Leon pushed open the door.
It revealed a not-too-long staircase. At the end of the stairs was a raised platform, sealed off on both sides by iron gates.
When Angel reached the railing and looked down, his expression froze instantly.
People!
A dense, teeming mass of people!
The enormous underground wine cellar was packed full of people!
These people wore scraps of cloth, and from the distinctive patterns on those rags, one could infer that when intact, they had been servants' uniforms.
Among them were some female servants, whose maid uniforms' skirts could still be made out. But now, their bodies were almost entirely exposed, their pale flesh glaringly conspicuous.
Yet despite that, there was not the slightest trace of anything sensual.
Because they were all gaunt as skeletons. Beneath a thin layer of skin lay nothing but bone. At a glance, it was like stepping into the lowest dungeon of the cruelest slave master.
A foul stench, terror, and a pounding dread filled the air.
Originally, these people moved with extreme sluggishness, striking all manner of strange poses, their expressions blank and vacant. But when Angel and the others entered, perhaps catching the scent of "people," they all raised their heads and looked toward the platform above.
The moment they saw Angel's group—
In an instant, their eyes changed!
From lifeless to crazed, from ash-gray to scarlet. Their expressions shifted from dullness to agitation and madness, like starving beasts that had gone hungry all winter, waking to the sight of food in a frenzy.
Pairs upon pairs of scarlet-glowing eyes stared at them from the darkness. It was like entering a damp, shadowy cave and seeing a swarm of bats waiting to feast on blood.
Before Angel could make out their faces, shrieks, roars, and eerie laughter blended together