In the side palace, Hathaway knelt in front of the silver mirror, gently combing her long hair.
Beside her, in the simple hourglass, the fine white sand was slowly flowing, and on the stone wall nearby, there were numerous distinct marks.
These were the marks of time recorded by the Golden Elves. It had been twenty-nine days since she was confined here.
During this nearly month-long period, she initially succumbed to despair, gave in to hopelessness, and even contemplated suicide, considering ending her own life.
But, after several fruitless attempts, when she lay on the cold ground, feeling the overwhelming sense of powerless rising from her limbs and bones—
It was only then, after the upheaval of the Council meeting, that Hathaway truly calmed down for the first time.
Her desperate attempts over the past month to abandon herself, her frantic intentions to end her own life—
