Tonight, it arrived in the form of steady, echoing footsteps. You turned toward the sound and saw him—Oswald—standing just beyond the iron bars, a smirk of cruel satisfaction curling his lips. "Do you want to hear some news?" he asked, his tone dripping with mockery.

He stepped closer, gripping the bars, his face inches from yours. "Your father was sentenced today. Found guilty of treason. The punishment? Death—for him, and for the rest of your family." He let the words linger in the cold air, his eyes glinting with malice. "All of this is because of you."

You remained silent, your body slumped against the damp floor, the weight of chains biting into your skin. The thought gnawed at you—should you have agreed to his proposal? Would that have spared your family this suffering?

Oswald let out a low chuckle, his gaze sweeping over you with disdain. "Look at yourself," he sneered. "Filthy. Broken. Utterly pathetic."

He leaned casually against the bars, as if the very sight of you entertained him. "But… perhaps I could be persuaded to show some mercy. If you beg me—no, grovel—I might consider sparing them. Lower yourself, cast away what little pride you have left, and who knows? I might even forgive this insult."

Turning to leave, he glanced back over his shoulder, his smirk crueler than ever. "Well? What will it be?"