Chapter 353

Chapter 353
Aurora

It took several minutes before we finally came to a stop, and by the time we did, my legs were still barely capable of supporting me and I had to depend almost entirely on the two men holding me upright, their arms keeping most of my weight from collapsing onto the floor whenever my knees threatened to give out.

I kept my head lowered and allowed my body to remain as limp and exhausted as possible. The last thing I wanted was for either of them to realize that I was beginning to regain some of my strength, but beneath the carefully maintained appearance of weakness, I was paying attention to everything around me.

We were still underground.

The corridor stretched narrowly in front of us, its rough concrete walls looking almost identical to those of the room where I had been restrained, and the same stale warmth seemed to cling to the air so heavily that every breath felt slightly too thick in my lungs.

Several doors lined either side of the passage, each one made from heavy material and secured with locks that looked far more complicated than anything an ordinary room would require.

So this really was some kind of basement.

Or at least, that was what it looked like from where I stood.

I had been right about that much.

But then we reached the end of the corridor, and one of the men stopped in front of a heavy door that I hadn’t noticed before because it blended almost perfectly into the surrounding wall.

He reached for the handle and pulled it open.

The change on the other side was so immediate that I instinctively lifted my head.

A staircase rose in front of us.

For the first few steps, I simply stared, almost forgetting to maintain the frightened, exhausted expression I’d been wearing. After what felt like an eternity spent beneath concrete walls and artificial light, the sight of stairs leading upward was the closest thing to hope I’d seen since waking up in that room.

The men began guiding me forward, and I forced myself to follow, placing one foot carefully in front of the other as they supported most of my weight.

The difference became noticeable almost immediately.

The rough concrete walls gradually disappeared behind us, replaced by smooth stone that looked far older and far better maintained, while the stale warmth of the underground corridor slowly gave way to cooler air that seemed to move freely around us. With every step upward, breathing became easier, and when a faint current of fresh air brushed against my damp skin, I realized just how desperately I had been craving something as simple as that.

I hadn’t even realized how suffocating the basement had become until I finally felt air that didn’t smell like concrete and dust.

I drew in a deeper breath without meaning to, allowing the coolness to fill my lungs, and for one brief moment I nearly closed my eyes from the relief.

Then I reminded myself that I couldn’t afford to relax.

Not yet.

I continued climbing, keeping my movements slow and unsteady while quietly memorizing the route, counting the steps whenever I could and taking note of every detail that might help me later. If I ever got another opportunity to escape, I needed to know which direction led upward, how many turns separated the basement from the rest of the building, and how far I would have to travel before reaching somewhere I could potentially find an exit.

Eventually, we reached the top of the staircase.

One of the men opened another door, and the moment we stepped through it, I slowed despite myself.

The world above was nothing like the place I’d just left.

A massive hallway stretched out in front of us, wide enough for several people to walk through comfortably without brushing shoulders, with impossibly high ceilings that made the entire space feel more like the interior of a palace than anything connected to the concrete basement beneath it. Enormous windows had been built into the walls, allowing pale daylight to spill across the polished stone floors and illuminate the dark wooden details surrounding the doorways.

Everything looked old.

Not abandoned or neglected, but old in the way of something that had been carefully maintained for generations, with every surface kept spotless and every piece of furniture or decoration placed with deliberate precision.

For a moment, I simply stared.

A castle.

At least, that was the only word that came to mind.

I couldn’t be certain that was what it was, but there was something unmistakably elegant about the architecture, from the towering ceilings and enormous windows to the dark woodwork and polished stone beneath my feet.

Then I noticed the guards.

There were far more of them than I had expected.

They stood at almost every entrance along the corridor, positioned at intervals along the walls and stationed at both ends of the hallway, all dressed in dark uniforms and watching us with an alertness that made it clear they weren’t simply there for decoration.

Why were there so many guards?

And why did they all seem to know exactly who I was?

I lowered my gaze before anyone could notice how carefully I was studying them, but I continued taking everything in from the corner of my eye, memorizing uniforms, weapons, doorways, staircases, and every possible route that might eventually lead me outside.

The two men supporting me didn’t seem remotely concerned by the number of people watching us.

They simply continued walking as though carrying a weakened, heavily guarded prisoner through a castle was an entirely ordinary part of their day.

I tried to make sense of the situation while they guided me farther down the hallway, but every answer only seemed to create another question.

Who owned this place?

Why was I being kept beneath it?

And, most importantly, why did they care so much about keeping the babies alive?

The questions crowded my mind as we continued down the corridor, but I forced myself to focus on the details around me instead, silently building a map in my head from everything I could see.

We passed several large wooden doors, spaced far enough apart that I couldn’t tell what rooms were behind them. Whenever we reached a hallway that split, I made sure to remember which way we went. The windows were useful too. They appeared at regular points along the outer wall, and although I couldn’t see much through them from where I was, just knowing there were windows felt important after being trapped underground for so long.

Eventually, we stopped in front of another large wooden door.

Unlike the others, this one was significantly wider, reinforced with dark metal fittings and guarded by two people standing several feet apart on either side.

My heartbeat quickened.

One of the men supporting me reached for the handle.

I tensed instinctively, forcing myself to remain passive as the door opened inward.

Then I saw what was on the other side.

The room looked nothing like the basement.

Instead of rough concrete and dim yellow light, there were clean white walls and a perfectly polished floor that reflected the bright overhead lighting, making the entire space look almost unnaturally spotless. A large metal hospital bed stood in the center of the room, covered with crisp white sheets and positioned beneath several overhead lights, while an entire collection of medical machines surrounded it.

Their screens were already glowing.

Small indicators blinked across the displays, cables ran neatly from one machine to another, and several tubes and wires had been arranged along the sides of the bed as though everything had been prepared long before I ever entered the room.

Along one wall stood a series of tall cabinets filled with bottles, medical supplies, sterile equipment, and containers whose labels I couldn’t read from where I was standing, while additional machines occupied the spaces between them, each one looking expensive enough that I immediately understood this wasn’t some improvised medical station.

It looked like a hospital room.