Dozen of seconds later, the electric shock was cut off. Shang Ke stopped shuddering, but all he could feel was weakness engulfing his entire body. His complexion was white like snow, and traces of burns were visible on his skin. His veins had contracted to create a net-like design, appearing like a tattoo. But, what was strange was that his face was completely free of any injuries.
"Cage, how do you feel?" Charlton coldly smiled and asked.
How did he feel? He had a feeling of desire, to either become immortal or to die. Shang Ke glanced at the middle of the wall. This glance carried some charm, shocking the people on the other side of the wall, and causing their heartbeats to speed up.
This evildoer! If he wasn't Utrecht's son, then they would definitely be able to obtain endless benefits by taking him home.
How could Shang Ke know of these guys' dirty minds, much less that he had already evoked their twisted desire.
Not even giving Shang Ke time to breathe, a machine arm once again extended from the back of the chair. It roughly pulled apart Shang Ke's clothes, exposing the wide expanse of skin of his chest.
What were they planning to do this time? Shang Ke's alarmed and angered expression once again delighted the interrogators.
Charlton told the other interrogators, "I propose that we request all of the executive officers to observe this interrogation, and allow them to take note of his lack of expression while undergoing interrogation."
His proposal obtained most of their favor. They reported to their superior for only a few seconds before the proposal went through.
A tense silence descended upon the room as Alex lay drained, the remnants of the electric shock coursing through his weakened body. The smell of ozone hung heavy in the air, a grim reminder of his ordeal. Despite the exhaustion threatening to engulf him, Alex clung to the melody, the source of his newfound strength.
Charlie, a cruel amusement twisting his lips, approached Alex with a vial filled with a crimson liquid. "Enjoy the show, pretty boy," he taunted, the venom in his voice unmistakable.
Alex met his gaze with a steely resolve. The System's Perfect Expression Pack had indeed unlocked a new avenue for him. Although the pain remained a dull ache, the mask held firm. He could feel the subtle control coursing through his features, sculpting a canvas of stoicism upon his face.
A strange calm settled over him, a disconnect between the agony wracking his body and the serenity etched on his face. It was an unsettling sight, even for the hardened interrogators. As Charlie prepared to administer the crimson liquid, Alex's eyes, flickering with a hint of defiance, darted towards the blank wall separating them from the observation room.
This seemingly innocuous glance, imbued with a touch of unconscious charm, had an unexpected effect. On the other side of the wall, hearts pounded a frantic rhythm, a surge of inexplicable desire coursing through the unseen audience. The raw display of vulnerability, coupled with the stoic facade, was a potent cocktail that ignited something primal within them.
One of the interrogators, a man named Darro, cleared his throat, his voice raspy with a sudden dryness. "Did you see that?" he murmured, his eyes lingering on the blank wall.
"See what?" another, a burly man named Brock, rumbled, his gaze fixed on Alex.
"The way he looked… it did something to me," Darro confessed, his voice barely a whisper.
Brock scoffed, yet a flicker of unease crossed his face. He, too, had felt a strange stirring within him. Alex, the battered and bruised prisoner, had unwittingly become an object of morbid fascination for the very people observing his torture.
Charlie, oblivious to the chaos his actions had inadvertently unleashed, yanked Alex's shirt open, exposing a pale expanse of chest, etched with the faint tracings of the previous torture. Alex, despite his best efforts, couldn't help but betray a flicker of alarm in his eyes. This was a new level of cruelty, one he hadn't anticipated.
But before Charlie could proceed further, a knock rapped sharply on the observation room door. A flurry of activity ensued as the interrogators reported to their superior. Within moments, a frantic message crackled through the intercom: "Approve request. All executive officers to observe interrogation effective immediately."
A wave of amusement washed over Charlie. This turn of events only fueled his sadistic glee. Public humiliation, a spectacle of Alex's supposed lack of fortitude, would be far more satisfying than a simple torture session. He straightened, a cruel smile splitting his face, as the heavy metal door groaned open, revealing a gaggle of curious and, unbeknownst to him, dangerously aroused executive officers. The stage was set for a twisted performance, one where the lines between pain and desire would become hopelessly blurred.
The observation room buzzed with activity as hundreds of executive officers tuned in to the live feed. A collective gasp rippled through the air as Alex's battered form flickered onto their screens. The stark contrast between his youthful innocence and the raw brutality he endured was a punch to the gut.
Rasel, watching intently from his command center, felt a pang of unexpected sympathy. The image of Alex, a young man in his early twenties, did not match the profile Gabriel had painted. There was a vulnerability in his eyes, a defiance that simmered beneath the surface exhaustion, that spoke of a spirit unbroken. Compared to Gabriel's description of a spoiled troublemaker, this... this was a fighter.
Rasel's gaze sharpened. There was something else too, a subtle spark that ignited a flicker of recognition deep within him. He couldn't quite place it yet, but it tugged at the edges of his memory, a ghost of the past yearning to be acknowledged.
He dismissed Gabriel's report momentarily, opting to trust his own judgment. Alex, despite his predicament, held himself with a quiet dignity. His eyes darted towards the blank wall, a seemingly insignificant gesture that hinted at an underlying intelligence.
As the interrogators prepped for the next round of torture, Rasel noticed a ripple of discomfort flicker across the faces of some of the executive officers. This surprised him. Were they starting to waver? Did the sight of such blatant cruelty disquiet them?
A cruel smile spread across Charlie's face as the heavy observation room door creaked open, revealing a sea of expectant faces. Rasel watched, a knot of tension tightening in his gut, as the interrogators began their twisted performance. He knew Alex was facing a brutal ordeal, but a flicker of hope ignited within him. Perhaps, just perhaps, the tide was turning. The rebellion, fueled by Alex's unwavering spirit, might just have found an unexpected ally within the very heart of the Empire.
Alex's bravado, a thin veil stretched over his exhaustion, caused a stir in the observation room. His hoarse voice, laced with a hint of defiance, surprised even Rasel. Here was a boy facing unimaginable cruelty, yet his spirit remained unbroken. The image on the screen wasn't a prisoner waiting for torture, it was a starving man awaiting a meal, a bizarrely warped reality.
Charlie, oblivious to the growing tension in the room, savored his role as tormentor. "Young Master Alex," he purred, his voice dripping with false sympathy, "that was just an appetizer. The main course will begin now, are you ready?"
"Bring it on," Alex rasped, his eyelids drooping slightly. "I'm really hungry."
The dissonance between his words and his situation created a strange tension. He was a king awaiting a feast, not a prisoner facing torture. His bare chest, etched with the marks of previous cruelty, only heightened the unsettling glamour.
A collective frown rippled through the executive officers. This wasn't the show they had signed up for. The raw vulnerability of Alex, coupled with his unexpected defiance, was unsettling. It wasn't the image of a broken rebel they expected.
Rasel, his gaze glued to the screen, felt a surge of respect for the young man. Alex, despite being stripped of his dignity, maintained a core of strength. The melody within him, faint but persistent, was a beacon of hope in the darkness.
Suddenly, the sterile atmosphere of the interrogation room was shattered by the whirring of machinery. A mechanical arm extended, a crimson laser tip extending from its end, pulsing with a malevolent red glow. Before it even touched Alex's skin, a wave of searing pain ripped through him.
"I'll give you one more chance," Charlie's voice boomed, a cruel smile twisting his lips. "If you give us all the information you have, then we will think about letting you live."
Alex, his body wracked with pain, remained silent. He knew the lie in Charlie's words. Information was a death sentence; silence was his only weapon. He met Charlie's gaze defiantly, the System's Perfect Expression Pack flickering on his face, a flicker of defiance replacing the mask of exhaustion.
One by one, Charlie rattled off questions about the rebellion, their plans, their location. Each question hung heavy in the air, met by a stoic silence from Alex. In the observation room, a sense of unease morphed into something else entirely. A seed of doubt was taking root, a question blooming in their minds – who was the real monster here? The boy enduring torture, or the men inflicting it?
The air crackled with a sickening tension as Charlie's words hung heavy in the room. A collective gasp echoed from the observation room. The casual cruelty of his proposal sent shivers down the spines of even the most hardened officers. This wasn't interrogation anymore; it was sadistic art taking form on Alex's defenseless body.
Alex's defiance, though dimmed by exhaustion, flared anew. "So be it," Charlie said with an unhurried malice, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "Our Dragon Fang Empire's national flower is the Flaming Red Sky. It has seventy-two flower petals, furling in layers like a burning blaze. I think that, if we trace Dragon Fang Empire's national flower on your body," he leered, his gaze lingering on Alex's exposed skin, "your father would be very happy, wouldn't you think?"
Alex's expression, sculpted by the Perfect Expression Pack into a mask of icy disdain, shattered. A surge of disgust, hot and potent, washed over him. "If you're a pervert then you're a pervert," he spat, his voice hoarse but laced with venom. "So what use is there trying to find an excuse? You just want to insult people, so why are you tracing some flower? If you have the ability, then directly trace a pile of sh*t!"
The raw anger in his voice resonated within the observation room, a stark contrast to the sterile environment. Several officers exchanged uneasy glances. The carefully crafted image of a stoic rebel began to crack, revealing a flicker of raw humanity underneath. It was this very humanity, this vulnerability, that unexpectedly resonated with them.
Charlie, however, remained unfazed. He wasn't expecting blind cooperation from Alex. In fact, the boy's defiance only served to fuel his twisted amusement. "A spirited one, aren't we?" he chuckled, a humorless sound devoid of warmth. A cruel smile stretched across his face as he turned towards the operator. "Give the operator the order to continue," he commanded, his voice sharp with authority.
The operator, a young man with sweat beading on his forehead, hesitated for a split second. The sight of Alex, his defiance slowly crumbling under the relentless torture, filled him with a sickening dread. But under Charlie's cold gaze, his resolve crumbled. With a trembling hand, he activated the laser, the crimson light bathing the room in an ominous glow.
As the laser tip hovered inches from Alex's skin, a sudden clatter erupted from the observation room door. A flurry of activity ensued as several high-ranking officers stormed into the room, their faces etched with a mixture of anger and disgust. The lead officer, a man with a steely glint in his eyes, marched straight towards Charlie.
"Enough!" he bellowed, his voice echoing in the tense silence. "This interrogation has gone far enough. Stand down, all of you!"