Chapter 58
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 057
Chapter Title: Daily Routine
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Creak... slam.
A fishy metallic stench assaulted the air. More precisely, the smell of blood.
A stench from flesh chunks that had been left to fester and rot for ages, sticking gooily to the floor and walls.
A cramped chamber surrounded by pitch-black stone walls.
Rusted hooks dangled thickly from the ceiling,
and the walls were lined with tools like iron tongs and hammers. All meant for use on humans.
Oddly shaped blades welcomed the new arrivals.
Of course, you couldn't forget the branding iron glowing red-hot in the fire.
The floor was soaked in red blood, like a drained kiddie pool,
squelching with every step.
At the center of the room, on a wooden table,
sat two torturers who had just finished their shift.
Wearing blood-dripping leather aprons,
they chatted casually, chuckling away.
"Ugh, fuck... tough one. Hey, got any sausages instead of jerky? Like ham or something."
"Plenty over there. Help yourself."
"Bullshit, how am I supposed to eat that rotten crap."
"Then shut up and give me more beer."
One rolled a smoke with bloodstained hands,
the other chugged dark beer from a wooden mug.
A mundane, bored conversation utterly out of place in this revolting space.
But the slaves from 21 to 24, who entered with me,
couldn't enjoy their banter. They trembled like leaves in the wind.
And for good reason.
"Groan...... ugh......"
In the corner by the drain, our poultry farm buddies from before lay sprawled.
Numbers 16 to 20. Their conditions were pure rags.
"......"
I scanned them indifferently.
Always the same, just different body parts.
Number 16, the man. His left arm twisted at a grotesque angle.
Like wringing out a wet towel, muscles and bones twisted whole. White bone poked through flesh, dangling.
Number 17, the old man. Both ears neatly sliced off.
Black-red blood gushed from the empty holes.
Number 19, the youth. Face-down on the floor, panting like a beast.
His back flayed from nape to waist along the spine, splayed open.
With each breath, white vertebrae writhed visibly amid red muscle.
Number 20, the woman. Gut deeply slashed.
Guts like intestines spilled out bright red.
It had to hurt, but she couldn't even scream, just gaping her mouth.
And number 18, that little girl.
"Heh...... hehehe......"
The kid sat against the wall, staring blankly into space.
Drool pooled at her mouth; her mind completely gone.
One cheek torn from lip to under ear,
exposing red gums like a grinning mouth.
Her left hand's five fingertips crushed, no nails left.
Chit-chat show versus gore show.
Definitely more stimulating than the butchers' lame talk.
At a glance,
19 and 20 looked ready to die if left alone.
Excessive bleeding or whatever, they could cross the River Styx any moment.
But.
"There, there, number 18. That really hurt, didn't it?"
In this hopeless show not even worth paying for,
one stunning beauty stood out like a sore thumb.
Pure white robe. Spotless, luxurious garb without a drop of blood.
Even generously, she didn't look over thirty.
A young woman with soft pink hair neatly braided,
narrow eyes squatting before the bloodied kid number 18,
"It's okay, it's okay. Big sis will make all the pain go away, alright? So no more tears."
Like soothing a little sister who fell off a slide,
she whispered sweetly, gently.
She softly clasped the kid's mangled hand,
and murmured softly.
"Light, heal."
A short, simple incantation.
Flash.
Warm golden light bloomed from her fingertips.
In an instant.
Torn cheek flesh writhed and knit together,
new white nails sprouted where they'd been yanked.
Her body restored good as new, like nothing happened.
Of course, the kid's eyes still hollow,
it didn't heal mental scars.
Anyway, that's why survival rates here were sky-high.
Each room held twenty to thirty at least.
Rooms 101 to 104 combined? Over a hundred humans.
Despite daily rotations of slicing, tearing, breaking,
almost no corpses went out. Great magic trick.
All thanks to that bitch,
that one bitch.
Right after torture ends, she turns these rags back to new.
No fellow priests, no aides. Just her alone,
handling the whole camp.
I know jack about mages, priests, mana, holy power,
but that level of healing,
"Oh dear, 19. Quite the gash. But it's fine~ Light, heal."
Flash!
Like sealing that youth's split-back in seconds,
way more capable than that fat pig priest who charged 62 gold per 'miracle'.
Not even comparable to potions.
Even high-grade? Doubt it matches this performance.
And she spams them continuously,
like breathing, fixing everyone,
"All done~!"
without a hint of fatigue. Voice full of pep.
'......Fucking monster bitch.'
Torture?
Fucking sucks. Hurts.
But daily repetition? Now it's just routine.
Take those two torturers. Butcher boys.
One fat, one skinny, both ugly as sin.
Their faces feel familiar now.
And they've tortured so many slaves, variety and flair are pro-level.
Like sampling cuisines, spicy, deep flavors...
I'm at that adaptation level.
Mind still sharp, too.
But,
"Yay! 25! I've been waiting forever!!"
"......Guh."
That bitch,
fuck.
She's terrifying.
Please, Byulrin, come save me.
Bust the wall or slaughter them, whatever...
"You'll tough it out great again today, right!? Huh!?"
Save me.
Let me out.
....
Clank.
Door shut.
21 to 24,
my coop buddies already tortured, healed, and gone out.
Left in the chamber: me, the two torturers,
and that crazy monster healer bitch.
Why just me?
"Here we go."
The big one chuckled, approaching.
Not the thin blades for others, but a massive saw.
Always think this,
why special treatment just for me.
"Eek!"
"Eek my ass, this fucker's acting again."
"......Tch, let's get it over with quick. Go easy today."
"Can't do that. I take pride in my work."
He tapped my thigh with the saw blade.
"Weird, huh. Others piss and cry at one fingernail,
but you stay fine after a week of this?"
"Bullshit, hurts like hell each time, what crap."
"It's your eyes, fucker. Your gaze."
Fuck, that eye shit again.
They weren't always chummy or special with me.
First day. Like other coop guys, five-man group torture.
Think they nailed my instep and shin?
I screamed and rolled like the rest.
Ended drained, panting.
[What's with this guy?]
Torturers poked around me.
[......Doesn't hurt?]
[Hah... hurts like dying, what bullshit...]
[Then why no begging? No 'spare me'?]
They nailed my fingers and arm extra right there.
Next day. Day after. Always extra service.
[How? His eyes don't break.]
[Fuck, ease up... you bastards......]
[Hah... damn, get the brand.]
More variety, higher intensity than others.
Next day.
Kept going.
"Your eyes, fucker. Your gaze."
Always yapping nonsense about my eyes,
while I writhe in agony, keep going with extras.
"We've done this over ten years, first time like you. First."
"Fuck, so what's the problem?"
And now,
this special treatment,
still no clue why.
Why they can't get enough of me.
Dad! If you're watching, tell me!
[Pussy! Wanna stick dick in pussy!]
Fucking demented old fart.
My fault for expecting.
"Let's start. Make progress today."
The approaching fucker shoved the huge saw in my face,
grinning yellow teeth wide.
"Even you can't hold at this level..."
Slice.
"...your sanity, right?"
Before finishing, he buried the saw deep in my left thigh.
Squelch. Scraaaape.
Flesh tearing, bone grinding.
"Grrrrgh......! Aaagh!!"
Dying pain. No acting.
Fuck, I'm no masochist,
sawing live flesh hurts like hell.
They didn't stop.
One grabbed my arm, smashed finger joints with hammer,
the other sawed thigh and calf like filleting fish.
Blood sprayed fountains everywhere.
Screaming, grinding teeth.
Temples and eyes felt bursting.
Amid it,
"Hah...... hah......!"
One grotesque sight in view.
The healer bitch who stayed back during others to avoid blood,
now right in my face.
Today too, same.
Splat! Splurt!
Blood from me soaked her white robe,
red speckles freckling her pale face,
yet she didn't dodge.
Leaned closer, eyes wide, peering intently.
"What do... hah, what do? Doesn't hurt? Huh? It must hurt..."
Squinting eyes flung open,
like admiring the world's finest art,
pupils dilated, mouth agape in ecstasy.
"Don't worry. I... absolutely... won't let you die...... just hold on a bit..."
"Fucking... ngh, psycho...... bitch......"
Those words barely out,
the skinny one beside big guy shoved hand in my mouth,
grabbed tongue, sliced.
Half severed. Shredded inside,
blood flooding mouth, streaming down jaw.
Pain.
Torment.
Dizzy.
Pain again.
How much time passed.
"Grrrk!"
Skinny torturer yanked a rib with tongs.
I couldn't scream, just gasped.
Body a shredded rag.
Limit now. Mind fading.
"Whew, good. That's enough."
"More and... hah, he'll croak, dumbass."
Torturers wiped sweat, backed off, panting too.
And, like waiting,
"Move...! Move!"
Healer bitch rushed me.
Plopped atop my bloodied body.
"Hah, hah... tough, huh...... hurts. Good job enduring, 25?"
She stroked my torn thigh, burst gut, sliced chest sloppily.
Saw her touch, felt nothing. Still creepy.
"Now... I'll fix you? Can't die......"
Lips moved.
"Light, heal. Heal. Heal. Heal. Heal......!"
Spells poured like bullets.
Five, six times. Golden healing waves enveloped me.
Sizzle.
Severed vessels reconnect, shattered bones mesh.
Shredded flesh knitting, regenerating sensation,
vivid through my body.
Her face flushed watching.
Breaths ragged, thighs rubbing.
"Nngh! Ah! Aah...!!"
My wounds fully closed, smooth new skin sprouting.
"Came... haah, ah... hee......"
She shuddered, buried face in my chest.
Her now half-red robe hiding,
piss pooling on floor.
Always like this.
"Hah... hng...... whew......"
She looked up dreamily, licking lips.
"All healthy now...... see you tomorrow, okay?"
......Crazy bitch.
That thought, then blackout.
....
Time passed since then.
Every day the same.
Locked here, called when time,
tortured, healed, watch crazy bitch climax, pass out.
Harsher torture, healed, watch her eyes roll back orgasming, pass out.
No difference.
Quiet all around.
Still packed since day one, no one's gone.
Just no one speaks.
Only breaths, dead silence like mice.
That guy who sneered 'whorehouse for you' at 18 girl.
Now curled in corner, sucking thumb.
Dead black eyes, occasional solo giggles, drooling.
Totally broken.
18 girl same. Hugging knees, rocking,
lips moving soundlessly, mumbling unknown words.
Strain eyes on lip shape,
"Sorry... sorry... mommy... sorry......"
Apparently.
What'd she do so wrong.
Thinking that,
thud.
Number 12 youth's arm brushed nearby man while shifting in sleep.
"Eek!?"
Man jolted up terrified.
Smashed head on floor screaming.
"S-sorry! Spare me! Won't do it!! Please!!"
His freakout made 12 panic, headbutting too.
Room filled with terrified screams, pleas instantly.
Bang! Bang!
"Shut up! Noisy fucks!"
Guard passing corridor whacked bars with club. One hit.
"......"
Silence returned magically.
All flinched, mouths shut tight.
"Damn, impressive."
Couldn't help admiring.
Every soul here, like this.
Bodies fine, souls pulverized to dust.
Perfectly broken, perfectly tamed.
Ruben Kingdom Slave Reformation Academy.
Bodies intact, education top-notch. Perfect results.
Set up in Gangnam Daechi-dong, word-of-mouth among parents guaranteed.
Rake in cash, expand to Gangseo, Gangbuk.
Seoul-wide signs inevitable.
"......Hah."
I leaned against wall, swallowed deep sigh.
Among these psychos, even I'd go mad.
Eyes open? This mess. Better shut.
Closed eyes quietly.
Stopped breathing familiarly.
"......Whew."
Cultivation. Accumulation.
Energy seeped through skin, flowed veins.
Nothing to do in this shithole coop, time overflows.
So I pour waking hours into this.
Rice-grain energy lump in dantian,
now decently heavy, grape-sized maybe.
Of course, useless still, but perks.
Clears cluttered mind, cuts stress.
Deep focus holding breath,
even forget this hellhole briefly.
No reason not to.
How long in trance.
Clank, clank.
Bar door unlocking.
"Room 104."
Torture time already? Opened eyes.
"25, step out."
"......?"
25 who? Me.
......Me? Alone?
Usually five-man teams, called sequential from 1.
Solo call first time.
Dazed moment,
Bang!
"Out quick, fucker! No dawdling!"
"Hic... eek!"
"Sorry! Forgive me!!"
Bar slam, psychos rioted again.
Calling me, though.
"Sigh."
Rose with unease.
Slaves flinched, peeking fearfully.
'What.'
What bullshit event now, calling me solo.
Whatever,
not good.
My fate.
Fate.
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