The First Princess Assassination Incident (5)
The battle had been ferocious. Its aftermath left my body pushed to the absolute limit of exhaustion. There wasn't a single stretch of skin from my shoulders to my arms and legs that wasn't slick with blood. The self-inflicted wound on the left side of my face had grown so severe I could no longer feel anything there at all. It felt like I might lose consciousness and collapse at any second, yet I clung desperately to my awareness.
There was still one final matter I had to see through to the end.
“Hoo… Right, then. Shall we have a little chat?”
I stood over the robed figure, sword in hand. Both his arms had been severed at the wrists; he lay writhing on the floor. I planted my foot firmly on his stomach to pin him down and pressed the tip of my blade against his throat.
The robed man let out a scornful laugh, as if my actions were beneath him.
“Haha. Planning to torture me, are you?”
“That’s right.”
“Then I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed. Regrettably, this body of mine cannot feel pain.”
“......”
Now that he mentioned it, I remembered. The Seekers placed a hypnotic suggestion on every operative they sent into the field—one that prevented them from feeling pain. It raised the odds of mission success and ensured that, even if captured, they would never break under interrogation.
“Why waste your strength? Wouldn’t it be better to just kill me?”
He wore an ugly, triumphant smile, convinced he had the upper hand. I bit down hard on my lip and lowered my head.
To dispel the suggestion, a specific incantation was required. Naturally, it was a closely guarded secret known only to the Seekers’ upper echelon. Outsiders had no way of learning it. He was mocking me, cleverly exploiting that very fact.
“If you don’t believe me, go ahead and try. Since I’m going to die anyway, it makes no difference to me.”
“......”
His relaxed demeanor made my eyes snap wide open. Before I realized it, my fists were clenched tight. A violent storm of emotion churned in my chest.
Finally, I raised my bowed head and—
“Pfft… Phuh… Puhahaha!!”
—burst into laughter. It sounded as if I had just heard the funniest joke in the world. It wasn’t a sneer born of disgust, nor a hollow chuckle born of despair. It was pure, unfiltered delight.
“......?”
The robed man frowned, staring at me in confusion. His eyes clearly asked whether I had finally lost my mind.
Only after coughing up a thick clot of blood could I stop laughing.
“Cough… Haa… My apologies. It seems I’m having trouble controlling my emotions.”
“You really are insane.”
“Perhaps I am.”
I flashed him a bright smile. Then I pressed down harder with the foot planted on his torso and spoke.
“You said your body cannot feel pain, correct?”
“I did indeed.”
“And you also told me I could carve you up however I liked?”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to make you regret those words.”
The incantation to release the suggestion—known only to the Seekers’ leadership. Did he truly believe I wouldn’t know it? Me, who had read the story of this world hundreds of times over? Especially the section that detailed your fatal weakness, treated as a crucial plot point in the original narrative?
"As the will of inquiry commands…"
"O oblivion that reaps the natural order, disperse."
⟨ Break Forget ⟩
The moment I recited the incantation treated as top secret even among the Seekers, the robed man’s face flooded with terror. His pupils trembled violently as his composure shattered. That look of panic soon twisted into agony.
“Aaaah…! Ah, kuaaaaaaaaagh!!”
He flailed the stumps of his severed arms, screaming. It seemed the suggestion had been lifted.
I stomped down harder on his writhing body, suppressing any resistance.
“Why the sudden change? I haven’t even begun the torture yet.”
“My hands…! My hands…!!”
“Stay still. You’re being a nuisance.”
To silence the panicking man, I lifted my foot—then kicked his torso with unrestrained glee.
-Thwack! Crunch… Crack!!
At first he twitched and tried to fight back, but as time passed he seemed to grow accustomed to the pain. His movements gradually ceased.
“Ae… uh… aaaaah……”
He had become a half-cripple, capable only of faint moans. I seized him by the hair and forcibly lifted his head.
“You can’t pass out already.”
Hadn’t I told him? The torture hadn’t even started.
With those words, I began driving the sword into his body.
-Shuk! Stab…! Crunch, splurt!!
Arms, shoulders, legs, knees, ankles—the merciless blade severed every tendon one by one. All he could do while pinned and mutilated was scream hideously.
“Uwaaaaaaaaaah!!!”
I continued my work with those refreshing shrieks as background music. The sword pierced him again and again, stirring his insides. Bright red blood sprayed. Chunks of flesh scattered. The thick stench of blood stung my nose. Disgusting. Yet even that sentiment now felt laughably trivial.
I was drunk on hatred.
-I’m sorry… our… son…
-It would have been better… if you had died that day instead of Mother…
-Young master… please, stop now.
Too many things had been destroyed. The things I wanted to protect. The things I had loved. The things I had cherished. I had been forced to lose them all, one by one.
“Haha…! Yes, squirm more. More…!!”
My throat tightened. Even when arrows had pierced my gut and blades had sliced my flesh, my breathing had never faltered—yet now it came in ragged, unstable gasps. Heat burned at the corners of my eyes, and lukewarm tears traced lines down my cheeks.
It was a complicated feeling. I couldn’t tell whether the heavy emotion filling my chest came from ecstasy or from sorrow. The corners of my mouth were stretched wide in apparent joy, yet tears kept falling. Which one reflected my true heart?
-Crunch…! Stab, thrust!!
I finished the task without ever finding an answer. Well, it didn’t really matter. Whichever it was, it wouldn’t change what I was about to do next.
“Uwaaaah… uergh…”
I turned my gaze toward the groaning voice beneath me. The robed man now resembled nothing more than a living corpse. With every tendon in his body severed, he could no longer resist; he could only whimper and moan through his mouth.
“Fortunately, you’re not dead yet.”
I wiped the mess of blood and tears from my face and muttered indifferently. Then I picked up a liquor bottle that had fallen nearby. Though the glass was scratched in several places, its contents remained intact.
I shook it in front of his eyes.
“Do you know what this is?”
“Kuhak… kugh…!!”
Still trapped in agony, he could only respond with groans. I smiled gently and kindly explained the liquor’s purpose.
“If I had to describe it… this is a spirit with an alcohol content of eighty-nine percent.”
A liquor at 89%. Of course, it hadn’t been prepared for drinking. It was merely decorative, placed on a few tables for ambiance.
“Ordinary liquor doesn’t catch fire easily. But when the proof is this high, the story changes.”
Liquor begins to ignite at roughly forty percent. The spirits bartenders use for fire shows are usually around seventy-five. Anything above eighty catches fire exceptionally well and refuses to be extinguished. In short, a liquor at eighty-nine percent was—
“—an extremely flammable substance.”
No different from high-grade gasoline.
Perhaps because I had emphasized the word “fire,” he immediately grasped my intention.
“You crazy… crazy bastard…!”
“What are you imagining? I merely said it’s a liquor that catches fire well…”
“Haha, don’t…!! P-please, spare me!”
“Really now. I wonder what exactly you’re begging me not to do.”
I gave him the same vile smile he had given me earlier. Inside my head, there was only one thought: This son of a bitch must die in the greatest terror and the most excruciating pain imaginable.
“I’ll show you more than whatever you’re imagining.”
With those words, I smashed the top off the bottle. Then I slowly tilted it over the trembling man.
-Glug… glug…
A viscous liquid poured out with a soft sound, flowing smoothly over his right arm. The moment the liquor touched his skin, he let out a shrill scream.
“Hiiiiiiiiik!!!”
I pinned the twitching, struggling man firmly beneath my foot. Then I reached into my suit pocket, pulled out several matches, and struck one. A single flame bloomed atop it.
“They say the most painful sensation in the world is burning pain, don’t they?”
-Hiss!
That gentle flicker was beautiful, and utterly cruel.
“Endure it with all your might.”
The match slipped from my fingertips. The elegantly falling spark met the liquor-soaked right arm—
-Whoosh!
Flames erupted with a roar, and an ear-splitting scream tore through the air.
“Uwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!”
His right arm was burning. Fiercely. The smell of cooking flesh spread through the hall. Popping, crackling sounds leaked out like kindling thrown onto a campfire.
-Crackle! Pop, crack!
The pain must have been unbearable; his eyes had rolled back and his body convulsed. He struggled desperately to escape, but what could a crippled wretch whose every tendon had been severed possibly do? He was fated to simply endure the agony of being roasted alive.
“Kuaaaah! Aaaaaaaaah!! Stoooooop!!!”
For a long while, I leisurely savored the grotesque screams echoing in my ears. It felt like both my duty and my rightful privilege.
“Ugh… ugh… ugeuk…”
When his arm had been sufficiently charred and the flames threatened to spread to his torso—
-Slice!
I severed the burning limb and kicked it far away so it wouldn’t cling to him. He was forced to continue his shrill moans, now from the fresh agony of amputation that replaced the burning pain.
I looked down at him and asked, “Why do you suppose I only set one arm on fire?”
“Kuhup… kk… kkeok…”
“If you died all at once, I would feel far too wronged.”
This was a chance for revenge I had waited years to seize.
Saying so, I poured liquor over him once more—this time on the opposite arm.
“Both arms. Both legs. Torso. And finally, your face.”
“Uh… kk… ughugh… keogeok…”
“The right arm is already finished, so… only five more times left. Hold on just a little longer.”
I would set fire to one part, burn it moderately, then cut it away. I intended to repeat the process, torturing him without letting him die. I was slightly worried he might go into shock and perish midway, but… well, a mid-ranking executive of the Seekers shouldn’t die from merely losing his limbs.
“I believe in you, so please live up to my expectations.”
“Ah… no…! No!! D-don’t do it!!!”
The robed man realized my plan and screamed desperately. His voice had grown completely hoarse, making his words slurred and broken.
“I-I’ll t-tell you…! Everything you want to know…!!”
Covered in tears and snot, he begged me to stop. I offered him a gentle smile.
Yes. This was the correct attitude for conversation. One should say what the other person wants to hear. Since he was showing such a commendable reaction, it would be rude of me not to respond in kind.
“Shall I stop?”
“Aaaah, uwaaaaaah!!”
He nodded frantically, giving a vehement affirmative. For a brief moment, hope flickered across his pain-filled eyes.
I knew the truth. Despair becomes far more agonizing when hope exists.
“Well, I suppose I have done quite a lot. I’ll let you go n—”
“Ah, aaaaah……”
“—ot.”
With a sly laugh, I dropped the match I was holding.
“Kuaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!”
His body burst into flame once more, and grotesque screams reverberated throughout the banquet hall.