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“What about your other siblings?” Colt asked.

“You are very curious today,” said Rofal, laughing lowly. “If this is part of some ploy to take my family members hostage in exchange for your own, then for your own sake, allow me to dispel that plan in its infancy. You can take whomever you want. Or try to. My family members certainly do not need me to protect them from the likes of you. They would be upset if I did.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Ha.”

“What about Geoffrey’s parents? Are they dead?”

“No, they are alive. But they entrusted him to me. They struggled with him as a child.”

“I can imagine.”

“I do not think you can,” said Rofal.

Colt raised an eyebrow.

Rofal downed the rest of his whiskey and rested the glass in front of him. “There are very few people in this world who frighten me,” he said. “I am all too glad to have that monster’s favor.”

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‘What the hell is that thing?’ said Bohwanox.

‘I don’t know,’ said Garovel.

Hector didn’t have time to ask for an explanation. A group of five more guards appeared in the doorway and laid hands on him. He soon dispatched them, rendering three unconscious and two groaning in pain on the floor.

“Oh, wow! What a pleasure to meet you! My name is Geoffrey. What is yours?” When Hector did not reply, Geoffrey’s face scrunched up. “Why are the interesting people always so rude to me?”

Upon a second look, Hector noticed an unusual décor in this room. Not more than a meter to Geoffrey’s left lay a row of objects encased in glass. A foot, a hand, a nose, a little finger, a pair of eyes, a hairy scalp, a shriveled heart, a blackened brain. Various sizes and skin colors. All bloody.