A faint sliver of sky light fell through the window, blocked by iron bars mottled with rust, casting square grids across the floor.
Dark.
Very dark.
By mid-June, Bing Fire was approaching. Two suns hung in the sky, and the weather was gradually turning dry and hot.
The flesh and blood stored in the cellar over the entire winter, never cleared away, had begun to rot and stink.
That stench, mixed with the sour reek of fermented bodily fluids, constantly assaulted the nose tip, leaving one dizzy and on the verge of vomiting.
"Ha... ha..."
His hair was matted into clumps, and the raggedly dressed herdsman Tsering was dragged into the dungeon in heavy chains, shoved and jostled along. He stumbled into the dry straw, barely able to breathe through his mouth and nose.
His mind was muddled. In his terror, he swayed from side to side without realizing it, his gaze passing through the poking stalks of straw.
There were people in the cell.
Someone hugged their knees and curled up against the wall, seeming to have only half a foot left.
Beyond that person.
A black human shape was nailed to the stone wall, half in sunlight and half in shadow. Its upper limbs were intact, but its entire chest and abdomen were hollowed out.
Looking closely.
Fine, shriveled muscle patterns covered the figure's surface of the body, while its entire hide had been stripped away. It looked like cured meat hung out to dry for ages. Behind it, black strips hung from a clothes rack.
Tsering didn't know what those strips were.
Intestines?
"One, two, three, four... five people. Is that enough?"
A muffled voice came from behind him.
"Enough. It's not as if only our West Courtyard is working. We split the goods evenly. We only