Soren woke up early today. He went to the bathroom, cleaned up, and then sat on his bed—waiting.
Scarvguard had informed him of his trial, which was going to happen today. The guards had also set reminders for him.
To say he was not nervous would be a lie. But he had no choice but to see this through.
The familiar metallic clicking was heard, and the door opened up.
A man holding a briefcase walked in. He was in a three-piece black suit highlighted by the red tie and handkerchief at his breast pocket—the first Soren had ever seen on a person.
His brown hair was perfectly combed to the back. He was cleanly shaved except for a small mustache that matched his hair color.
With a masculine jawline and confident build under such well-tailored clothing, Soren was of the impression that this man was a person of combat.
But he was not.
