My face flushed as I held the warm bowl of porridge. Looking at the familiar handwriting on the note, my heart skipped a beat, then began to race. The harshness of the night before seemed to evaporate with this single gesture of care. That idiot, I thought, blushing, what on earth did you do?
I stepped out of my broken cell, my legs trembling as I walked down the corridor. It was strange—the precinct was silent. I expected a bloodbath, but everything was unnervingly clean. The floors sparkled, and every few meters, a vase of crimson roses had been neatly placed.
Meanwhile, in the top-floor executive office, the CEO and Yuchi were sipping wine, blissfully unaware of the shadow looming over them.
"Tomorrow, I'll force Hime to sign a confession," the CEO chuckled, his filthy hand stroking Yuchi's thigh.
"Make sure she's utterly ruined," Yuchi sneered. "I want to see her face when—"
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
A slow, rhythmic knock interrupted them. Yuchi snapped, "Who is it? Don't you know what time it is?"
The door creaked open. No one entered, but an automated food cart rolled into the center of the room. On it were two plates covered with silver lids. A pink note was stuck to one: "Breakfast for the most 'special' guests."
Curious, the CEO lifted his lid. He instantly let out a horrific shriek, his wine glass shattering on the floor. It wasn't food—it was the ten fingers of his closest bodyguards, arranged into a perfect sunflower.
Yuchi trembling, opened her plate. She went deathly pale; it was her own long hair, shorn off completely while she slept without her even realizing it, with a scalpel stabbed right through the center.
"Good morning, little rats."
Mike's voice echoed through the building's PA system. It was back to that sweet, pouting tone, yet it sent a lethal chill down their spines.
"My Hime is eating breakfast, so I had to prepare something for you too, right? Don't run... I've 'redecorated' every exit with barbed wire. Enjoy your meal!"
They scrambled for the door, but the moment they touched the handle, a high-voltage shock sent them flying back. From the shadows of the curtains, Mike stepped out, holding a single rose, a bright smile on his face.
"The game... has only just begun, hasn't it?"
The opulent office was now thick with the smell of scorched flesh and stifled moans. Mike leisurely removed his uniform jacket, leaving only his white shirt with the sleeves neatly rolled up. He hummed a classical tune while pulling a set of gleaming surgical tools from beneath the cart.
"Now... who will be the first 'model' for my 'Repentance' collection?"
Mike looked at the trembling CEO, then at the sobbing Yuchi. He clicked his tongue and approached the CEO first.
"You liked touching Hime with this hand, didn't you?"
STAB!
A long, slender needle pierced through the nerve in the CEO's wrist, but he couldn't scream because Mike had already taped his mouth shut. Mike didn't amputate; he began to "sculpt." He used a scalpel to meticulously carve hair-thin lines on the back of the man's hand, slowly peeling away the thin layer of skin to reveal the pulsating muscles and veins beneath.
"Exquisite..." Mike whispered, his crimson eyes gleaming with madness. "This filthy skin doesn't deserve your blood."
Turning to Yuchi, Mike flashed an angelic smile, but his eyes were as cold as ice. He took her freshly shorn hair and casually wrapped it around her neck like a fashionable scarf.
"And you... you loved using this tongue to badmouth her, didn't you?"
Mike pulled out a medical clamp, forcing Yuchi's mouth open. He didn't cut her tongue immediately; instead, he dropped a special chemical onto it, causing it to swell and paralyze, a sensation like thousands of fire ants biting from the inside.
"Don't worry, I won't let you die so soon," Mike said, checking their heart rates on a monitor. "I've injected you both with a neuro-stimulant. Your senses are ten times sharper now. Every cut, every breath... you'll feel it in the most 'vivid' way possible."
The room became a workshop of horrors. Mike paced between his two "specimens," occasionally stopping to refine a line on their bodies with the precision of the world's finest surgeon. To him, this wasn't revenge; it was his way of purifying the trash that dared to stain Hime's world.
Mike paused to change his gloves, the old pair soaked with the blood seeping from the CEO. He walked to the luxury bookshelf, picking up a jar of premium forest honey and a box of giant beetles—part of his "private collection."
"You know, a quick death is a waste of art."
Mike casually spread the sweet honey over the CEO's exposed muscle fibers and dumped the beetles onto them. The insects began to crawl and gnaw at nerves that were ten times more sensitive than usual. The CEO's eyes rolled back, his body convulsing violently, unable to make any sound but muffled grunts.
Turning back to Yuchi, who had fainted from terror, Mike wasn't finished. He poured a pitcher of ice-cold water directly onto her face.
"Wake up, darling. The main act hasn't even started."
Using ultra-thin steel thread, Mike began sewing Yuchi's lips into a permanent, eternal smile. He moved slowly, stitch by stitch, as if embroidering on fine silk.
"You always wanted to mock Hime, didn't you? Now you'll smile forever. Beautiful... you look just like a broken doll."
Yuchi's tears and blood mingled, streaming down her neck. But the peak of the horror came when Mike pulled a large mirror out and placed it in front of them.
"Look... this masterpiece is called The Silence of Traitors. You'll admire yourselves in this perfect state until your hearts stop. Don't worry, I've hooked you up to life support; you'll get to 'enjoy' this pain for at least another 48 hours."
Mike stripped off his gloves and adjusted his pristine white collar—the mark of a genius butcher. He checked his watch, his expression shifting back to his usual sweet, pouting self.
"Damn, I'm late! Hime must have finished her porridge; I have to go carry her home. I'd hate for her to be scared of the dark."
He picked up a rose from the floor, placed it amidst the carnage as a final farewell, and strolled out, leaving behind a room filled with blood and absolute despair.