Borkham struck Tobang's head with all his might, blow after blow.
Blood mixed with red wine, and for a moment, Borkham felt a dizzying haze sweep over him.
"Edson, I… I've killed someone."
Edson, his voice calm and measured, replied, "Borkham, we are thieves. It's not unusual for thieves to kill when discovered. If you're going to cry, you might as well stay here and play house with this monster."
With that, Edson decisively turned and walked away, though he did not discard the oil lamp in his hand.
Together, they ran up to the first floor, carrying the oil lamp.
But upon reaching the top, they discovered the front door had been locked tightly, secured from the outside.
"Dmn it! The door's locked, we can't get out."
As Edson searched for another exit, the sound of footsteps returned—this time, it was from the basement.
"Edson, the monster's still alive. What do we do?"
"Shut up," Edson barked. "If you want to die faster, just keep flapping your mouth."
Borkham, too scared to argue, nodded repeatedly.
Edson's sharp eyes scanned the castle.
It wasn't until he noticed the light from the top floor that something caught his attention. It was the aristocrat's favorite place, a skylight made to mimic one from another country, designed for stargazing.
Ha, Edson thought bitterly. Stargazing was a pastime for these noblemen. A rat like him, on the other hand, feared the daylight, wishing only for dark, closed rooms.
Cursing the unfairness of life, Edson glanced at the trembling Borkham, a wicked thought forming in his mind. "Buddy, we're not going through the front door. Our only way is up."
He pointed to the skylight at the top of the castle.
Borkham, completely panicked, nudged Edson weakly. "Then… then let's go, quickly."
With the oil lamp swaying in their hands, they ascended to the second floor, but the sound of footsteps from below hadn't stopped.
A strange gust of wind blew into the room, making Borkham huddle his coat tighter around him.
The oil lamp flickered unpredictably, casting erratic light on the two men's figures, each with their own thoughts.
Looking at the bundle of clothes Borkham wore, Edson continued to climb.
He remembered his old mentor's words: simple-minded people couldn't be thieves.
Edson couldn't help but steal a glance at Borkham, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
Behind him, unaware of Edson's gaze, Borkham also smiled faintly, though he quickly tightened his coat, as if the smile had been a mistake.
Edson, ever the sharp-tongued but soft-hearted, still cared for Borkham, while Borkham, terrified, only wished to escape.
They climbed three flights of stairs and reached the top floor, where the footsteps below had finally faded.
The two men stood before the skylight, three meters above them, stumped.
"Buddy, we need something to step on, preferably one of those fine leather armchairs the aristocrats have."
Borkham didn't argue; he nodded and quickly went off to find the chair.
Edson placed the oil lamp on the stairs before heading into another room to search for something to stand on.
After some time, the area beneath the skylight was now piled high with leather armchairs, thick wooden stools, and a tall wine cabinet.
At that moment, Borkham pulled out a bottle of wine from his coat, his voice laced with pride. "Edson, once we're out, we can sell this wine and make some money."
Edson didn't respond, merely lowering his head to adjust the chairs and the wine cabinet. From behind him, a shadow seemed to lift and lower, lift and lower.
The oil lamp, left at the foot of the stairs, grew dimmer, as if it might extinguish at any moment.
Thankfully, they had managed to arrange makeshift steps to climb.
Edson took the first step, reaching out to touch the cool glass of the skylight before stepping back down.
"Borkham, we're missing one thing—a toy to break the window."
As he spoke, Edson's gaze fixed on the bottle of wine in Borkham's arms.
Noticing Borkham's hesitation, Edson slowly said, "Borkham, we're trying to save our lives. This wine can be replaced later. With me here, do you think we'll be without money?"
His words seemed to sway Borkham. The wine could always be replaced.
Borkham reluctantly handed over a bottle. Edson accepted it, whispering, "Buddy, you keep an eye out for the monster, and I'll break the window."
Borkham nodded, moving to a spot where he could see the entire staircase.
Edson passed the oil lamp, casting a huge shadow of himself, like a demonic silhouette on the wall.
Bang, bang.
Crash—
The sound of glass breaking echoed in the air, and the cold wind rushed in, blowing out the oil lamp's light entirely.
Edson hurried down, throwing the lamp to the floor and shouting, "Buddy, let's go!"
The extinguished oil lamp rolled down the stairs, eventually landing in a withered hand.
"Oh, my dear, you've finally returned."
Whoosh—
Tobang, holding the oil lamp, quickly approached Edson and Borkham, his speed unnerving.
In no time, he was at the foot of the stairs, swinging his iron chains, striking the brittle wooden boards that had long been neglected.
Crack—
The wood split open, and Edson, unable to use the chair for leverage, slid down to the ground.
Borkham, watching Edson empty-handed, handed him the last bottle of wine and said, "Edson, take the wine outside. I'll hold you."
Edson, filled with surprise and gratitude, immediately replied, "Borkham, you're truly my good brother."
Borkham shyly smiled.
As Borkham repositioned himself, a loud crack sounded. The old leather chair fell through the gap in the floor, and Edson tumbled beside the hole. Moonlight, refracted through the trembling wine, cast a beautiful crimson glow. Edson, looking at Tobang's grinning face, felt a chill run down his spine.
Quickly, he rolled a full circle, calling to Borkham, "Buddy, the monster's here. Watch the stairs. I'll help you."
Edson rushed to Borkham, while the monster, dragging chains, locked eyes with them.
Standing behind Borkham, Edson's eyes hardened. He raised the wine bottle and slammed it into Borkham.
But Borkham, quick as a flash, dodged. In that instant, Edson saw the lamp in Borkham's hand, understanding too late what was happening
The lamp came down on his head.
Edson's vision blurred, but in his disorientation, he bit down on Borkham's finger, refusing to let go. Meanwhile, Tobang's smile stretched wide, splitting his face in a grotesque grin.
Dragging his chains, Tobang advanced, step by step.
Clang, clang—
The sound of the chains echoed, each step hammering down on Borkham's heart.
Desperate, Borkham snapped his own finger.
With no more support, Edson rolled down the stairs.