Smoke crawled up through the cracks in the stone. The corridor of the prison district still drifted with the remnants of the explosion. The smell of charred stone. A low rumble of something collapsing in the distance. Raid adjusted the short blade back into the inner folds of his coat while following Min's back ahead of him. Lilia was right behind him. Raid could feel her footsteps trailing half a step behind his own. The hem of the coat he'd wrapped around Lilia's wrist in the previous chapter—the white cloth of an awkward makeshift bandage—was still visible even through the smoke. "Your Majesty, we turn right," Min said in a low voice. His tone was emotionless, purely reportorial. His slender frame pressed against the corner of the wall as he quickly checked the corridor ahead, then gestured them forward. Gen followed behind Min, his round eyes darting about nervously. His face was calm, but the tension pulled faintly at his cheeks. The moment the four of them turned the corne