the heart's desire

The main hall of the Hong Clan fortress was shrouded in an unsettling gloom. Torches mounted along the stone walls flickered, casting restless shadows that seemed to writhe like living creatures, moving to the rhythm of the flames. The air was heavy, thick with the scent of charred wood and the faint metallic tang of blood—a constant reminder of the clan's brutal practices.

Pao Hong sat on his carved wooden throne, his corpulent figure dominating the room. His thick fingers drummed rhythmically on the armrest, the sound echoing faintly through the chamber and marking the cadence of his impatience. His piercing green eyes gleamed with a mixture of irritation and boredom as he occasionally cast glances at Si-U, who leaned casually against a nearby wall.

Si-U, as usual, seemed entirely unbothered by the tension in the air. Arms crossed and a faintly ironic smile playing on his lips, he watched his father with a detached amusement that bordered on insolence. His relaxed demeanor was a stark contrast to the oppressive atmosphere of the room, as if he existed on a plane above the clan's violent schemes.

The abrupt creak of heavy doors opening shattered the silence. All eyes turned toward the entrance as Chain stepped through, his imposing figure commanding immediate attention.

His face was streaked with blood, and his once-pristine clothing was now speckled with dark stains, each one a testament to the grim task he had just completed. In his right hand, he held Van's severed head by the hair, the grotesque trophy dripping blood that splattered onto the stone floor in rhythmic drops.

Chain strode to the center of the room, stopping a few paces from the throne. He raised the head slightly, ensuring Pao Hong had a clear view of his handiwork, before letting it fall to the ground with a dull thud.

Chain: "Master Hong, the task is complete."

His voice was steady and devoid of emotion, as if the gruesome act he had just committed were nothing more than another item on his list of duties.

Pao Hong leaned forward, his green eyes locking onto Van's lifeless face with a cruel satisfaction. He studied the features for several moments, as though savoring the outcome of his command.

Pao Hong: "Well done, Chain. You've carried out your mission."

Leaning back into his throne with a contented sigh, he resumed drumming his fingers on the armrest, though now with a calmer rhythm.

Pao Hong: "Let this be a warning to everyone."

The silence that followed was thick and oppressive, broken only by the faint sound of blood dripping from Chain's sword onto the stone floor.

From his spot against the wall, Si-U observed the scene with his ever-present smirk. Tilting his head slightly, his ocean-blue eyes glinted with a mixture of amusement and disdain.

Si-U: "Father, you have such a... unique way of solving problems."

His voice was laced with sarcasm, a deliberate provocation aimed at testing his father's temper.

Pao Hong turned his head slowly toward his son, his eyes narrowing in a stern glare. For a moment, it seemed he might respond, but instead, he let out a dismissive snort and looked away, as if deciding Si-U's remarks weren't worth the effort.

Chain, still standing in the center of the room, gave a curt, rigid bow. His posture was flawless, yet his violet eyes betrayed a cold, calculating glint, hinting at ambitions that extended beyond mere obedience. Without a word, he turned and strode out of the hall, his bloodied sword catching the torchlight and casting sinister reflections along the walls.

His footsteps echoed down the stone corridor, the rhythmic sound growing fainter as his figure disappeared into the shadows.

Pao Hong remained seated, his gaze fixed on Van's severed head. Blood continued to trickle from the grisly trophy, forming a small crimson river that meandered through the cracks in the stone floor.

Si-U, meanwhile, stayed leaning against the wall, his smirk softening as he regarded his father. There was something contemplative in his expression now, a blend of curiosity and faint pity as he watched the older man.

The torches continued to flicker, their light casting restless, distorted shapes on the walls. The room was steeped in a silence that seemed to echo far beyond its confines, carrying the weight of the decisions made there to the farthest reaches of the fortress.