Chapter 935: A Glimpse of Hope in the Dark
Loud noise woke Otto Passi.
He lay still for a moment, eyes heavy. The candles on the candlestick had burned to their ends — the remaining flames too thin to do much with the dark. This far underground, day and night were the same, and the candle was the only clock he had. Guards came every six hours with food and replaced the stubs when they came.
That was only at the beginning.
Now they seldom came. Sometimes he woke from hunger and found the cell already black.
How long has it been? He pressed his palm against his forehead, as if he could squeeze the answer out. The prolonged absence of sunlight had worn him down to something raw and unsteady, and waking in total darkness — again, again, again — carried a specific kind of weight. Not quite fear. Closer to the sensation of being forgotten by the world.
But he had to live.
His father. His entire family. Their fates sat in Appen’s hands.
Otto pushed himself upright, swung his legs off the edge of the bed, and limped to the iron railings. He had a request ready — not just for food and candle, but for a razor. The beard had grown past his cheeks. Bits of food and grease had worked their way into it, and now his own face smelled of rot. If the guard was worried about a blade as a weapon, Otto was willing to let him do the shaving himself. He was still a noble. A request for basic grooming was not unreasonable.
Voices filtered in from beyond the iron gate.
The guards weren’t bothering to lower them. Apparently they did not care whether he heard.
“What were those people thinking? This is the eldest son of the Passi family.”
“Jokes and ridicule. Isn’t that what clowns do?”
“If these acrobats had done something like that under normal circumstances, they’d be fed to the fishes by morning. Homeless wanderers.”
“Well, when were times normal? Would the eldest son be in a dungeon during normal times? His Majesty enjoys their performances. Without the king’s favor, they wouldn’t dare.”
“You’re just speaking nonsense.”
“Maybe. But what are you going to do about it? Trade your dinner for his?”
A sigh. “Forget it. It’s a few mouthfuls of saliva. He won’t die from it.” Keys rattling. “And if this is what His Majesty wants to see — don’t go asking for trouble.”
The gate shrieked open. The warden walked in holding a dinner tray, and stopped when he found Otto already at the railing.
“Milord, you’re up.” He recovered quickly, hiding whatever he’d felt. “Might as well have dinner now. I’ll replace the candles tomorrow — the chief steward forgot to send new ones.”
Otto said nothing.
The shame struck him before the meaning of the words did. His cheeks burned as if pressed against an open oven door. He had pieced together the story from the short exchange: a clown from an acrobatics troupe had spat into his food as a performance, for Appen Moya’s amusement. His dinner had been an act.
He forgot to ask for the razor.
The warden didn’t wait for a reply. He swapped the trays and left without looking back. No one spent more time than they had to in this room, regardless of how it was dressed up.
Silence poured back in.
Standing there in it, Otto wanted to scream — wanted to curse the warden for his negligence, wanted to shout Appen’s name at the stone ceiling until his voice gave out. He did neither.
Because screaming would only delay the next candle delivery. And Appen would love nothing more than to watch him thrash against the cage.
The dinner sat on its tray. He had no intention of touching it.
He turned to drag himself back to the bed — and stopped.
In the corner of his eye, the oatmeal had turned black.
He went still. Moved closer. Lifted the bowl with both hands and angled it toward the thin flame.
Not shadow. Not the dark. The oatmeal was the color of ink.
Acrobatics troupe. Clowns. Tricks.
An idea broke open in him, sudden and electric.
“Yorko said you were an ordinary acrobat. Is that true?”
“It was a coincidence. His Majesty probably chose me because my performance wasn’t bad.”
“Can you demonstrate?”
“I’ll show you the simplest one — the thief who spits ink.”
Otto plunged his finger into the bowl.
His fingertip found something: small, rough, faintly solid. He groped for it carefully and pinched it between two fingers, drew it out slowly. It was nearly transparent. Soaked through with the black water, almost invisible — thin fabric, the kind you couldn’t see in dim light, only feel.
He held his breath and walked to the candlestick. Spread the chiffon out with trembling hands.
“How did the water change color?”
“It’s not done yet. Look at the cloth — nothing on it, yes? I’ll wet it in the water, dry it with the flame. What do you think will happen?”
“Nothing… wait. Is that… a word?”
“Can you read it?”
“Is this… your name?”
“Hill Fawkes. That’s me.”
The faint black marks began to appear as the heat reached the cloth. The candle wavered. The shadows on the walls swung.
Hurry. His heart was shouting it. Hurry, hurry—
The letter marks surfaced from the dark fabric, brief and clear.
Then the candle went out.
Blackness.
Otto laughed. He pressed both hands over his mouth to muffle it, but his shoulders shook. He crawled back to the railing. He folded the chiffon carefully, pressed it between his teeth, and swallowed it down with the oatmeal.
The warmth moved through his throat, into his chest, down into his stomach. But it was not the oatmeal that spread heat through him. It was the knowledge of what the cloth had said.
There had been only a few words. Beautiful handwriting. The kind of hand he remembered from childhood lessons, prim and a little formal.
Don’t be afraid. I’m coming.
In the dark, with his face wet and his beard matted and his body smaller than it had been, Otto Passi drank his oatmeal in silence.
His determination had been worth it.
Chapter 935: A Glimpse of Hope in the Dark
Translator: TransN Editor: TransN
Otto Passi was woken up by loud noises.
He struggled to lift his heavy eyelids and looked around. The candles on the candlestick had already burnt to the bottom, and the remaining flickers of flame weren’t enough to light up the dark room.
He could not tell day from night in this underground cell, and the candle became his only measure of time. The guards would replace the candles every six hours when they come to bring him food.
But that was only in the beginning.
Now they seldom came, be it with candle or food. Sometimes, he would wake up from hunger and find that the cell was still completely dark.
How long had he been locked here? Otto pressed and shook his forehead, trying to squeeze out any last bit of remaining energy. The prolonged lack of sunlight had made him haggard, and constantly waking up in an isolated and pitch-black environment made him feel helpless and abandoned. As if he forgotten by the world.
But he must live on.
Because both his father’s entire Luoxi family’s fates are in Appen’s hands.
Otto propped up his frail body, rolled out of bed and limped slowly to the railings. Other than replenishing the plates and jugs, he also hoped that the caretaker could give him a razor blade. His long unshaven beard had long since covered his cheeks, and bits and pieces of leftover food and grease
could be found stuck there. Over time, his face smelled like rotten orange peels. If his caretaker were worried about the blade being a potential weapon, Otto wouldn’t even mind letting the caretaker shave him instead.
Afterall, he was still a noble, and the request for grooming shouldn’t be something unreasonable.
Otto then heard the sounds of a conversation outside the iron gate.
“What were those people thinking? The person imprisoned here is the eldest son of the Passi family!”
The ones who were speaking did not try to cover up their voices so it seemed that they did not mind their conversation being heard by Otto.
“Jokes and ridicule… Isn’t that what clowns do?”
“Are they crazy? Normally, if these acrobats dared to offend the earl’s son, I’m afraid that they would be fed to the fishes next day. They’re nothing more than a group of homeless wanderers!”
“Well that was when times were normal. Back then, would the eldest son be kept in the dungeon? Now His Majesty likes to see these guys perform. Without the approval of the King of Dawn, I don’t think they would dare to do such a thing.”
“Pui, you’re just speaking nonsense.”
“I’m just saying. You don’t have to believe me, and even if you don’t, what can you do? Are you going to trade dinner with that lord in the cell?”
“Sigh, forget it. It’s just a few mouthfuls of saliva. He won’t die from eating it.” Then the sound of a bunch of keys jingling around could be heard.
“That’s right, and if this is what His Majesty wants to see, they aren’t you just asking for trouble? Go ahead. I still have to retrieve the food tray.”
The iron gate made a screeching sound, and the warden walked in while holding a tray of food.
“Oh, Milord, you’re already awake?” He was a little surprised to see Otto already leaning against the railings, but he quickly hid his awkward expression. “Well then, you might as well finish up today’s dinner now. I’ll change the candles tomorrow. The chief steward forgot to send new ones over.”
Otto did not answer. He suddenly felt his heart fill with sorrow and he even forgot to request for a razor blade. Although the exchange between the two people was short, he was still able to figure out the gist of the conversation. The clown of the circus troupe happened to bump into the man who was responsible for delivering his food, and he spat a few mouthfuls of saliva into his food in an attempt to amuse Appen Moya.
The shame made his cheeks burn as if they were being baked in an oven.
The warden did not care about Otto’s reply and quickly changed the dinner tray before leaving soon after. Although the room was decorated like the room from a duke’s mansion, the sense of repression that could be felt inside was unbearable, and no one would want to spend more time in there than they needed to.
As the footsteps went away, the silence once again washed over Otto.
In that very moment, he wanted to scream out loud, curse the warden for his negligence in duty, and reproach Appen for his ignorance… yet he did not do so.
Because that would be meaningless—the former would only delay the next replacement time of the food and candles, while the latter would just gladly let him fall into the trap of his “old friend.”
As for the dinner that was used to humiliate him, he had no intention to touch it.
Otto could not help but wonder if he had been doing the right thing.
Just as he was ready to go back to bed, his whole body suddenly started trembling. In the corner of his eye, the oatmeal started to turn into a bowl of
black water!
Passi’s eldest son rubbed his eyes, slowly moved closer to the plate, and carefully lifted the bowl of oatmeal.
That was not an illusion, nor was it the shadow of the weak flame. The oatmeal had turned black, like some thick ink.
Suddenly, an idea flashed through his mind.
Acrobatics troupe, clowns, tricks… was all this arranged by that person?
“Yorko said you were an ordinary acrobat. Is that true? How did you come to know His Majesty, Roland?”
“It was a coincidence. As to why His Majesty would choose me was probably because my acrobatic performance wasn’t bad.”
“Oh, can you demonstrate it?”
“Ok, I’ll perform the simplest trick of the thief who spits ink.”
Otto stared blankly at the oatmeal for a moment, and suddenly inserted his finger into the bowl! After groping around for a little while, at the tip of his finger, he could feel a rough touch.
“How… how did this happen? Why did the water suddenly change color?”
“It’s not done yet. Look at this chiffon. Can you see there’s nothing on it? Now I’m going to put it in the water to make it wet and then use the fire to dry it. Guess what will happen next?”
“There’s nothing, right… uh, wait, that’s… a word?”
“Can you see what’s written?”
“Let me see, is this… your name?”
“You’re right, Hill Fawkes is my name.”
Otto gently pinched that rough item, and slowly pulled it out of the oatmeal— it looked almost transparent, and he couldn’t tell if it was immersed in the oatmeal. The chiffon could only be felt with his fingers.
He held his breath, walked quickly to the candlestick, and spread it out a little.
The faint black water marks began to fade, while the candlelight started to waver.
“Hurry… hurry… hurry… hurry up.” His heart was shouting anxiously. The swaying shadow seemed to come from all directions, and it was as if the black chiffon he held in his hands was the only light in the whole world.
At the moment the letter marks appeared, the candle went out.
Darkness then engulfed the entire dungeon.
Otto could not help but laugh heartily.
He pressed down on his trembling shoulders and stuffed the chiffon into his mouth. Then he crawled back to the railing and swallowed it with the oatmeal.
The warmth spread through his throat and stomach and filled his whole body with strength. However, compared to the oatmeal, it was his heart that felt warmest.
As he drank the oatmeal silently, a tear rolled down from the corner of his eye.
His determination was finally worth it.
There were only a few words on the chiffon. They were written with beautiful handwriting and gave him a nostalgic feeling for his childhood.
“Don’t be afraid. I’m coming.”