Trigger warning: graphic violence, torture, blood and gore

Carlos Ivan’s father had never shown him any affection from the beginning. However, he never imagined he would be abandoned so miserably. The hope that his father might make even the slightest effort to save him now seemed laughable.

Carlos blamed himself for his naivety.

When the Duke broke his promise and Carlos was assigned to the front lines, he should have immediately realized that his father had condoned it.

He had never once been acknowledged as his father’s son.

Once the enemies understood Carlos’s predicament, their attitude changed. They concluded that holding Carlos hostage wouldn’t get them what they wanted.

Carlos, now in a position worse than a mere soldier, became the target of the enemy’s frustrations, worn down by the war.

Though abandoned, the sense of conquest and thrill of having a prince at their mercy was enough to drive Carlos into despair.

“Come on, just give up and tell us everything you know. Keeping silent for a country that abandoned you only causes you more pain, doesn’t it?”

With those words, the jailer lashed Carlos’s back with a whip.

The sensation of the whip striking his wet skin was chilling.

“Ugh.”

A painful groan escaped his lips.

Initially, they had hoped to extract vital information from him, thinking he was the king’s son. But unfortunately, as an unrecognized prince, he knew no secrets worth sharing.

They even demanded he reveal a way to cross the kingdom’s gates or secret passages for the royal family within the palace. However, he knew nothing.

Before joining the battle, he had never even held a sword, and entering the palace was a rare event, perhaps happening once a year.

In the end, even when they realized there was nothing to learn from Carlos, they didn’t stop the interrogation. To them, Carlos had long become a toy to relieve the fatigue of war.

Their demands grew increasingly trivial, while the intensity of the torture escalated day by day.

As time passed, his hope for survival dwindled.

Carlos struggled to open his eyes. His swollen eyelids made his vision blurry.

“Just kill me,” he muttered in a cracked voice.

He just wanted to die.

He was too exhausted now.

But the jailer seemed to enjoy Carlos’s reaction, twisting his lips into a smile.

“We can’t kill you just yet.”

With those words, the jailer cut the rope holding one of Carlos’s ankles.

“Ugh.”

As soon as one leg dropped, a strong shock overwhelmed him. The pressure from having all his weight on one ankle felt like it would break his bones. The pain was incomparable to when both legs were suspended.

“I have something very interesting planned for you. You’ll probably feel pain like never before.”

The jailer, who uttered those chilling words, held a razor blade in his hand.

“Do you know what I just did?”

He continued, miming a slicing motion with the razor blade.

“With this, I’ll cut your ankle. How many times do you think I need to slice with just a razor to sever an ankle? Dozens? No, hundreds?”

Even in his dazed state, Carlos grasped the jailer’s intention.

“We’ll find out, won’t we?”

The jailer, with a sinister smile, wasted no time slicing Carlos’s flesh with the razor.

With the red droplets of blood, his skin peeled away.

Carlos gritted his teeth, trying to suppress his groans. Normally, such a cut would cause only a slight wince. But being suspended upside down made the skin tear abnormally.

“How is it? Can you still endure it?”

The jailer leisurely circled Carlos, dragging out the time. Then, just as Carlos started to adjust to the pain, the jailer sliced his ankle again with the razor.

“Ugh!”

The more Carlos groaned in agony, the broader the jailer’s smile grew. His face looked devilish.

“This time, I want to test how many slices it takes for the ankle to fall off.”

Thus, every ten minutes, the jailer sliced Carlos’s ankle.

Each time the razor blade dug into his flesh, Carlos instinctively knew he would never use his leg again.

And by the sixth time the jailer repeated the act, finally, with a snap, his Achilles tendon was severed.

A horrific scream echoed through the air.

Carlos thrashed about in pain incomparable to anything before.

The jailer sneered at Carlos, writhing in agony, likening him to a fish out of water.

It would have been more merciful to chop off my ankle with an axe in one go.

How much better would it be if it were my neck that was severed instead?

As Carlos Ivan’s consciousness began to fade, his eyes slowly closed.

The jailer splashed water on him again.

The icy water jolted him back to awareness, and a chilling voice cruelly pierced his ears.

“Hey, what are you doing fainting already? You’ve still got one more leg left.”

Ah, not just one leg, but soon both legs would be useless.

Next, they would probably sever the tendons in both arms. They would likely save the neck for last.

In that brief moment, he sensed his own death approaching. It wasn’t far off.

Just as the light in his eyes seemed to dim, as if he had given up on everything.

“Hey, stop right there.”

Someone halted the jailer’s torture.

The jailer’s expression soured at the interruption of his fun.

“I was just getting to the good part. Why stop?”

“Stop and let him go now.”

“What?”

“It’s an order from above.”

“What are you talking about?”

It seemed the two were having a conversation, but Carlos couldn’t make out the words. He was simply relieved that the torture had stopped.

“Damn it.”

After finishing his conversation with the other man, the jailer cursed as he untied Carlos’s ropes. Carlos’s body collapsed to the ground, looking pitiful.

“You’re a lucky bastard. Your savior arrived just before the other leg could be cut off.”

At the jailer’s words, Carlos blinked slowly.

‘Savior?’

Did I have anything like a savior? Even my family had abandoned me.

Could it be that my father had a change of heart at the last minute?

If Ines knew about this, she might have taken some action.

Though he was bewildered, having never expected to leave here alive, a glimmer of hope reignited in his heart.

Carlos mustered all his strength to stand, but his leg wouldn’t support him, and he kept falling over.

A man, unable to watch any longer, forcibly helped Carlos to his feet. As he was being supported out, he saw a woman approaching.

What was a woman doing here?

With half-closed eyes, he stared at her, sensing something was off, and then his body froze.

Because that woman was…

“…Mother?”

It was his biological mother, Countess Ankerid.

Thinking he might be hallucinating, he closed his eyes and opened them again, but it was undoubtedly his mother.

“Why is Mother here…?”

Why was his mother, who should be in the kingdom, here? His eyes wavered aimlessly.

“Carl…!”

With an unchanged gentle voice, the Countess called her son’s name. She seemed shocked by Carlos’s disheveled appearance.

At her voice, Carlos slowly examined his mother.

His always beautiful mother looked quite haggard.

It seemed she had gone through a lot to get here. Yet, she was still beautiful.

Even a shabby cloak couldn’t hide her beauty.

“Why on earth is Mother here…?”

To Carlos’s question, the man beside the Countess answered instead.

“Well, she came all the way here to save her son, didn’t she?”

The man was the lord of the territory where Carlos was imprisoned. He wrapped his dirty hand around the Countess’s shoulder.

“I hear the king of Tezever cherishes his gypsy-born concubine very much. Your mother said she has more bargaining value than a bastard like you.”

“What…?”

Carlos looked at his mother, seeking an explanation. She spoke to him, holding back tears.

“Your father still seeks me. So, if he knows I’m here, he’ll surely find a way.”

“That’s nonsense…!”

“I chose this. So go quickly.”

The Countess cut off Carlos’s words and turned her head. At the same time, Carlos began to struggle.

“Wait, I’ll stay! Just send Mother back!”

But those who realized Carlos was worthless no longer listened to him.

“Take him away.”

At that command, the man supporting Carlos struck the back of his neck. Slowly, his consciousness faded. Tears streamed down his mother’s pale cheeks.

That was the last he saw of his mother.