A Distant Reverie

Chapter 32

Thud!

His hand, awkwardly rolled into a fist, punched the stone walls. Vesper instantly grimaced. The agonizing sting rippling through his fingers was enough for him to stop.

Clinching his hands, Vesper slumped against the ground, glaring at the ceiling. He was in a small, narrow cell, flanked on all sides by stone. A set of metal bars blocked his only exit from this confinement. The air was heavy and damp. The craggy surfaces around him were cold, littered with uneven protrusions. As he leaned back, the stones dug into his back, like the teeth of a serrated blade. The cell was empty. No furniture, no chairs, nothing to make himself comfortable and to relieve the throbbing pain radiating from his hands.

He had become a prisoner.

This has to be a sick joke...

He frowned, letting the anger boil in his chest. His uninjured hand traced over his neck, where a faint red line had scarred. His wrists as well were decorated by red welts, remnants of his hands being harshly bound by rope.

Vesper's arrival in this world was unpleasant to say the least. The moment he woke up, he found himself stranded in the middle of a rainforest. As he tried to get his bearings through the rainy fog, he was suddenly ambushed a group of people dressed in black cloaks. Before he could utter a spell, he found a knife pressed against his throat. Not the most cordial of meetings, but it wasn't his first time experiencing such a violent greeting. He recalled his encounter with Marine being quite similar. The pirate, however, didn't clock him on the head and throw him into a cell shortly after.

What the hell are you thinking, Lady Ouro?

Vesper clenched his jaws. His predicament aside, he also had no idea what happened to his companions. He had been alone from the moment he regained consciousness. Either there was a mistake during the transport process or—

—This was intentional.

Vesper's gaze fell on his cellmate. They were huddled in the corner of the cell. Hugging their knees. Their heads cradled in their arms; their face hidden from view. A small girl in her teens, Vesper presumed. The clothes she wore seemed plain, except for the distinct lack of wear and tear at the hems. Even under the dim lighting of the cell, Vesper noticed the glossy shine on her gloves and boots—a characteristic of high-quality leather. The only other notable feature Vesper could discern was her wavy light-blue hair that hung to her shoulders.

The girl had been there since the beginning. The entire time she hadn't spoken a single word, much less throw him a glance. Occasionally, he could hear a faint whimper or sniffle.

Vesper was used to be treated like he was invisible, but this was starting to feel excessive. If he wanted to break out this cell, he needed a minimum level of cooperation.

I swear I don't look intimidating, but...

He cringed, remembering how he impulsively punched the wall just minutes ago.

...I could see how that might come across as scary.

As Vesper wondered how to approach this situation, he heard footsteps from outside the cell. Soon enough, a pair of guards adorned in black cloaks appeared, pushing a small wooden cart. One of the guards reached through the gaps of the metal bars and placed two small bowls on the ground. Then without a word, they left, presumably making the rounds for the rest of the captives.

Once he can no longer hear the guards, Vesper shuffled over to peek inside the bowls.

Um, am I supposed to eat this?