The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort Chapter 337 Chains in the Mist

Mikhailis slipped into the manor, the mist curling unnaturally around him. It clung to the old walls like sothing alive, creeping over cracked pillars and rotting wooden beams. The place reeked of abandonnt—stale air, decayed fabric, and the faint, bitter tang of sothing arcane lingering in the corners.

His boots barely made a sound against the dust-coated floorboards as he moved deeper inside. Broken chandeliers hung from the ceiling like skeletal remains of past grandeur, their crystal pendants dulled with age and neglect. The silence felt too heavy, pressing down as if the very air resisted his presence.

Rodion's voice humd in his head, calm yet laced with an undertone of caution.

Mikhailis exhaled slowly. "aning?"