Emir slipped through a narrow gap between the crumbling outer walls, avoiding the main door, which was blocked by a pile of debris.
Though he could've easily torn through the obstruction, he knew doing so would bring the entire unstable structure down on top of him.
The place was barely holding together as it was, and even the slightest disturbance could send it crashing to the ground.
Continuing to drag that headless body behind him, he searched around the building's basement, looking for a trap door.
It didn't take him long to find it.
There was no one guarding it, and that daughter he mentioned was nowhere to be seen.
As he expected, the "filthy bastard" lied.
Emir's hate for the pitiful man was a bit unwarranted, but it was also understandable.
They used his name on a man who looked like that—filthy, disheveled, and completely beneath him.
His obsessive need for order flared, but so did his pride.