Engulfed in darkness, the man sat in silence. His arms were tied behind his back and his legs were drawn tight in lotus position. The blindfolds, ever-present, robbed him of the sun's rhythm, turning days into indistinguishable stretches of uncertainty.
He did not know how many days had passed since he was ambushed at Kyushu, let alone what time it was.
Kiyoshi Matsumoto, his eyelids fluttering open at the sound of approaching footsteps, strained to decipher the murmurs carried by the creaking floorboards.
The footsteps came to a halt, and the door was pushed open.
Sunlight flooded the room, casting golden and grey streaks across the dusty wooden floor.
"Kiyoshi-san, how are you doing today?" Kurosuke's slimy voice was heard.
Kiyoshi let out a mocking chuckle.
"Never been better," he remarked sarcastically.
"Aww, I am flattered that you praise our hospitality. That's why I brought you a gift."
"Oh? What gift?"
