Corey walked to the window and drew aside the curtains, allowing the midday sun to enter the room and slightly brighten the darkness.
The light made his cheeks look pale, perhaps because he had been hiding in the dark for too long. He looked sickly, and his skin was unnaturally white, as if there was no blood flowing underneath.
"Are you feeling okay?"
Corey asked the question towards the darkness behind him. He turned around with very stiff movements and was a little unsteady for a moment.
“It’s time to change this thing.”
Corey muttered to himself, and after he stood firmly, he lifted his coat, and saw sections of steel nails stuck in his legs. They were mechanically connected together to assist Corey's movements.
"Alas, humans can never escape the ravages of time. I just felt that my foot was a little lame before, but after a few years, it became completely lame."
Curry seemed to be speaking to another person, but also seemed to be talking to himself.
"How did it happen? A bomb exploded next to me, and shrapnel cut into my thigh and chest. Since then, I have been suffering from these diseases. Every year, the Iron Law Bureau spends a lot of money to keep me alive."
Corey touched his chest again as he spoke. Under the collar of his clothes, there was a hideous scar that was aching slightly.
There was no response from any voice in the darkness. The other party seemed to not want to pay attention to him, or maybe he was a silent person.
"Let's talk, Ivar. I'm very curious about you Vikings."
Corey said as he pulled the curtains open completely. The blinding sunlight filled the entire room, illuminating the man in the darkness amid the dust.
He was a rather thin man, his exposed skin was somewhat similar to Corey's, and probably because he had not been exposed to the sun for too long, his skin was an oddly pale color.
He curled up in the corner of the iron bed, wrapped himself in a blanket, with his head lowered and breathing deeply, like a silent sculpture.
Ivar Rodbrock.
There were no obvious scars on the man's body, and it seemed that Ivar had not been tortured or beaten. Apart from the somewhat poor living environment, as a captive hostage, Ivar seemed to be treated well.
"What to talk about? There's nothing to talk about."
Ivar's voice was hoarse, perhaps because he hadn't spoken for too long.
He raised his head, his sick face expressionless, but even this silent expression made Corey feel a sense of beast-like ferocity, as if he was facing some terrible monster.
“How interesting…”
Corey whispered.
Looking at Ivar's miserable appearance, even though he had seen him many times, Corey still felt a slight shudder. It was difficult for him to describe Ivar with existing words. He was very contradictory and strange.
Perhaps it was because of his Viking blood. Even though Ivar was born deformed and extremely weak, beneath his eyes, it seemed as if this fragile body was restrained by a violent heart.
Yes, Ivar is the son of Odin and a child of the Rodbrok family. If he is really a coward, Corey might be disappointed.