When Ji-Hoon awoke, the world was a blur of pain and shadows. His body felt like it had been torn apart and reassembled in the most haphazard way imaginable. Every muscle, every bone, screamed in agony. He was no longer in the small torture chamber; instead, he found himself in a much larger, cavernous room, the walls lined with cold, rough stone. His wrists and ankles were shackled to the floor, the heavy iron chains limiting his movement to a mere few inches.
The dim light barely illuminated his surroundings, but Ji-Hoon could make out ominous shapes—more instruments of torture, and dark stains on the stone floor that he did not want to think about. The air was thick with the scent of blood, sweat, and fear, and every breath he took felt like inhaling shards of glass.
His vision swam as he tried to focus, his head spinning from the accumulated pain and exhaustion. How long had he been here? Hours? Days? He couldn't tell anymore. Time had lost all meaning in this hellish place. His stomach churned, not just from hunger but from the overwhelming dread of what was to come.
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed through the room, drawing Ji-Hoon's attention to the far end of the chamber. A door creaked open, and three figures stepped inside. The guards were the same as before—stoic, emotionless, as if they were made of stone. But this time, they were accompanied by another man, someone Ji-Hoon had never seen before.
The man was tall and thin, his face sharp and angular, with eyes that glinted with a cruel intelligence. He wore a dark robe that swept the floor as he walked, and in his hand, he carried a slender, barbed whip that gleamed wickedly in the dim light.
"Prince Ji-Hoon," the man said, his voice smooth and almost gentle, but with an undertone that sent a chill down Ji-Hoon's spine. "You have proven yourself capable of enduring great pain. But the true test is yet to come. Only by facing the depths of your own suffering will you emerge reborn."
Ji-Hoon tried to speak, to plead for mercy, but his voice was nothing more than a hoarse rasp. The man paid no attention to his feeble attempt at communication. Instead, he raised the whip and struck it across Ji-Hoon's chest with a swift, practiced motion.
The barbs bit into Ji-Hoon's flesh, tearing through his already bruised and battered skin. The pain was immediate and overwhelming, like fire searing through his veins. Ji-Hoon screamed, the sound echoing off the stone walls, but it did nothing to stop the next lash. The whip came down again and again, each strike leaving deep, jagged gashes in his flesh.
His vision blurred with tears and pain, his mind struggling to hold on to any semblance of sanity. The agony was so intense that it felt like his very soul was being shredded along with his body. He tried to pull away, to escape the relentless blows, but the chains held him fast, and all he could do was writhe in place, his body a puppet to the man's sadistic rhythm.
The whip tore through his tunic, through his skin, ripping away what little was left of his dignity. The cuts were deep, each one adding to the growing pool of blood that spread across the cold stone floor. Ji-Hoon's screams grew weaker with each strike, his strength fading as the pain pushed him closer to the edge of unconsciousness.
But the man did not stop. He continued the torture with a detached precision, as if Ji-Hoon were nothing more than a piece of meat to be tenderized. Every lash was a new lesson in suffering, a reminder of just how fragile and insignificant he was in the face of such overwhelming cruelty.
At some point, Ji-Hoon's mind began to fragment under the weight of the pain. His thoughts became disjointed, flashes of memories and sensations blending together in a chaotic swirl. He remembered his childhood, the endless feasts and celebrations, the laughter of his friends, and the warmth of his mother's embrace. All of it seemed so far away now, like a dream he had once had but could barely recall.
His body was a canvas of agony, every inch of his flesh screaming in protest. The pain had become a living thing, a creature that gnawed at his insides, consuming him from within. There was no escape, no relief, only the endless cycle of torment that threatened to break him completely.
After what felt like an eternity, the man finally lowered the whip, his expression one of mild satisfaction. Ji-Hoon was barely conscious, his body limp and trembling, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He was covered in blood, his own and that of the wounds that crisscrossed his flesh.
"Now, you will learn what it means to truly suffer," the man said, his voice almost a whisper. He motioned to the guards, who moved forward and unshackled Ji-Hoon from the floor.
Ji-Hoon collapsed, his body too weak to support itself. He was dragged across the floor, the rough stone scraping against his raw, bleeding skin. The guards brought him to a large, wooden wheel that stood in the center of the chamber. The wheel was mounted vertically, with leather straps hanging from it at intervals.
The guards hoisted Ji-Hoon up and secured him to the wheel, binding his wrists and ankles to the straps. His body hung limply, every movement sending fresh waves of pain through his battered form. The wheel began to turn slowly, rotating Ji-Hoon upside down, then right-side up again in a continuous, nauseating cycle.
The motion made his head spin, adding a new layer of torment to his already overwhelming agony. The blood rushed to his head, his vision growing hazy as the wheel continued to turn. He could feel his consciousness slipping away, but every time he came close to passing out, a guard would splash cold water on his face, shocking him back to awareness.
The man with the whip approached again, but this time he held a small, wickedly sharp knife. He traced the blade lightly across Ji-Hoon's skin, just enough to draw blood, but not enough to cut deep. The sensation was maddening, the pain sharp and immediate, but nothing compared to the lashes he had endured earlier.
With slow, deliberate movements, the man began to carve intricate patterns into Ji-Hoon's flesh, each cut precise and agonizing. The wheel continued to turn, making it impossible for Ji-Hoon to brace himself or find any kind of relief from the pain. It was a new kind of torture, one that played not just on his body but on his mind, pushing him further into despair.
The room seemed to close in around him, the darkness pressing against his vision. The pain was all-encompassing, a force that consumed everything else. Ji-Hoon could feel himself slipping away, his mind retreating into itself in an attempt to escape the unbearable reality.
But even in his darkest moments, a small, stubborn part of him refused to give in. It was the same part of him that had clung to life in the pit, that had fought to survive despite the overwhelming odds. That part of him whispered that he could endure this, that he could survive, no matter how much it hurt.
Ji-Hoon didn't know how long the torture lasted. Time had lost all meaning, the hours blending into one endless stream of suffering. But eventually, the man with the knife stepped back, his work done. Ji-Hoon was left hanging on the wheel, his body a mass of cuts and bruises, his mind shattered but somehow still clinging to life.
The guards unbound him from the wheel and let him fall to the floor. Ji-Hoon crumpled in a heap, his body too weak to move, his mind too broken to think. He lay there, gasping for breath, his eyes staring blankly at the cold stone floor.
The man knelt beside him, his voice low and cold. "You are almost ready, Prince Ji-Hoon. One more trial remains. Survive it, and you will be reborn. Fail, and you will die."
Ji-Hoon could not respond, his body and mind too overwhelmed by the agony that coursed through him. All he could do was lie there, the last remnants of his strength slipping away like water through his fingers.
The man stood and gestured to the guards, who lifted Ji-Hoon's limp body and carried him away. The world around him faded into darkness once more, his mind retreating into the merciful oblivion of unconsciousness.
But even in the darkness, the pain remained, a constant, unrelenting companion that haunted his every thought. And as he slipped deeper into the abyss, a single thought echoed through his mind: survive. He had to survive.
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To be continued...