Seven Sins System Chapter 387. Dramatic Show II

Seven Sins System Chapter 387. Dramatic Show II

This time what answered me was the sound of the small door to our food hole closing.

I glanced at Puriel, urgency evident in my eyes. "Quick, beg him to save me," I whispered urgently. It was crucial that our performance seemed genuine to our captors.

In a split second, Puriel sprang to her feet and dashed toward the small door in our cell, her movements frantic and desperate. With trembling hands, she pounded on the door, her knuckles rapping against the cold metal with urgency. "Open the door! Please, open it! He's dying in here, you have to help him!" she pleaded, her voice cracking with emotion.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she continued to beg, her words punctuated by sobs that wracked her body. "Please, he needs help! He's in so much pain, you can't just leave him like this!" she cried out, her voice echoing off the walls of the empty hallway outside our cell.

But despite her impassioned pleas, the kidnappers remained unmoved, their footsteps fading away as they ignored her cries for help. Puriel's frustration and desperation grew with each passing moment, her pleas becoming more desperate as she pounded on the door with increasing intensity.

I played my part as well, groaning softly and shifting my body as if I were in the throes of agony. I clenched my teeth and furrowed my brow, feigning pain and discomfort as I rolled slightly from side to side. It was a convincing performance, even to myself, as I allowed myself to sink into the role of the suffering victim.

After a while, we stopped the dramatics and resumed our usual positions, albeit with a lingering tension in the air. Puriel moved closer, taking a seat beside me as we awaited any sign of reaction from our captors. Despite the uncertainty of our situation, there was a glimmer of hope in our hearts that our plan might just work.

"Do you think they will take the bait?" Puriel whispered softly, her voice tinged with a mix of apprehension and anticipation.

"I don't know. But they should do something," I replied, my tone laced with a newfound confidence born from our bold strategy.

I shifted my attention to the tiny, flea-shaped tentacle still perched atop the head of one of our captors. It had proven to be an invaluable asset, providing me with vital information about the situation outside our cell. As expected, the man who had just delivered our meager meal began conversing with his companion, his tone serious and focused.

I strained to catch every word, my curiosity piqued by their discussion. The kidnapper relayed details about my supposed deteriorating condition, emphasizing the mention of a curse and the lord of wrath. His words were met with varying reactions from his companion, ranging from concern to intrigue.

Despite the gravity of the situation, the kidnapper didn't appear panicked. Instead, he maintained a composed demeanor, though there was a sense of urgency in his voice. It was evident that they were taking my condition seriously, even if they weren't entirely convinced of its authenticity.

As the conversation progressed, one of the kidnappers made a decisive declaration. He announced his intention to report the situation to their leader, recognizing the potential significance of my condition and the information I had divulged. With a sense of purpose, he swiftly sent a text message, presumably to convey the urgent message to their superior.

I opened my eyes, feeling a surge of excitement coursing through me. Glancing at Puriel, I couldn't help but flash her an annoyingly smug smile. "They took the bait," I declared, my tone dripping with pride.

“Nice,” Puriel responded, her voice laced with relief. “So we just have to wait a little longer,” she added, her expression softening with a sense of reassurance.

I nodded in agreement, but quickly issued a word of caution. "Yes. But don't break our acts yet. They're still watching us via CCTV," I reminded her, emphasizing the need to maintain our charade until the opportune moment.

“Really?” Puriel asked, her gaze shifting to the CCTV camera mounted on the wall.

"Yeah, they're probably scrutinizing our every move," I confirmed, urging her to continue the performance.

“Right,” she acknowledged, steeling herself for the continuation of our ruse.

We resumed our act, though with less intensity than before. My role now primarily consisted of intermittent grunts and groans, while Puriel occasionally interjected with simulated sobs and expressions of distress.

Time seemed to drag on. Hours stretched into what felt like an eternity, each passing moment filled with anticipation and tension.

Then, finally, the long-awaited sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway.

The door to our cell creaked open, revealing the figures of our captors standing on the threshold. Clad in dark attire and brandishing weapons - daggers and swords gleaming menacingly in the dim light - they presented a formidable sight. Each of them wore a mask, concealing their identities and adding to the sense of foreboding that permeated the atmosphere.

Pretending to be taken aback by their sudden appearance, we feigned surprise, our expressions mirroring a mixture of fear and confusion. The kidnappers wasted no time in asserting their authority, their weapons pointed menacingly in our direction as they advanced into the cell.

Without hesitation, they produced a canister of some unknown substance, swiftly spraying it in our direction. The pungent odor of the anesthetic assaulted our senses, its effects immediate as it began to cloud our vision and dull our senses. We knew this was their method of rendering us unconscious, just as they had done during our initial abduction.

Putting on a convincing display, we staggered and stumbled under the influence of the anesthetic, our movements becoming sluggish as we pretended to succumb to its effects. With practiced precision, we allowed ourselves to collapse to the ground, our bodies slackening as if overcome by unconsciousness.

The kidnappers wasted no time in seizing the opportunity, swiftly moving to hoist us from the floor and carry us out of the cell. We maintained the facade of unconsciousness. Our bodies limp as we were borne away by our captors.