Amy's face was once a masterpiece—a canvas of silk-soft skin, eyes sparkling like stars. Her lips were like delicate rose petals, and her cheeks carried a shy, lovely blush.
But now, her face had become a battlefield. Ugly swellings marred her features, like tiny mountains erupting on her skin. Her eyes were sunken, encased in dark circles and surrounded by blue and red bruises. Her cracked lips were bleeding, with thin streaks of blood seeping from the corners of her mouth.
Her cheeks, which had once been the source of her beauty, were now swollen and disfigured, covered in a layer of bruises and cuts. The lively glow in her eyes was gone, replaced by a hollow emptiness that reflected the pain she had endured.
I frowned, raising a finger to point at her tied to the chair. I turned to Dexter, my voice cold.
"What is this?"
He looked at me like I'd asked the most obvious question.
"Sir, she's the assassin who tried to kill you."
"Do you think I'm stupid? I know who she is. I'm asking about her face."
Dexter stared at her, as if to double-check, before looking back at me.
"Bruises,".
My voice rose involuntarily.
"I know the name. I'm saying..."
I stopped myself on purpose, taking a deep breath, relaxing my features, and repeating to myself, Calm down, calm down. It's not his fault he's slow to understand. Calm down.
After composing myself, I locked eyes with him again.
"Did I give you permission to torture her?"
"No, sir."
"Then?"
"Then..."
His blank expression, devoid of any understanding, made me raise my voice again.
"Then why does her face look like this?"
Suddenly, his eyes lit up like he'd finally caught on to what I meant.
"She was beaten. That's why her face looks like this."
"..."
I couldn't take it anymore. Why was I even discussing this with him? If I asked him again and he gave me such a stupid answer, I might kill him in a fit of rage.
I turned away, shifting my gaze to Amy, ignoring Dexter. At least her body was intact. I couldn't help but feel pity for the beauty that had been destroyed.
Wait—she tried to kill me. Why would I pity her? No, wait—I pity her beauty, not her.
I refuse to be that foolish protagonist who won't harm a woman no matter what. I won't be a beta protagonist—the kind I despise the most.
The kind that sees beauty everywhere for no reason, and the worst part? He's never interested in any of it. I mean, what's the point of having a little brother in your life if you're never going to use him? Don't tell me it doesn't exist at all. pussy.
"Sir, are her bruises not enough? Shall we move on to her body?"
Lost in my thoughts, I didn't notice who had spoken at first. But from the nature of the words, who else could it be but Dexter? I turned to him.
"What's wrong with you? Do you hate all that's beautiful? Did I ask you to do anything? Why are you even talking? Isn't it enough what you've ruined? Are you never satisfied?"
I kept saying everything that came to mind, my spit flying and landing on his face.
The lunatic stood there like a statue, his expression confused, as if asking, What did I do? I would've continued my rant until the sweet voice stopped me.
"Sir, I was the one who spoke."
Azaria, with her big blue eyes, looked at me with a gaze that could melt stone, in stark contrast to her words.
"What did you say? You tortured her?"
My eyes widened, and my eyebrows shot up.
"Since my performance displeased you, I'll improve,".
Without any delay, knives appeared out of nowhere in her hands, accompanied by a curved smile and eyes oozing with malice.
Damn it, she's a yandere.
She was about to step into the cell when my hand shot out to stop her. Her face wore a questioning look, like a child wondering why they couldn't play.
I found no one to complain to except Hank, standing silently behind me.
"What is this? Why don't you keep an eye on them?"
He lowered his head apologetically.
"Sorry, sir. I got distracted, so they resorted to barbarism."
At least one of them had some sanity left.
"Next time, I'll make sure they use the electric chair."
Insanity. I'm surrounded by crazy people.
"Ah, ah, ah,"
Amy, the beautiful one—or rather, Amy who used to be beautiful—began coughing, blood spilling from her beautiful mouth. I mean once-beautiful—well, you get the point.
You understand what I mean.
She coughed, bringing up a large amount of blood from her formerly beautiful mouth.
She coughed up a large amount of blood, sending me into a strange daze of thought.
The moment I looked at her blood, something stirred within me—I wanted her to spill more.
The blood wasn't enough; I wanted more. It wasn't enough. I wanted to see more.
Damn it, this thirst for blood. What am I? A vampire?
I opened the cell door and sat in the chair opposite her, lightly slapping her beautiful cheek—no, her cheeks—to wake her up.
I needed to stop mourning her lost beauty.
Her eyes fluttered open, and I made sure to be at her eye level.
"Good morning. How's the hospitality? Did you enjoy our service?"
"I've... had worse than this... This is nothing,"
She was struggling to move her swollen lips.
"Oh, a strong girl! I love strong girls—it's so much fun breaking them."
I couldn't help but admire her. A girl like her, so composed. With her plans and influence, she'd survived on her own without help. She was ready to die until I used her family against her.
I couldn't help but compare her to Ivana—one cared more about her family's honor than her own, while the other married just to destroy her family.
The contrast made me wonder what her family's head had done to her to drive her to such vengeance, even at the cost of annihilating her entire family.
"By the way, we've circulated your picture among my men. We'll have your identity soon."
I turned to Hank, who was already looking at his phone.
"Five minutes, sir."
"Five minutes? So, how about you tell me everything yourself? I might let you go."
Her eyes shifted with difficulty.
"You... are just …bluffing..."
I raised an eyebrow and glanced at everyone.
"She doesn't believe me, Hank."
What I liked about Hank was that he understood me with just a look. He immediately played along.
"Don't worry, sir. There's still time to show her your generosity, but it might be too late for her by then."
I sighed deeply, disappointment flashing in my eyes.
"What can I say, Hank? Life is always so cruel to me. Look, I admired her bravery, so I thought I'd give her a chance, but alas..."
" The best you'll get is… my family's identity... Beyond that… you'll learn nothing…."
That's the problem with a smart woman—you might admire her, but her danger keeps you at arm's length.
I wanted to be a gentleman, but the world wouldn't let me.
"And what use do you think you are to me? Why do you think I'm keeping you here?"
"I won't tell..."
Her stammering began to bore me, so I cut her off. The bloodlust clouded my mind. I had to finish this quickly.
"By the way, what's the brand and size of your underwear?"
"..."
Silence filled the cell. Amy's eyes seemed to regain life, only to give me a look of utter disbelief. It seemed she was trying to figure out my angle.
She wasn't alone—everyone stared at me in shock, except Dexter, whose expression remained as blank as ever.
"If you don't tell me, I'll just take a look by myself."
Slowly, I moved my hand toward her, and her eyes flared with panic. Maybe she valued her family's honor more than her own, but that didn't mean she had none.
"P... Pervert."
She spoke the forbidden word. Instinctively, I stood, anger and indignation written across my face. My voice thundered, shaking the very air in the cell.
"I am not a pervert..."
A shiver ran through everyone as they looked into my eyes, awaiting my words. The tension in the cell suddenly thickened.
In the same tone, I made sure everyone could hear me clearly, imprinting my words into their minds.
"I am a man of culture."
I didn't bother explaining further.
No matter how much I explained, they wouldn't understand something so deep and complex. It's simply beyond their grasp. If you haven't crossed through certain realms, you can't comprehend greatness. I'll leave it at that.
"Quickly now, make your choice: either tell me, or I'll take a look for myself. Please, don't resist. I'd be more than happy to help you take off your clothes."
Although her facial features no longer revealed much, her trembling body betrayed her anxiety.
The psychology of a woman truly is strange. She showed no fear or hesitation throughout all this torture, but the moment her underwear came up, she was shaking all over.
"W... what will you do with it?"
"That's none of your business."
Finally, she stopped resisting and began to utter the sacred words.
"Hank."
"Sir."
Hank pulled out his phone to note what he heard, looking embarrassed.
Still young, he couldn't handle something this simple. What if he heard someone say onii-chan? Would he faint on the spot?
"You... you won't go back on your word, will you?"
I placed a hand on one of my ears as I replied,
"Sorry, which word are you referring to exactly?"
"Bastard, I shouldn't have trusted you..."
"Calm down. I was joking. Of course, I'll keep my word."
I glanced at Hank, whose face was flushed red as he sent the information to one of our sources. He's really good. Without needing an explanation, he understood what I intended.
Since Hank was busy with the phone, I looked around for someone to interact with and found no one but Dexter.
"Dexter, tell her my titles."
It was as if I'd pressed an alarm button. He started off with no brakes.
"Immoral, unscrupulous, untrustworthy..."
Suddenly he stopped trying to remember the rest
The moment he paused to think, I swear I saw smoke coming out of his ears. Fortunately, he gave up quickly, preserving the few brain cells he had left.
"There are more, but I can't remember them all. There are just too many. Sir is famous."
Another silence settled over the room.
"What? Did I say something wrong?"
"No, it's not your fault."
Returning to the matter at hand, I addressed her again.
"If I had any ill intentions, I'd have spread your picture everywhere, wouldn't I? Why would I waste my time with you?"
"I can tell you her identity if you give me a chance,"
came a voice from the shadows of the cell.
It was the one person I feared the most so far—none other than the man with the burned face.
I turned to Hank, waiting for an explanation.
"Sir, I chose this cell based on your request to keep as far from him as possible... I don't know how he heard us."
Taking a deep breath, I stepped out of the cell and walked toward the ominous voice. Dexter tried to follow me, but I stopped him in his tracks and continued alone.
Because of Dexter's impulsive nature and inability to control his anger, I decided not to tell him about my memory loss, fearing he might let something slip unintentionally. You never know what could happen.
I had once asked Hank about the identity of the scarred man, but he didn't know. Apparently, Dexter was the one assigned to handle him personally.
No need to think too much; I knew something was wrong the moment our eyes met.
Now, despite the great distance between the cells, he'd heard us, which meant the body's owner had given him the serum. The question was, why give it to him and then imprison him? Or did he imprison him first and then give him the serum?
But it didn't make sense. He had plenty of animals to test the serum on, and it was clear he wasn't on good terms with the scarred man.
The prison beneath the mansion was shrouded in darkness. If not for the torches barely lighting the path, I wouldn't have dared approach him. I stood before his cell like a statue, the shadows concealing us both, preventing eye contact.
"Look at fate. The great Emiric stands before me, afraid of me, hahaha."
"Let's not start like this. Provocation strategies won't work on me. It's clear your power is starting to manifest, and it's also clear it has something to do with reading minds. That's why you offered me help now. State your terms."
I didn't know what he'd seen the first time he looked into my eyes. I had to show no weakness before him.
"Hahaha."
Damn his laugh.
"It seems I forgot that you are still you, memory loss or not."
So, he knows about the memory loss.
"How did you know about the memory loss?"
"Don't play dumb now. You're trying to extract information from me without giving anything in return. Obviously, you deduced it from our previous encounter."
So, he really had read my thoughts. What else had he seen?
"Are you wondering what else I might've seen?"
Damn it. Damn it. Has his power evolved? Can he read thoughts without eye contact now?
Involuntarily, I took a few steps back to widen the distance between us, hoping his abilities were range-dependent.
"Don't worry. My powers are still limited because I can't see you. It was just a guess. Relax, hahaha."
Damn it. I couldn't relax. I couldn't predict his thoughts without seeing his face or his eyes. Facing him left me utterly exposed. I was truly powerless here.
"Are you going to say what you have, or..."
He snorted.
"You still don't know who I am, do you?"
While not answering his speculation was an answer in itself, there was nothing I could do. The bastard was smart. I had to admit it. Combined with his ability, he was terrifying.
"If I knew even a little about you, you wouldn't tell my identity to anyone—not counting that dumb kid you've tamed. But because of your memory loss, you're completely in the dark, just like the darkness you're standing in now. He's too unreliable—his anger is one thing, and his stupidity is another, isn't it?"
"Stop whispering and trying to get into my head. If your next sentence doesn't include anything useful, no matter how you wag your tail after I walk away, I won't come back and give you another chance."
"I can restore your memory. Do you think that's an interesting enough sentence?"
Restore my memory? Could he really? Of course, this body isn't mine, and technically, it's my soul that entered it. The original owner's memory should be stored somewhere in the brain.
With his mental abilities, he could access my mind and unlock closed doors, but it was incredibly risky.
"As proof of my sincerity, I'll read the girl's mind. Your idea to use her clothing brand as a lead was smart, but all it would do is narrow your search. There's still a lot of work and time involved. I can save you all that trouble."
Damn his intelligence.
Fine, Hank wasn't the only one who figured it out. Why wouldn't he?
But leaving everything in his hands irritated me, especially since I didn't know who he was or have any way to ensure he'd keep his word.
Does he only read minds? Can he control them? Even if he couldn't now, like the lab samples, his abilities could evolve over time. If he couldn't now, he might be able to tomorrow.
Danger. Danger. Danger.
"Sir."
I turned toward Hank's voice.
He really was someone reliable.
He stood at a distance where his voice was barely audible to me, careful not to take a single step closer so he wouldn't hear anything I didn't want him to.
I approached him, and he handed me his phone.
"We've received her information,".
I took the phone and read the details.
Damn it.
Clutching the phone, I rushed out without sparing the scarred man another glance, leaving the prison and heading upstairs.
Do I look like a joke to you?