"Your Majesty, welcome back," Gareth greeted, his voice low, steady—but not without tension. He was the one guarding the entrance to that room.
The torture chamber.
The knight bowed and stepped aside, pushing the heavy door open.
"Is everything set?" Heinz asked without emotion, his voice flat—lifeless, almost inhuman.
So cold that Gareth instinctively flinched, a chill running down his spine. A bead of sweat slid past his temple as he gave a stiff nod.
"Yes, Your Majesty. They're both awake."
"Perfect," Heinz said simply, stepping into the dim, torch-lit corridor beyond the door.
This was the place the palace never spoke of.
The place no one dared to acknowledge unless they had to.
The room had no official name. Everyone simply called it "the room." And it wasn't always here—Heinz had it constructed when he first ascended the throne.
A quiet message to those who would ever think of betraying him.
No rebellion. No schemes. No forgiveness.
