CHAPTER 7: CHAPTER 7

"You’re new here, right? That’s why you don’t know."

Ethan’s mind raced as he processed these words. What? What don’t I know? Is it something important that I should have been aware of? His panic intensified as dozens of possibilities flooded through his thoughts.

Had he already broken some unspoken rule? Was there some crucial piece of information that could have saved him from additional punishment?

"Are you worried about your duty of cleaning the ancestral tomb and the Serene Mirror Lake for today, right?" The man spoke these words with a distinct hint of pride threading through his voice, like someone who had just demonstrated their superior knowledge and insight. His tone carried the unmistakable satisfaction of someone saying, See? I know exactly what you were thinking.

Ethan could only nod in reply, not trusting himself to speak without his voice betraying the mixture of relief, confusion, and lingering anger swirling inside him.

His throat still felt raw, and he wasn’t sure he could form coherent words even if he tried.

Seeing Ethan’s silent acknowledgment, the figure continued with that same note of self-satisfaction coloring his explanation.

"Then you don’t have to worry about that at all. I think you haven’t met anyone else here since you just arrived, but every disciple in this village is allowed a total of three leaves per year which they can take without any punishments or consequences. This is currently your second day of leave."

Ethan released a long, shuddering sigh of relief that seemed to deflate his entire body.

The tension that had been coiled in his muscles like a spring finally began to ease, though it didn’t disappear entirely.

At least he wasn’t facing additional punishment for missing his duties—that was something, at least.

But even as relief washed over him, his analytical mind couldn’t help but continue working through the implications.

He had already wasted two precious days of leave in his very first year, which meant he would only have one remaining day for the entire remainder of the year. Just one single day of reprieve from his daily obligations.

Then again, as he thought about it more deeply, what would a holiday even accomplish in this place? It wasn’t as if he was allowed to leave this ten-kilometer radius for three days a year—that would be an incredibly foolish policy for the sect to implement.

What if a dangerous disciple had been imprisoned here and decided to use the cover of their yearly leave to escape and harm innocent people? The liability alone would be staggering.

No, Ethan was certain that the elders and people in positions of power within the sect weren’t stupid enough to create such an obvious security vulnerability.

The "leave" probably just meant he could skip his cleaning duties and spend the day doing whatever he wanted within the confines of his frozen prison. Not exactly the kind of vacation that would rejuvenate the soul.

Ethan looked at the figure standing in his hut, his expression conveying far more than words ever could. His eyes asked the obvious questions that his voice couldn’t quite manage: Who are you, and why are you here in my hut after nearly killing me?

The man seemed to read Ethan’s unspoken inquiry perfectly. His face immediately shifted back to that apologetic expression from earlier, and he placed a hand over his heart in a gesture of contrition.

"I’m sorry—I completely forgot to introduce myself properly. I am Kael Shadowmere, and I have been residing in this Serene Mirror Lake village for almost two years now."

As Kael spoke that last sentence, Ethan’s ears picked up something that made him question the man’s sanity all over again.

There was definitely pride in those words—not just a little bit, but full, unmistakable pride radiating from every syllable. This man was genuinely proud of the fact that he had been imprisoned in this frozen hellscape longer than Ethan had.

Is this man completely insane? Ethan thought, staring at Kael with newfound bewilderment.

He’s proud of being a prisoner here longer than me? What kind of twisted logic is that?

It was like someone bragging about being stuck in quicksand for a longer period of time, or boasting about how many years they had spent in a dungeon.

The pride in Kael’s voice when he mentioned his two-year tenure at Serene Mirror Lake was so genuine and pronounced that it made Ethan wonder if the yin energy from the ancestral tomb had already driven this man completely mad.

Maybe that’s what happens to everyone who stays here long enough, Ethan realized with growing horror. Maybe the yin energy doesn’t just kill you—maybe it drives you insane first, making you take pride in your own suffering and imprisonment.

The thought sent chills down Ethan’s spine that had nothing to do with the ambient temperature.

If Kael’s bizarre behavior was any indication of what awaited him after extended exposure to this place, then perhaps a quick death would be preferable to slowly losing his mind over the course of fifty years.

Yet despite his obvious mental instability, Kael had shown him kindness—or at least what passed for kindness in this twisted situation.

He had cleaned up the debris, repaired the door, and even explained the leave policy that had probably saved Ethan from additional punishment. That had to count for something, didn’t it?

Or maybe that’s just part of the madness, Ethan thought grimly. Maybe he genuinely believes he’s being helpful while simultaneously being completely detached from reality.

Either way, Ethan found himself in the deeply uncomfortable position of being grateful to someone who had nearly killed him and who appeared to be suffering from some form of severe psychological break.

It was just another layer of surreal horror added to his already nightmarish situation.

As Kael stood there with that proud smile still playing across his features, clearly expecting some kind of response or acknowledgment of his impressive two-year achievement, Ethan could only continue staring at him in silent disbelief.

Two years, he thought. This man is proud of surviving two years in this place, and I’m supposed to last fifty. If this is what two years does to someone’s mind, what am I going to become after five decades of this frozen hell?

The question hung in the air between them like a death sentence, unspoken but somehow palpable in the cold, oppressive atmosphere of the hut.