"Ah... so you’re the one," she said, her voice like velvet dipped in something sweet but dangerous.
Karl glanced up briefly, confused.
She stepped closer. Her gaze ran slowly over him—his tied hands, his flushed cheeks, his soft blue eyes, his slightly mussed black hair.
She smiled faintly, her red lips curling. "Jiri wasn’t lying. You’re... quite the rare type."
Karl’s stomach turned.
She crouched slightly, enough to be at his level, and tilted her head. "What’s your name, pretty one?"
Her fingers reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead.
She laughed quietly. "Shy too. Oh, the clients will love you."
He clenched his jaw, swallowing his fear.
"You don’t get to touch me." His voice cracked, but he forced it out.
The witch blinked, then smirked.
"Such a little mouth on such a pretty face." She stood again, eyes still watching him like a cat watches a bird. "I’m Rilara. I work with Jiri to... find special ones. And you, darling—" she leaned down a little, her smile darkening, "—are going to make us very, very rich."
Karl’s pulse pounded in his ears. He didn’t move.
She turned to leave, pausing at the door. "Three nights from now. Make sure your face stays flawless."
Karl exhaled shakily, his hands still slowly rubbing the rope against the splinter behind him.
And one thing was clear he couldn’t stay beautiful for them. He had to disappear.
Karl winced as the splinter dug deeper into the rope and into his skin.
A sharp sting ran up his arm.
Warm blood began to slip down his wrist, just a little at first... then more, soaking into the rough fibers of the rope.
He bit his bottom lip to keep from making a sound.
He leaned closer, whispering urgently through clenched teeth, eyes wide with panic.
"Karl—what are you doing? You’re bleeding!"
Karl didn’t look at him. He kept rubbing the rope against the wall, slower now, more careful, his face pale but focused.
"I’m getting us out of here."
His voice was tight, low, shaking but determined.
Jo’s face twisted in worry.
"But—your wrist—if they see that, they’ll know—"
"Then I’ll stop bleeding before they come." Karl whispered harshly. "I’m not sitting here like a decoration waiting to be sold."
Jo’s eyes shimmered with fear. "But what if we fail?"
Karl stopped for a breath, staring at the ropes as if they were the only thing holding his fate.
Then he looked up at Jo—blood sliding gently down his wrist, his eyes burning with quiet fire.
"If we don’t try... then we already failed."
The third ghost whimpered softly in the corner, but glanced at Karl with something like hope.
Karl turned back toward the wall, pressed the rope down hard again, and whispered to himself like a promise:
"Come on... come on... before they come back."
Jo kept glancing nervously at the door, his tied hands twitching in his lap. The sight of Karl’s blood made his stomach twist, but the fire in Karl’s eyes was stronger than fear.
Still—reality hit him hard.
He leaned closer again and whispered, voice trembling,
"But Karl... even if we get our hands free... the door is locked from the outside. How should we escape then?"
Karl paused, breath catching.
He hadn’t figured that part out yet.
He stared at the door, brows furrowing like he was trying to force it open with his glare. Then he looked at the cracked window behind them—not big enough to squeeze through, but maybe big enough for something else...
A small, messy, ridiculous idea.
He turned to Jo, whispering fast.
"Okay... okay. Listen. If I get my hands free, I can untie you both. Then, we act like we’re fighting. Loudly."
Jo blinked. "Fighting?"
Karl nodded quickly, excitement sparking behind his blue eyes. "Like yelling, throwing stuff around—make it sound real. If we’re lucky, one of those witches will come in to shut us up."
Jo stared. "And then what?"
Karl grinned, even though sweat was dripping down the side of his face. "Then we jump ’em."
Jo’s mouth dropped. "That’s it?! That’s your plan?!"
Karl shrugged, still sawing his wrist slowly against the splinter. "Look, I didn’t say it was smart. But it’s something."
The other ghost whispered from the corner, "...That might work."
Karl smirked. "See? Messy plans work best when no one expects them. That’s my specialty."
He hissed as another jolt of pain shot up his wrist but the rope felt looser now.
With one final twist of his aching wrist, the rope snapped free.
Karl gasped—part pain, part relief and looked down at his bleeding hands. The skin was raw and red, a smear of blood along his wrist, but he’d done it.
"You did it! Karl, you did it!"
The other ghost sat up straight, eyes shining for the first time in hours.
"Hurry—before they come back!"
Karl didn’t waste a second. He crawled over, hands shaking, and began working on Jo’s rope. "Okay, okay, hold still. You’re next."
Jo nodded rapidly, barely breathing as Karl tugged the rough knot loose. The rope around his hands dropped.
"Next!" Karl whispered, already moving to the third ghost, who was silently crying—this time not from fear, but hope.
"Almost... there..." Karl muttered, and with one last pull, the rope came undone.
All three of them sat there for a beat—stunned, free.
Then Karl’s eyes scanned the room. Fast.
A rusted metal chair.
A small glass window with a thin crack running across it.
Karl pointed quickly.
"There’s our weapon."
Jo tilted his head. "The chair?"
"The glass." Karl whispered. "We use the chair to break it. but only after someone comes in. Got it? We make a mess—shout, throw stuff, argue. They’ll come to shut us up. And then..."
He clenched his fist.
"We knock them down and run like crazy."
Jo nodded, the other ghost too.
Everyone was listening to Karl seriously.
Karl swallowed, heart racing.
"Alright. Let’s be loud."
—To be continued...🪄