When he noticed the young man's expression change, Michael rose abruptly from his chair and took a small step backward. His eyes darted around the room, as though searching for an escape route.
Seeing Michael's wariness, Charles tried to put him at ease. He moved a little closer, raising his hands to show he meant no harm. "Don't be afraid. I'm not here to hurt you. Your family hired me. They thought you'd disappeared."
Uncertainty flickered in Michael's eyes, half-believing, half-doubting, unsure whether the man before him was telling the truth.
"What happened? Why are you locked up in here?" Charles asked.
"I... I was being hunted by people who wanted my research," Michael replied, his voice quivering.
"Who's hunting you? And what kind of research would make them pursue you like this?"
Michael averted his gaze, speaking in a subdued voice. "A miracle drug... for curing diseases."
'Lies,' Charles thought to himself. 'Once we get back to the special unit, I'll extract every bit of information from you, then throw you in prison.'
"So after that, they captured you and brought you here to force the details out of you?"
"Yes," Michael nodded.
"Before you were captured, did you report this to the City Guard?"
"I did report it, but they wouldn't believe what I told them. So I sought help from an influential group that someone I know recommended. But I was discovered before I could get help, and ended up imprisoned here."
Charles listened to Michael's explanation with suspicion. He knew the other man was lying. The 'someone he knew' was likely Roland, and the 'influential group' probably belonged to the Master. The fact that Michael was carefully avoiding naming who had captured him only confirmed he wasn't telling the truth.
After hearing everything Michael had to say, Charles doubted he'd get any more truth from him even with prolonged conversation. Besides, the longer they stayed here, the greater the risk of being caught. But he couldn't leave Michael behind. He decided to help him escape.
"First, we need to get out of here. The longer we stay, the more dangerous it becomes," As he spoke, Charles released a subtle wave of his power, making the researcher focus intently on him, temporarily forgetting other concerns—especially questions about how Charles had found this place, which was something he most wanted to avoid explaining. The escape would be much smoother if Michael didn't resist.
"Do you know any other way out besides the one I came in through?" Charles asked.
Michael nodded. "There's a secret passage I know about, but it's extremely dangerous."
"More dangerous than the guards outside?"
Michael thought for a moment. "Probably less dangerous."
"Then we'll use that secret route," Charles answered confidently.
Michael nodded in agreement. "Follow me," he whispered, before leading the way out of the room.
They crept along the dark corridor back to the upper laboratory. The unconscious guards still lay where Charles had left them. Michael hesitated slightly at the sight but said nothing.
"Where's the exit?" Charles whispered, his eyes scanning the room, wary that other guards might come to check.
"Behind that medicine cabinet," Michael pointed to a large wooden cupboard set against the wall.
"If you knew about this exit, why didn't you escape earlier?" Charles asked, voicing the suspicion he'd had since Michael mentioned knowing a secret route.
Michael lowered his head, avoiding Charles's gaze. "I... I tried before, but it's pitch-black in there, and the air is toxic. I nearly died in there." He took a deep breath, clutching his shirt tightly. "And after they recaptured me, I was punished."
Charles saw the fear in the other man's eyes, but felt not the slightest pity. His compassion for this man had vanished the moment he'd seen evidence of the experiments at the clinic.
"But this time is different. We'll go together, and we will make it out alive."
Michael felt reassured by these words, then walked over to the large medicine cabinet. With trembling hands, he slowly pushed it aside, revealing a narrow opening in the stone wall.
"If we follow this path all the way, we'll come out in the cemetery behind the temple."
Charles peered into the darkness. The light from the laboratory reached only a short distance, revealing just the rough stone walls and water droplets seeping through the cracks.
"We'll need light," he muttered, turning to take a lantern from the wall.
"Don't do that! There's sulfur leaking in from the mines. Any spark could cause an explosion!"
Charles considered for a moment before putting the lantern back. He tore two strips of cloth from the bottom of his shirt, handing one to Michael. "Use this to cover your nose against the smell."
Michael took the cloth and obediently covered his nose. Then both men stepped into the narrow tunnel. The air was cold and damp, and the sulfur smell stung their noses sharply despite the cloth masks.
One of Charles's hands traced along the stone wall to guide their way, while the other gripped a hidden knife, not fully trusting Michael.
The sound of water dripping from the ceiling echoed softly. In the darkness, the passage sloped slightly upward, winding back and forth.
The deeper they went, the more pungent the sulfur smell became, making it almost impossible to breathe even through the cloths over their mouths. The tunnel walls were stained with deep brown marks from iron rust that had fallen from the old structures embedded in the walls above.
This passageway seemed to have been built as a secret route for moving corpses or experimental subjects, but now lay abandoned and neglected. The sulfur smell grew more intense with every step, and the echo of their footsteps mingled with the ominous silence of the damp corridor.
Charles began to feel slightly dizzy, his breathing labored, his mind growing foggy. Now he understood why Michael had said this route was dangerous. The sulfur fumes weren't just flammable; they were poisonous if inhaled in large quantities.
In the narrow, lightless tunnel, their greatest resource—sight—was rendered useless. They had to rely on their other senses, yet with each step forward, their hope diminished. The path ahead seemed endless, and worse, the air inside was toxic.
As time passed, both men's breathing became increasingly restricted, as though tiny needles were pricking the insides of their nostrils. They began to cough and choke. Their throats burned, and their noses and eyes started to run. The dizziness intensified, followed by waves of nausea.
"We need to get out of here quickly," Charles said in a hoarse voice. These words were directed not only at Michael but also at himself.
Michael didn't respond, too tormented to utter a word. Both men quickened their pace. If they couldn't exit this secret passage in time, death awaited them.
As they pressed on, Michael began to cough more violently. His legs weakened, and he vomited uncontrollably.
Focused on moving forward through the dark and dangerous passage, the young man failed to notice the researcher's distress behind him.
"Help me," the middle-aged man's raspy voice called out, using all his remaining strength to plead for his life.
Charles spun around sharply. Though he couldn't see in the darkness, he could tell from the abnormal breathing—the gasps of someone near collapse—what was happening. Charles hurried back, running toward the researcher in danger, using all his senses to guide him.
'Don't die yet. There's still important information I need. You can't die now,' the young man thought to himself.
Charles groped along the tunnel walls, trying to reach Michael as quickly as possible, until his leg stumbled against Michael's collapsed form on the ground. Rapid, labored breathing and violent coughing echoed throughout the narrow tunnel. His hand touched sweat-soaked fabric before he quickly lifted the weakened body.
"Hold on," Charles whispered, trying to suppress his own cough as he put his arm around the researcher to help him stand. Though Charles himself was beginning to have difficulty breathing and his mind was growing foggy from the toxic fumes, his body—hardened by rigorous training—allowed him to endure better.
"I...I can't go on," Michael said in broken gasps before coughing so violently that his body doubled over. "I don't want to die."
"We're almost there. Hurry," he pulled Michael's body forcefully onward, though he had no idea how far the exit really was. But standing still meant waiting for death.
Michael's body weighed heavily on Charles's arm, slowing their pace with each step. The sound of water dripping from the ceiling and labored breathing echoed throughout, mixed with the sound of boots scraping against the stone floor.
Soon, Charles felt his own limbs weakening and his consciousness beginning to fade. He bit his lip hard to stimulate his senses and stay alert.
Suddenly, the hand that was tracing the cave wall felt a cool breeze. Hope sparked in his despairing heart. Though it was only a slight change, it was enough to revive their fading consciousness.
Their pace quickened. The once-overwhelming sulfur smell began to gradually dissipate. Though not entirely gone, breathing became a little easier. It was a good sign.
"We're getting close," both men's footsteps hastened at this realization. The sulfur smell that had been so strong it burned their nostrils was beginning to fade, though not completely. Breathing became incrementally easier, though still difficult. This was a positive sign.
"We're close," Charles said, trying to encourage both Michael and himself.
Michael raised his head slightly, now sensing the change in the air as well. Though he had no strength left to speak, he forced his legs to keep moving, fighting against the death that had nearly claimed him moments before.
From the time they entered the secret passage, though only fifteen minutes had passed, to the two men it felt like hours. Every second had been filled with the torture of fighting for survival against an invisible threat.
At last, a dim light appeared ahead, and they could feel a gentle breeze stirring the ends of their hair. As they drew closer, they could make out the faint outline of an old, thick stone door, left slightly ajar, allowing a trickle of moonlight to seep through. It appeared unused for a long time.
'Finally...' the young man rejoiced inwardly. 'So much for this being less dangerous than the guards!'