Iver had just started toward the door when the black-clad man wearing an animal mask suddenly grabbed him by the shoulder.
His movement was extremely forceful, and his hand hurt Iver's thin shoulder.
He realized sharply that if he took another step forward, he might be shoved to the ground. So he immediately stopped.
"Should I kill him... my adorable master?"
The Shadow Demon's voice rang out in a low tone beside his ear.
Don't rush. Let's see what he's going to do first.
Unlike the unease and panic he displayed on the outside, Iver's response to the Shadow Demon was utterly calm.
The black-clad man took a chain from his clothes and skillfully fastened it to the collar around Iver's neck.
Only then did he lead Iver out of the room. He gave Iver a push from behind, making him stumble forward, then followed behind with the chain in his hand.
In the narrow corridor, which was only wide enough for two people to walk side by side, one prison door after another opened. One black-clad person after another, each wearing a different animal mask, led young men and women out of their cells. Their clothes were thin, but their faces and figures were all exquisite and attractive.
They looked at one another, but they were too far apart to greet each other. All they could do was walk forward one by one, barefoot on the cold wooden floor.
The winter weather was frigid, and Iver couldn't help hugging his shoulders. This made him look even more frail—but that part wasn't an act. He was genuinely freezing.
Contrary to the impression of weakness created by his always sitting in a wheelchair, Iver's body had always been quite strong. After all, he used to play sports, and he was over