Eight

Three Months Later—

"….." Robin's eyes remained wide open, unblinking, while his lips bore numerous bite marks, some fresh and others barely healed. He continued reading the page before him, so engrossed that even if Pythor himself or the impatient woman stormed in at that very moment, he wouldn't even notice.

The royal garments he had entered the cave wearing had long lost their luster; once pristine, they had faded into a dull, worn-out state. His chin was now covered in an unkempt layer of stubble, while his long hair —once arranged neatly with a regal elegance— had become a tangled mess, each strand rebelling in a different direction.

Scratch Scratch

Absentmindedly, Robin dragged his nails across his scalp, his fingers longer and sharper than before. He paid no attention to the thin trickle of blood now running down his forehead.

"Hm?"

He flipped the page and instinctively reached for the next one— only to find empty space.