On the far edge of the city, a forgotten building sagged against the snow-covered ground. Its metal doors were crooked, one clinging stubbornly to its rusted hinges while the other leaned inward like a broken limb.
A damp, metallic chill hung in the air. The scent of mold, rot, and rust pressed into every breath.
Inside was a maze of narrow hallways lined with cracked plaster and warped floorboards. Somewhere deep inside, a lightbulb flickered — an anemic glow that warped the shadows, making them lurch and twitch like something alive.
In the largest room, Ji Jingxu hung suspended by thick, rusted chains that groaned whenever he moved. The cuffs dug into his wrists, the metal biting until skin split and bled. His arms ached, shoulders screaming from being held above his head for what felt like hours — maybe longer.
The tips of his toes brushed the floor, but barely; it was just enough to keep him from hanging limp, yet never enough to relieve his muscles.
