The chief bully gripped the back of Takada's shirt tighter, staring at him with a gaze full of hatred that seemed to want to suck out any remaining sense of security within Takada. He spoke the words in such a cruel tone, letting every syllable hang heavy in the air.
"We haven't seen each other for a long time, Takada. Don't you miss us?" he said with a smile full of satisfaction that was very clear on his face.
Takada could only stare at him with fear clearly visible on his face, his eyes were wide, his tongue felt numb, and his body was shaking like his pen had run out of ink—unable to utter a single word.
The bully frowned, as if he couldn't believe Takada's silent reaction. In a mocking tone, he continued, "Oh, why are you so queit.?"
His hands gripped Takada's collar tighter, as if to make sure that Takada couldn't escape, that he was completely in his grip. As silence enveloped them, the bully slowly walked back, pulling the resigned Takada away from the crowd and away from the library, away from a safer place—into the darkness that only people who had no other choice could face.
Takada became increasingly panicked, trying hard to free himself, but his efforts were in vain. The difference in strength between them was so clear, there was no hope of being able to fight or escape. The bully realized that Takada's efforts were in vain, and with a sly smile that grew wider, he said in a voice full of mockery,
"Why, Takada? Want to run away? Don't rush... the fun part is just beginning."
His evil laugh echoed, making the air feel even more oppressive.The bully continued to drag Takada, pulling him into a dark alley full of rot. The place increasingly felt like another world, a world far from comfort and cleanliness.
Their every step was accompanied by the sound of dirty clothes strewn across the floor, lying carelessly without a care. Plastic waste is strewn everywhere, forming piles that look like the result of bad habits that have been ignored for a long time. An unpleasant smell—a mixture of dirt, food scraps, and an unbearable musty smell—pierced Takada's nose, making him almost cough.
With each pull, it became clearer that they were headed to a worse, darker place. Takada could feel the tension in his body. Every inch of space felt increasingly oppressive, as if they were getting further away from civilization, closer to unforgiving darkness.
"Just you wait, Takada." said the bully with a terrible smile, "We haven't gotten to the real fun yet."
They kept walking, and Takada felt more and more trapped. His body was tired, but he couldn't fight back. The bully's every step leads him to a darker, more terrifying place—a space filled with fear and resignation. A place that Takada will probably never forget throughout his life.
and Takada could only resign himself to his fate. In Takada's mind only thought of death and cruel torture before he was killed with two bullies around him and their leader who was dragging him.
"Here we are."
Said the bully before finally throwing Takada towards the wall very hard, Takada couldn't feel his tailbone because of the very strong throwing force, at that time he was almost unconscious because suddenly his vision blurred but strangely he regained consciousness. even though the pain in his tailbone was intolerable.
"Hey Takada, don't you remember this place?"
Takada, who was still in pain, tried to look at the situation around him, then how shocked he was to see the familiar sight of a place filled with rotten flesh and complete with tools arranged on the ceiling of the room and a chair lying in the middle. room. The chair appeared to have handcuffs on both sides, moreover, the chair was decorated with bloodstains
Takada just realized that he had returned to a place where he didn't dare leave the house, a place where he was cruelly and brutally tortured, remembering how one of the bullies had his teeth removed by force. broke his index finger and electrocuted him in this handcuffed chair.
Takada remembered the incident and collapsed on the spot lying on the dirty floor in the room, allowing himself to lose control of a situation that could threaten his safety.
he was lying in the middle of a crowd of three bullies. Silence enveloped them for a moment, before finally one of them spoke.
"Hey, isn't this easier? He passed out on his own. Very different from last time."
"Yeah, what are we going to do again?" answered one of his colleagues, his voice flat.
Their leader looked at Takada who had fallen unconscious with an unreadable, slightly irritated expression, then his eyes turned to his comrades. Without emotion, he gave the order.
"Pick him up. Sit him in that chair, just like a year ago."
As time passed, Takada slowly opened his eyes and saw a horrifying sight. He saw many animal carcasses circling him sitting in the handcuffed chair, a scattered pig's head and the legs of a mutilated cat scattered right next to other carcasses.
Takada couldn't say anything, there was only an expression of fear and sweat on his forehead. He also realized that his hands and feet were handcuffed to the chair. He looked around again, he didn't see the three bullies.
Takada, who was certain he was entirely alone, began to speak in a hushed, trembling voice.
"This is bad… I never should have gone to the library… Should have just stayed home… let myself rot away…"
He fell silent, his eyes dropping down to his hands, bound tightly in rusted, timeworn handcuffs. Slowly, a tear slid down his cheek, a pure, raw expression of fear. His shoulders quivered, his face twisted in anguish as the dread clawed its way up from his gut.
"Why?" he whispered, almost to himself. "Is it them again? What… what are they going to do this time?" He shut his eyes tightly, squeezing out more tears, his breathing shallow and quick. "I can't go through it again… I can't lose my teeth a second time. I… I hate this. I hate my life!"
Anger and despair merged in his chest, exploding through his limbs. He kicked and thrashed in the cold, metal chair, his body jerking with frustration as he tugged at his restraints. But then—something odd caught his attention. He went still, eyes narrowing.
"The handcuffs…?" he whispered, half disbelieving. "They're… loose?"
It didn't seem possible, but he wasn't going to ignore the chance, however slim. With renewed energy, he twisted his hands within the cuffs, wiggling and tugging until he felt the cold metal shift. He could almost taste freedom, and his heart pounded as the handcuffs inched down his wrists. His breathing turned ragged as he forced every ounce of strength into his wrists. With a final push, he slid his hands out, and the cuffs clanged to the floor
.
"I… I did it."
He sat there for a moment, stunned, almost not believing he'd managed it. But then, the realization that he needed to move flooded his mind. He scrambled to his feet, heart racing, the fear fading just enough to let a spark of hope slip in. But his first step forward was cut short—he stumbled, his body pitching forward, and he hit the cold, sticky floor hard.
The sharp smell struck him first, a fetid odor that made him gag. He turned his head slightly and saw that his face had landed in something rotting, some kind of decomposing flesh. He swallowed a scream, the taste and smell invading his senses as he tried to breathe through his mouth.
"Ugh… it's… disgusting… Why did I fall?"
A quick glance back gave him the answer, though it felt like a slap in the face. His legs were still shackled to the base of the chair, the metal cuffs biting into his ankles. He shut his eyes tightly, feeling the flush of embarrassment burn up his cheeks.
"Right…" he muttered. "Of course. My legs… they're still chained…" He glanced around, checking to make sure no one had seen his humiliating blunder, even though he knew he was alone.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, he focused on his feet. His hands, now free, reached down to the cuffs on his ankles. He tried to slide his feet within the shackles, hoping they'd come loose just like the ones on his wrists had.
"Come on…" he hissed, wriggling his feet. "Open, already!"
But instead of loosening, the cuffs felt as if they were gripping him tighter. The metal seemed to clamp down harder, almost as though the cuffs were responding to his efforts to escape. He yanked his feet again, panic welling up inside him. That's when he noticed the sharp, tingling pain at his ankle, a pain that quickly escalated as he pulled.
"What… what is this..? its feels likes..?" he gasped. He peered down, catching a glint of something sharp, a small, thin needle emerging from the inside of the cuff.
He froze, the sight of the needle turning his blood cold. With every shake, the needle seemed to grow, pressing deeper into his skin, sinking into the muscle.
"No… no, no, no!"
He shook his leg in desperation, but that only made it worse—the needle drove further, piercing him deeply. A sharp, searing pain shot through his leg, and he felt warm blood trickling down his ankle. He gritted his teeth, a strangled scream escaping his lips.
"AH!"The pain throbbed, radiating from his ankle up through his leg, each heartbeat seeming to intensify the agony. He looked down, horrified, as a slow, dark crimson line began to seep out from the cuffs and trail down his leg.
Takada sat there, frozen in horror, his breathing uneven as he watched the thin trail of blood begin to pool around his ankle. Panic surged in his chest, and he clenched his fists, his knuckles going white. The reality of his situation hit him harder than before, and a crushing wave of dread filled his mind.
"It's tightening," he whispered, eyes widening with each beat of pain that echoed from the cuffs. "No… no, this isn't happening.. its hurts.."
Takada clenched his teeth, every nerve in his body on edge. The cuffs weren't just holding him—they seemed almost alive, responding to his attempts to break free with brutal force. Each time he so much as twitched his leg, the cuffs tightened further, and the needle embedded within dug deeper, tearing through muscle, scraping against bone.
"I have to get out of here," he muttered through clenched teeth, his voice shaking. "I can't stay here another second…"
Desperation forced him to scan the dimly lit room, searching for anything that could help him. The faint light barely illuminated the decaying walls and the scattered remnants of… he wasn't sure. Rusty metal scraps, piles of decomposing material that might have been food—this was a place meant to break people. And it was doing a fine job of breaking him.
Takada's heart pounded harder, his pulse loud in his ears. He gripped the leg of the chair, steadying himself, taking slow, measured breaths as he tried to ignore the needle piercing his ankle. He couldn't afford to waste energy on panic. There had to be a way out he just hadn't seen it yet.
"Think… think, Takada," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding in his head. "What… what can I use?"
In the low light, he noticed a small piece of metal lying close to the chair. It looked thin and jagged, maybe part of an old, broken tool. Hope sparked in him—a glimmer, but it was enough. He reached for it, stretching his arm painfully to the limit as his fingers strained to touch it.
Just barely… almost… he grunted, inching forward, feeling the cuffs bite into his legs again as he leaned. And then—finally—his fingers brushed the edge of the metal shard. It was rusty, slick with some unidentifiable grime, but he didn't care. He seized it, gripping it tightly.
With the shard in hand, Takada took a steadying breath, looking down at the cuffs around his ankles. They were old, but whatever mechanism was hidden inside them had held up well. The needle glinted ominously, ready to drive deeper if he struggled too forcefully. He had to be careful. One wrong move could leave him crippled.
Slowly, he wedged the shard into the small gap between the metal cuff and his skin, attempting to jimmy it loose. He worked carefully, gritting his teeth each time the shard slipped, scraping his skin. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and he fought the urge to rush, knowing that one careless motion could drive the needle in further. But the cuffs were unyielding, barely moving.
"Come on…" he breathed, his voice tense with frustration and pain. "Just… move…"
Suddenly, a metallic snap echoed through the silence, and he felt the cuff on his right ankle loosen just slightly. His pulse quickened—he was so close. If he could just get this one open, he might be able to get his foot out. But as he wrenched it again, his hand slipped, and the needle jolted, stabbing deep into his ankle. Agony burst through his leg, and he bit back a scream, tears blurring his vision.
"Ahh…!" he gasped, his whole body tense with pain. Blood flowed more freely now, staining the floor, dark and ominous in the dim light.
But he couldn't stop now. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to keep pushing at the cuff. Another twist of the metal shard, another grind of metal against metal, and finally, with a sickening pop, the cuff on his right ankle fell open. He froze for a moment, not believing what he was seeing, barely feeling the sting of his raw, bloodied ankle.
"I did it…" he whispered, almost in disbelief.
But he wasn't free yet. His left ankle remained bound, and he could feel the cuff biting tighter, as if it knew it was his last tether. He braced himself, hoping the pain wouldn't be as bad this time. But the blood loss was making his hands shake, and his vision was starting to blur. Still, he forced himself to reach down, pressing the shard back into the cuff's locking mechanism.
"My Other legs left.." he muttered, his voice weak and shaky. "Just one more, and I'm out of here…"
As he worked on the second cuff, he thought he heard something—a distant sound, maybe footsteps echoing down a corridor. His heart nearly stopped. Someone was coming. The sound grew louder, the footsteps steady and slow, each step a reminder that his time was running out. He couldn't afford to make a single mistake.
His hands moved frantically now, fingers slick with sweat and blood as he shoved the metal shard deeper into the lock, hoping against hope that it would give way. Just as the footsteps seemed dangerously close, he felt the cuff loosen. With a final, desperate twist, it popped open.
He didn't waste a second. Ignoring the pain, he yanked his foot free and scrambled to his feet, nearly slipping in the blood that had pooled beneath him. He stumbled forward, grabbing onto the wall to steady himself, his entire body trembling from the combined effects of terror and relief.
But the footsteps were still coming, and he knew he was out of time. Forcing himself to move, Takada limped toward the only visible exit, a narrow, shadowed doorway at the far end of the room. His ankle throbbed with each step, and every nerve screamed at him to stop, to rest but he knew he couldn't. If he stopped now, he would never get another chance.
The air in the hallway was thick and stale, each step forward echoing in the empty space. Takada's senses were heightened, every slight sound and movement seeming amplified, pressing on him with a terrifying urgency. He cast a glance back, half-expecting to see a figure looming in the doorway. But he saw only shadows.He was free. At least, for now.
Takada relief, though immense, was short-lived. In the silence, he could feel the weight of what had happened pressing on him, the knowledge that even this temporary freedom was fraught with danger.
Then Takada's heart raced as he clutched at the fabric of his pocket, his fingers grasping nothing but the empty pocket with a jolt, he looked down again at his pocket. Something about it felt wrong, hollow, like there was a piece of him missing. The realization struck him like a punch his cell phone. He stared at his empty pocket for what felt like an eternity, his breathing ragged and unsteady as his hands began to shake.
"Where is it…?" he whispered. "Where did it go…? My cell phone… my only way out of here…"
His hand moved frantically over his body, patting down his pockets, desperately hoping it had slipped to another spot. But deep down, he knew the truth: it was gone. Someone, or something, had taken it.
"Did they take it...?" he murmured, eyes narrowing with a mix of dread and anger. "For what? Why my phone...?"
Takada's gaze darted around the room, each carcass and shadow suddenly feeling more sinister, as if they were keeping secrets from him. The thought that something had been close enough to take his phone, possibly watching him even now, sent a chill down his spine. He felt utterly exposed.
His injured leg throbbed harder, the pain now shooting up through his hip and lower back, but he forced himself to ignore it. He needed to move. He needed to find his phone—or, at the very least, find a way out of this cursed place.
With a sharp breath, he muttered to himself, "Ill think about that phone later.. Ill Just… keep moving. Just a little further… maybe there's an exit…"
As Takada hobbled forward on his injured leg, he spotted a door ahead, casting a hopeful glow from the world beyond. His heart leapt at the sight. He gritted his teeth and quickened his pace, limping with every ounce of strength he could muster, clinging to the fragile hope that this door might finally be his escape.
"Is this… the way out?!" he breathed, barely daring to believe it.
With a trembling hand, he reached for the door handle, flung it open, and took a step forward only to be plunged into a nightmare. He froze, his heart sinking into a pit of terror as he stared, wide-eyed, at what lay on the other side. That glimmer of hope he'd clung to so tightly? It shattered, as if someone had sliced it clean in two with a cruel, invisible blade.
"Hey, Takada. Took you long enough to find the way out," a voice sneered.
Takada's blood ran cold. That voice was unmistakable, a sound he had long since learned to dread. Outside the door, three of his bullies stood waiting for him, smirking in satisfaction. But even they were not the worst of his troubles. Takada now realized he was not in a free, open space as he had hoped, but rather in a massive enclosure a cage. Bars surrounded him, tall and imposing, their cold metal glinting under a low, eerie light, and thick, heavy red curtains draped along the perimeter as though concealing some dark secret.
Panic surged through him. Takada spun around, desperate to retreat through the door he had just come through. But the moment he reached for it, an excruciating jolt of electricity shot through his body, sending him stumbling back with a sharp cry.
"Aah…!"
His hand throbbed from the shock. The door was now a high-voltage electric barrier, impossible to pass. But despite the pain and the odds stacked against him, Takada's will to survive kept him moving. With his wounded leg bleeding more heavily now, he began to limp, frantic and gasping, from one end of the cage to the other. He was trapped like an animal, dashing hopelessly from wall to wall as if searching for a hidden exit.
A cruel laugh rang out from behind him.
"Hahaha... Look at him limp like that."
Takada ignored them, his focus only on escape, but his body was failing him. His legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the gritty, sandy floor of the cage, his chest heaving, dust settling around him as his cheek pressed against the rough ground.
"He fell! What an idiot," one of the bullies sneered, his eyes glinting with twisted amusement. He leaned toward their leader and whispered, his voice low but filled with menace. "Hey, boss, let's start the show. That kid's gonna make an entertaining little prey."
The leader nodded, a slow, wicked smile spreading across his face. He reached for a cord hanging nearby and gave it a hard yank. In response, the heavy red curtains began to pull back, revealing what lay beyond the cage's confines.
Takada, barely able to lift his head, stared in horror as the space beyond came into view. Thousands of faces, men and women of all ages, filled the vast arena surrounding the cage. Their eyes burned with anticipation, and their voices began to rise, a chant swelling up and echoing throughout the space.
"The Prey For the King! The Prey For the King!"
The words hit Takada like stones, repeated over and over as if the crowd's excitement grew with each beat. Their voices clashed and crescendoed, filling the air, until Takada could feel it thudding inside his chest. His heart pounded wildly. All he could do was stare back, helpless, as he lay on the ground, his leg throbbing and his spirit teetering between despair and dread. He felt tears burning his eyes, the choking weight of panic closing in.
"Release it!" someone roared from the sidelines.
The voice came from an older man, his thick beard woven with gold rings and trinkets, gleaming even in the dim light. He stood next to the leader of The Bully , his posture commanding, his expression ruthless. With a gesture, he signaled to a set of curtains on the far side of the cage.
Takada's stomach twisted. He tried to pull himself up but only managed to prop himself up weakly on his elbows, his blood-smeared legs slipping in the sand. The curtain across from him shuddered and then ripped open with a ferocious tear. Takada's breath caught, and his body froze as a massive lion emerged from behind the shredded fabric. It was monstrous, its eyes blazing with hunger, its maw hanging open, saliva dripping from its fangs as it eyed Takada like a feast laid out just for it.
"A… a lion…?!" Takada's voice was barely a whisper, thick with terror.
His mind spun. He wanted to run, to stand, to fight back, but he couldn't even muster the strength to get off the ground. His leg was throbbing, his vision blurring from pain and exhaustion. He knew with a sickening certainty that there was no escape from the predator now advancing toward him. This was the end—he felt it deep in his bones, a creeping finality pressing in on him.
The lion took a step forward, its paws leaving deep prints in the sand, muscles rippling as it approached, a low growl rumbling from its chest. The crowd's chant grew louder, their cries filling the air with a frenzied thrill, feeding off Takada's despair.
He lay there, helpless and alone, a single tear slipping down his cheek as he watched his fate march toward him, jaws open, eyes locked.
Was this truly the end?
-To be Continued...