January 1, 1995, nine in the morning.
A new year, a new atmosphere.
The deepest gates of Plateau Prison opened with a clang.
Gilbert was roughly dragged out by two fully armed Jail Guards.
He could barely stand, relying entirely on the Jail Guards dragging him forward by the arms. Three days of inhumane torture, coupled with the agony of fear, had left him completely broken. His cheeks were sunken, eye sockets darkened, lips cracked and peeling, with traces of blood. His hair and beard were matted into clumps, covered in previous filth, emitting a pungent sour and decaying smell.
His pants were conspicuously soaked, the darker color still dripping with turbid liquid—a complete loss of control due to overwhelming fear.
His face was ashen, devoid of any vitality. Only his eyes moved slightly due to extreme terror, empty and alarming, with no trace of his former ferocity or scheming.
"Damn it! Move faster!"
The Jail Guard cursed impatiently.
