Tea With the Beauty

The last thing Xion remembered was a heavy cloth being thrown over his head. He had no idea how he had somehow managed to offend the sacred order.

Now, he found himself seated on something hard and cold. Judging by the shape, it was likely a wooden chair.

The cloth still obscured his vision, making everything feel oppressively claustrophobic.

Under normal circumstances, he would have torn the cloth away the moment he regained consciousness, but to his dismay, his hands were tightly bound to the armrests.

Forget moving his hands; he couldn't even wiggle his legs!

The kidnappers had tied his legs securely to the chair's legs, leaving him completely immobilized. With no other choice, Xion had to sit helplessly, waiting for his captor to return and remove the suffocating cover.

He had tried shouting earlier, fifteen minutes ago, to be exact, but no response came. Not a single sound, not even the faintest echo of approaching footsteps.