The grinding sound of the carriage's tires moving through the rough, uneven terrain echoed as it moved.
Inside the plush carriage, Dorian was seated on one side, his expression placid. On the opposite bench, Maria and Ciel had taken their positions—a stark contrast of stoic duty and draconic indifference.
As discussed with Revina, no one was to be granted access to the room where Seraphina lay. Even upon waking, she was not permitted to leave until Dorian returned.
For now, Dorian and his team would head to the Red District to handle the political test... and the supernatural infection Revina had warned him about.
It took them over an hour to leave the pristine marble of the capital behind and arrive at the Red District. The fear on the royal driver's face was palpable.
He drove the horse-drawn carriage through the district's main thoroughfare, his eyes darting left and right, clearly terrified of an ambush.
The rumors hadn't lied. The Red District was a hellhole.
