A low buzzing sound resonated in my head before the faint light managed to penetrate my awareness.
Did I pass out from the beating?
I gingerly touched my throbbing temple with my swollen fingers. The pain was excruciating.
Slowly, I pushed my bound body up to sit on the floor. The adhesive tape still wrapped tightly around me, making any significant movement a struggle. I was in a cold corner of the room, leaning against the dirty wall.
I lifted my gaze, trying to locate my attackers. No one was there.
The place was semi-dark, with a faint light filtering in from a narrow, barely visible window. As my eyes adjusted, the scene began to clarify piece by piece.
Then I saw it.
It wasn't just a few spots of blood. A massive pool of blood covered the small staircase completely. The blood was copious, and the smell of iron filled the place.
I didn't notice this before...
Those stains definitely weren't there when I was being beaten and tied up earlier. The blood was fresh and horrifyingly glossy in the faint light.
My hands were still bound together at the wrist. My hand, hanging loose, dropped to the floor beside me and touched something solid and cold.
Click.
My fingers gripped the small object. I lifted my hand with difficulty to see what I had grabbed. It was a wristwatch.
It wasn't ordinary. It was a massive men's watch with a thick metallic band. The display was partially shattered, but it still showed the time.
I stared at it for a few seconds, and then an icy coldness struck my heart.
I've seen it before.
The painful memory flashed through my mind with lightning speed: It's the massive man's watch!
I clearly remembered the metallic gleam around his wrist as he first brandished the bat, and right before he delivered the finishing punch. It was the same watch—oversized, slightly cracked on the side.
I froze in place.
The copious blood on the stairs. The massive man's watch lying here. The absolute silence. The complete absence of the three men.
The blood and the watch couldn't just be a coincidence, could they?
Doubt began to creep into my heart, quickly replaced by silent horror. What kind of coincidence was this? Did they fight among themselves after I passed out? Did something else happen... something supernatural?
As those thoughts wrestled in my head, another idea—a word, a desire—emerged from the dark recesses of my mind, right before I lost consciousness.
"I hope you are all crushed to death!"
That was my last wish. Those were the words that had escaped my mouth, mixed with the metallic taste of blood.
My face turned completely pale, and I felt as if I couldn't breathe again.
Is... is this possible?
My mind plunged into a whirlpool of terror. The silence around me felt heavy.
Damn it! I cursed furiously in my mind, my eyes fixed on the thick blood covering the stairs. I'm an idiot! I neglected something crucial!
In the midst of all this pain and confusion, I hadn't thought clearly. I forgot that I wasn't just some ordinary person reincarnated into a new body; I was now in the body of Toge from that cursed anime.
Toge!
He possesses the Cursed Speech ability. The words he speaks become reality.
I remembered the names I was shouting: "Salmon," "Tonkatsu," "Mackerel"... those were the "safe words" in the anime used to avoid accidentally activating the powerful ability!
And here I was, the fool, having unleashed my most powerful, murderous wish—"I hope you are all crushed to death!"—directly onto my enemies.
A surge of cold excitement hit me. Did this mean I now possessed the same Cursed Speech ability?
I tried to test it immediately. I focused my energy, attempting to shout a clear, powerful word to break my bonds.
"T—"
Nothing came out but a miserable whisper, exactly as before. I couldn't articulate anything clear. All I managed was:
"Tuna..."
It was just a regular safe word, without power or effect. I couldn't activate the power if I couldn't speak the word clearly and completely.
I smiled bitterly. What a cruel irony! A lethal wish escapes me by mistake at the last moment to kill them, yet I cannot utter a simple word to free myself now.
I looked at the pools of blood and the smell of iron filling the place. Should I feel guilty?
I immediately answered myself coldly: No.
They tried to kill me. They were preparing to put out my eye with a scorching knife. I was unknowingly defending my life. What happened to them was the result of their own actions.
I pushed my body forward forcefully, trying to get to my feet. I had to move. I had to see what happened and find a way out.
But the cursed tape still wrapped around me with unbelievable tenacity. I strained my arms, but the tape was so thick and tight that I started to feel dizzy from the useless exertion.
I need a tool.
My eyes returned to my bound hands and the cold, small object I still clutched: the massive man's shattered watch.
The watch itself wasn't important; the broken glass was. Its screen was cracked, and the sharp edges were my only hope.
The shattered piece of glass was my only hope. I gripped it between my bound fingers.
Friction!
I began rubbing the adhesive tape with frantic strength. The task was incredibly difficult, almost impossible; the thick tape was designed to hold me firmly. I targeted the point where the tape wrapped around my wrist, pressing the small piece of glass hard against the tough plastic material.
Shhhk! Shhhk!
The sound of the glass scraping against the tape was an agonizing screech in the frightening silence. I felt some minor cuts and scratches bleeding on my hands, but I didn't care. My focus was entirely on severing this damned restraint.
I continued to press and rub until I finally felt a slight slackening where the friction was focused.
Success!
A feeling of victory crept into my heart, boosting my strength. I continued cutting, using the already-frayed part as a guide, slicing the adhesive material layer by layer. The cutting took a long time, and my hands started to feel numb from the severe pressure and exhaustion, in addition to the pain caused by the glass scratching them.
I kept working, and finally—Breakthrough!
I felt the final tear in the tape, and the adhesive material suddenly snapped apart. The thick tape restraints fell from my wrists, and my numb hands were free. The shattered watch dropped from my grip onto the floor with a muffled clatter.
I tried to move my fingers, but they were heavy and painful. Blood covered my wrists from the minor cuts.
With great difficulty, I began unwrapping the rest of the adhesive tape from around my chest and legs. The more I unwrapped, the deeper I could breathe, and the more mobility I regained.
When I was completely free, I stood up, swaying precariously on my feet. I looked around the room, then down at the floor covered by the blood of the three missing men.
I sighed, my breath heavy and sorrowful. There was no escaping reality: I was surrounded by blood, and lives had been lost because of me, whether intentionally or not.
I thought to myself, my eyes fixed on the stairs: [I cannot live in this cursed house in this state.]
This place was already unsuitable for living; I must get out of here immediately.
I turned toward the partially broken door and settled my resolve.
I must get out of this place.
With every painful step, I began to exit this miserable location, leaving everything behind.