The priest remained silent, and the man's eyes gradually turned cold, as if all emotions had drained from them. He took a deep, chilling breath and then said in a slow but terrifying voice...
"Pandit, are your ears not working? Can't you hear properly?"
"No!! That's not the case. I can hear you," the priest replied truthfully because he was scared—if he said he couldn't hear, this man might just start operating on his ears right there. You can't trust a madman like this.
"If you can hear everything, then why aren't you starting the chants?"
His voice was so terrifying that the priest's throat went dry.
"Start the chanting," he shouted in anger. The priest was terribly frightened. His fingers began to tremble, and he tried to recall his chants quickly. Poor man was so scared, he forgot them.
"And listen, Pandit. Don't you dare chant anything wrong by mistake. If anything goes wrong, I won't even think once before sending you to the afterlife."
Watching the sin happening in front of him, the priest could barely keep himself steady. He took a deep breath, gathered all his courage, looked into the man's eyes and said, "Marriage happens with the consent of two people... with mutual agreement. And here, I see only *your* consent, not his. He doesn't seem ready for this marriage. In such a case, conducting this wedding is wrong.
Even if you forcefully marry him, it will be meaningless. Nothing will be achieved, and this wedding won't be valid—because it's happening under coercion."
As soon as he said this—**BANG!**
A loud gunshot echoed, and the next moment, the priest's leg was covered in blood. The bullet hadn't hit his leg directly—it had just grazed it. It was clearly meant as a warning. A wave of unbearable pain surged through his body, and he collapsed to the ground.
**"Ahhh!!"** the priest screamed, writhing in pain on the floor.
The man looked at the gun in his hand, then bent over the priest with a cruel smile. His eyes held no mercy—only a cold, terrifying glint.
"Want to give more knowledge, Pandit?" he asked in a calm yet deadly voice.
The priest shook his head frantically. "N-No... not at all." His voice was trembling with fear. His courage had shattered completely.
The man stood upright and ran the barrel of his gun along the back of his own neck as he said,
"Start the chant before I lose my mind again... Because if I snap again, the next bullet will be in your head."
The threat shook the priest to his core. It felt like all the strength had drained from his body. His soul trembled in fear. Without wasting a moment, he began chanting, trembling all the while.
"Om..." his voice wavered, but he didn't stop—because he knew that if he stopped now, nothing could save him. He had already angered the man once. He couldn't take any more risks. So, without pause, he began chanting.
The man slowly shifted his gaze toward the guard standing behind him. With just a look, he gave a silent signal, and the guard understood without needing words. The guard stepped forward with a paper bag in his hands. He opened it and took out two wedding garlands, handing them to the man.
The man took a garland without delay and looked toward the boy standing in front of him.
The boy was still terrified, his eyes filled with both anger and helplessness. He wouldn't even look at the man. His eyes were fixed to the ground. The man tried to put the garland around his neck, but the boy tried to push his hands away—yet the man's grip was firm.
"Marriage rituals must be followed, my would-be wife," the man said with a crooked smile.
Then, with his strong hands, he forcibly put the garland around the boy's neck. Amidst the fragrance of flowers, the boy's helplessness only grew.
The boy tried to take the garland off, but in the next moment, the man grabbed his wrist and forced the second garland into his hands.
"Now it's your turn," the man said firmly, though his voice carried a strange softness that made it even more frightening.
The boy glared at him with rage, but there was no point resisting now. He could do nothing—not escape, not refuse the marriage.
He stood silently, refusing to put the garland on. Seeing this, the man grabbed his hands tightly and made him put the garland around his own neck.
After the garland ritual, it was time for the sacred rounds around the fire.
The man gripped the boy's hand tightly and began dragging him around the fire.
The boy's feet were already wounded, cut in several places and bleeding.
Every step felt like punishment. Waves of pain surged through his body, but no one saw his suffering. While walking, he stumbled, and just before falling to the ground, he cried out in pain—"Ahh..."
His foot had twisted. But the man didn't give him even a second's relief. He showed no mercy. Without hesitation, he dragged him and forcefully completed the sacred rounds.
The flames crackled, the priest chanted the mantras, but this wedding had no joy, no celebration, no love... only punishment, obsession, and helplessness.
At last, the cursed vows were completed.
A while later, a guard stepped forward with a chain in his hand, which he handed to the man.
Without a second thought, the man took the chain and tightly locked it around the boy's ankles.
After fastening the chain, he looked into the boy's eyes and in his cold voice said,
"From now on, your life belongs only to me..."
He clutched the end of the chain in his hand and gave it a strong tug.
The boy cried out in pain but had no strength left to resist.
Now he was dragged out of the forest. The chain scraped against the ground, and with every step, the boy's pain intensified.
After walking a short distance, his strength gave out. His body couldn't endure anymore. His eyes grew heavy, and suddenly he collapsed to the ground unconscious.
The man paused, sensing something.
He looked back...
There was the same face he had forcefully tried to claim as his—but now it was weak, breathing shallow.
The man watched the boy for a few moments, checking his unconscious state. His breathing had slowed, and his face had gone pale from pain. Seeing him like this, a strange softness flickered in the man's eyes for a moment—but he quickly pulled himself back together.
"You've done enough drama..." he muttered to himself, but the harshness was no longer in his voice.
He bent down and lifted the boy into his strong arms. His light frame felt as though even a small wound could break him.
"Let's go..." he ordered everyone, and with his guards, moved ahead.
The night...
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