The Rains of Castamere

Joffrey's eyes were bloodshot. He gripped Lion's Tooth, now stained red with blood, standing where he was and panting heavily, his entire face twisted into a savage expression.

Once he had vented his pent-up emotions, that "deformed" courage receded as swiftly as the tide, and deep terror began to fill his heart.

He could not help stretching his neck to look down the stairs, but he could not see clearly... He instinctively took a small step forward, only to step onto a blood-slick flagstone. His foot slipped, and he instantly lost his balance and fell.

He rolled down several steps before barely managing to stop himself amid the panic, then scrambled awkwardly back to his feet.

"Damn it!"

Cursing, Joffrey viciously stomped on the step beside him, only to let out a pained cry as the movement tugged at his wounds.

After pausing for a moment, Joffrey looked at his blood-covered hands, and the fear in his heart grew even stronger.

He suddenly turned in panic toward the doors of the Throne Room. Seeing no movement there, he let out a slight breath of relief... but had no idea what to do.

Having regained a trace of "reason," he did not even dare to inspect Old Lion's corpse. This vast, silent hall... now made his skin crawl.

His body trembled as his frightened gaze swept over his surroundings, his mind in complete chaos: What was he supposed to do? What should he do now? Would those Red Cloaks outside suddenly rush in and kill him?!

Joffrey hurriedly glanced at Old Lion, who lay sprawled below in an unnatural posture, then hastily made his way toward the narrow staircase beside the Iron Throne.

At this moment, Joffrey wanted only one thing: to escape this place!

Tap tap tap tap. Joffrey practically