edge of the ornate bed. She obeyed, her gaze fixed on him with a hunger that was both unsettling and pathetic, watching hungrily as he turned back to Abigail, his movements deliberate and unhurried.
Cupping the young girl's cheek, his touch feather-light, he whispered, "Close your eyes, little miss." His voice was a silken caress, laced with a subtle command that she seemed powerless to resist.
A deep blush spread across her face, coloring her cheeks a vibrant crimson. Completely bewitched by his charm, she obeyed without question, her eyelids fluttering shut, her body swaying slightly as if caught in a trance.
Shin stole a glance at Magdalene, his eyes like chips of ice, assessing the situation, ensuring both women were within reach, their attention fully focused on him. Then, as his hand trailed downward, tracing a slow, tantalizing path along Abigail's neck and shoulder, she shivered in anticipation, her breath hitching in her throat, attempting to guide his touch lower, her fingers trembling with barely suppressed eagerness.
But Shin had other plans, a different kind of intimacy in mind.
With a sudden burst of force, a speed that caught them both completely off guard, he drove a brutal strike into Abigail's solar plexus, his fist a piston of raw power. Her body convulsed violently, arching off the bed in a grotesque parody of pleasure as the air was ripped from her lungs in a silent explosion of agony. Eyes wide in shock and disbelief, a strangled gasp escaping her lips, she collapsed onto the bed, her limbs twitching spasmodically, unconscious before she even hit the velvet covers.
Magdalene's confusion twisted into raw, unadulterated fear. She barely had time to scream, the sound dying in her throat, before Shin clamped a hand over her mouth, his grip vise-like, cutting off her cry. In one swift, fluid motion, he maneuvered her into a chokehold, his arm a steel band encircling her neck, pinning her against the soft mattress.
She thrashed beneath him, her initial struggles frantic and desperate, her fingers clawing at his arms, but her strength faded fast, her movements becoming weaker and more feeble with each passing second. Within moments, her struggles ceased altogether, her body going limp beneath him, her eyes rolling back in her head.
Shin carefully laid her beside her daughter, positioning their bodies so that neither would fall to the cold stone floor. He scanned the room once more, his sharp eyes missing nothing, catching the dim glow of the hallway through the window, a beacon in the oppressive darkness. The coast was clear.
Without wasting a second, he tore the ornate bedsheets into makeshift bindings, his movements efficient and practiced, securing both mother and daughter. He bound their wrists and ankles tightly, ensuring they couldn't move even if they regained consciousness.
Next, he stuffed a wad of cloth into their mouths, effectively silencing them, before gagging them with the remaining strips of fabric, a final indignity. No voice, no magic. Even if they awoke, they wouldn't be able to cast a single spell, their power rendered useless.
Judging by the force of his strikes, honed by years of brutal training, they would be unconscious for at least two or three hours, perhaps longer, plenty of time to put his next plan into action, to set the stage for the retribution he craved.
Shin searched their garments, his fingers moving quickly and methodically, retrieving a set of keys from their pockets. Then, his gaze fell upon Abigail's desk, an elaborate piece of furniture crafted from dark, polished wood, where an open journal lay bathed in the warm glow of a solitary lamppost.
Perfect.
Flipping through the pages, his eyes scanning the disturbing contents, he found exactly what he needed, the evidence that would condemn them. Abigail's journal detailed the unspeakable horrors she had inflicted upon others, her twisted fantasies and sadistic desires laid bare in chilling detail.
Crude drawings of mangled victims adorned the pages, their suffering rendered in meticulous detail. She wrote about the anatomy of her prey, the delicate precision needed to keep them alive during prolonged torture, the ways she could manipulate their minds, breaking their spirits before finally snuffing them out like candles in the wind.
Shin's fingers curled around the book, his knuckles whitening with the force of his grip, fighting the overwhelming urge to destroy it then and there, to obliterate the vile words and images that stained its pages. But no, this was evidence, irrefutable proof of their depravity.
He stored it carefully inside his orb, the magical container humming softly as it absorbed the dark secrets, before scanning the room once more, ensuring he had left no trace of his presence. Satisfied, he turned to the door and slipped outside, locking it securely behind him, the sound echoing in the silent corridor.
This was the second floor. If Magdalene and Abigail woke up before he returned, they had two choices—stay put and await their inevitable reckoning, or jump out the window and break their bones on the unforgiving ground below. Either way, their fate was sealed. It wasn't his problem anymore.
Shin had other matters to attend to. There was still work to be done, a larger plan unfolding in his mind.
He moved quickly, his footsteps silent on the cold stone floor, heading toward the main hall, the heart of this decaying estate. It was time to set things in motion, to ignite the spark of rebellion that had been smoldering for far too long.
He needed allies for the insurrection, and he knew exactly who to seek out, the servant with missing fingers, a grim reminder of the family's cruelty, and the female guard, her face etched with the scars of abuse. Those two had suffered the most, their pain a testament to the family's tyranny. They would be more than willing to turn against their masters, their hearts burning with a righteous fury that matched his own.
Justice was coming, a cleansing fire that would purify this place of its evil.
And Shin would be the one to deliver it.