Ricardo sat in the cold darkness of the dungeon, his body slumped against the damp stone wall. The chains around his wrists and ankles had long since bruised his skin, but he barely noticed the pain anymore. It was nothing compared to the torment clawing at his mind.
He had spent countless hours, perhaps days, weeks, or even months, reliving every mistake, every betrayal, every moment he had chosen the wrong path. If there was a medicine for regret, he would have swallowed it whole, no matter how bitter, no matter how painful.
But regret was an affliction without a cure, and he was infected beyond salvation. Fiorensia's words echoed in his head like a relentless curse. You swore to make me happy. And yet, you did the exact opposite.
