Several days passed since little Ren's sister had left the Lysandra family mansion.
But Ren… he wasn't free.
He was just out of the cell, not out of Celestine's dominance. His every day was hell. Eating shattered glass, then getting healed. Chewing raw meat, getting stomach aches, then healed again. His body used as a test subject for Celestine's cruel curiosities. She had nailed many swears—actual nails—into his skin.
The only sliver of heaven in that cursed place was one person.
A maid.
The only one who ever gave him warmth when Celestine wasn't around. She fed him real food. She talked with him. For little Ren, even in the deepest depths of hell… there was an angel.
She wasn't like the other maids. She looked older, maybe in her late thirties. Wore the same black-and-white uniform, but her face had faint wrinkles, her hands always trembling a little. Her body frail, like one hard wind could blow her away.
Her name was Ruthie.
