Keegan nodded, and the other person quietly left, closing the door behind them.

Paul’s gaze lingered on the departing figure for a long time.

Keegan filled a bowl with eggnog and placed it on a tray, then gently slid it towards Paul. “Mr. Morant, try it.”

Paul stared at the bowl of eggnog in front of him. Memories began to surface—perhaps it was his rundown childhood home, his parents who called him a burden and refused to support his education, even resenting him for eating an extra piece of meat at dinner. Or maybe it was the little boy who once snuck into his room with a bowl of eggnog, telling him not to cry and promising to always share his sweet soup…

These memories had long been buried, almost forgotten like they belonged to another life. But now, they came rushing back, pulling him under.

he woke up, his body was scarred, his soul twisted by inhuman experiences that clung to him like a parasite. The pain from his mutilated ring finger seemed to flare up again, spreading through

body trembling with the intensity

his distress and whispered, “Mr.

his eyes bloodshot, face pale, and sweat beading on his

a meal with you. It’s

tightened. He knew Keegan was playing mind games. If Keegan had

spoonful of the eggnog. The taste was just as he

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