That day, Celine was trapped in the secret room as usual.
It was days no different from a caterpillar’s life. A routine of curling up her body, not moving an inch, and just wishing for time to pass.
Even the point of being buried underground was the same. It was truly an appearance that had lost even human dignity.
Even so, Celine never once complained.
No, rather, she was even relieved in this boring daily life. A worm-like human sustaining a worm-like life. How could she have complaints about such a proper proposition?
Celine’s heart was that tattered.
In the prison where even sunlight was rare, her senses gradually blurred, and recently, even Ian hadn’t come. For a…