ทะลุมิติมาเป็นนักฆ่าแม่ลูกอ่อน

When Connor Turner saw the craftsman's gift, a thought crossed his mind—he hadn't seen me in a while. "Strange. Clara hasn't come to cause trouble lately. Did she finally learn her place?"

"Exactly. She was spoiled rotten. A little suffering will do her good."

His warrior, Duncan Dixon, hesitated before speaking cautiously. "Alpha, Luna… she's still in that well."

Connor's pen stilled for a fraction of a second, then resumed as if the words meant nothing. "I assumed she'd had enough by now. Let her reflect a little longer."

Duncan looked troubled. "She hasn't made a sound for days. And there's a terrible stench coming from down the well. Do you want to check on her?"

Connor remained indifferent. "She's probably faking it—pretending to be all pitiful so we'd let her out. Someone like her would do anything to survive. She's likely already skinned and eaten the venomous snakes in there. With all that blood and rot, no wonder it reeks."

Duncan wanted to say more, but Connor cut him off, irritated. "Enough. I'll have her released before my birthday banquet tomorrow. As long as she learns her lesson and apologizes to Belinda, I'll let this go."

Checking his pocket watch, Connor dismissed Duncan and turned to welcome Belinda Carter, who had just returned from seeing the witch doctor, Tamara Howe.

"Dr. Howe, how is Belinda?" he asked.

Tamara's fingers curled around the gold coins Belinda had slipped her, her lips twisting into a satisfied smile.

Belinda coughed weakly, her frail body sinking into Connor's embrace. "Alpha, I feel much better. You don't have to bear Luna's fault."

Connor gazed at her tenderly. "You're too kind, Belinda. But don't worry. Clara has been punished. She won't trouble you again."

As they shared their tender moment, I chuckled softly behind them.

But no one noticed.

There was nothing I could do to Belinda anymore.

After all, I was already dead.

I struggled in despair for days, but even in my final moments, I couldn't lie down and rest. The well was too narrow, too cramped—I couldn't even sit.

Days without water had left my hair falling out in patches, my exposed skin shriveled and dry.

Venomous snakes coiled around my limbs while maggots and insects feasted on my flesh.

When my soul finally broke free, I didn't dare look back at the well.