"Go on, quickly."
After her old servant left, Mrs. Dawson waited in her courtyard until the servants brought her son back. When Mrs. Dawson got a clear look at her son's current state, she sucked in a sharp breath.
'Is this my son?'
The person before her, reeking and looking like he had just crawled out of a sewer, was truly her son. Mrs. Dawson's expression was a sight to behold. His face was covered in... something, to the point that she almost didn't recognize him.
Mrs. Dawson rose from her chair, feeling a bit unsteady on her feet. As she drew closer, a wave of pungent stench—a mix of something rotten and pig manure—assaulted her senses. The smell was truly overwhelming.
