Electric Torture

Evening arrived, and Leviathan returned to the execution ground.

Before he came, we had been swinging our pickaxes without pause, yet we already knew how this would end.

"Haa. Haa. Hoo…. Hek…."

Even Yejin, who had carved out the deepest pit, had managed only a little over two meters. I had dug one of nearly the same depth right after her. For all her effort, Jaehee had barely excavated a hole the height of her own body, while Ruia—forced to shuttle endlessly among the three of us, her throat crushed again and again—lay collapsed on the ground, clutching her throbbing arm.

No—every one of us was spent, sprawled and gasping on the dirt. Not a scrap of strength remained to lift a pickaxe again.

Yet rest was never going to be granted. On the contrary, the moment the returning guard stepped onto the execution ground, Leviathan’s voice boomed out our punishment.

"All of Cell 3, heads to the floor."

"Kh…!"

At his command we dropped our pickaxes and pressed ourselves down. Jaehee and I hit the ground at once; Ruia followed a beat later, copying our posture. Yejin still stood holding her pickaxe. From the look on her face she had been so absorbed in one last swing that she simply hadn’t heard.

Leviathan saw something else entirely.

"What’s this? Planning to resist with that pickaxe?"

"…What? Me?"

"Yes. A691."

"N-no, I was just—kh!! Kyaaugh!!"

"Head down."

"Ahhk…! Yes!!"

As if he had prepared for exactly this, Leviathan pressed a button and dropped Yejin where she stood. An electric jolt must have surged through her collar; she lost her grip on the pickaxe, clutched her throat, and sank to her knees—yet even then she obeyed, pressing her forehead to the earth in the most desperate show of innocence she could manage.

"I’ll inspect the work. Stay exactly as you are."

I drove my head into the dirt. The posture was new to me; my body kept swaying. My skull already ached too fiercely to plant properly, and under the dark night sky the sweat-crusted chill made my limbs tremble so hard that holding any single position felt nearly impossible.

"Hoo. Only this much…. What are you doing, A713? Fix your posture."

"Kh…! Yes!"

I abandoned any hope of the clean, hands-tucked-inside-the-cuffs form that Yejin and Jaehee had managed. Instead I braced both arms against the ground in a push-up stance and jammed my forehead into the soil. The cuffs still made even that agonizing, but it was the only way I could even pretend to comply. Fortunately Leviathan seemed to recognize my inexperience and let the imperfect version pass.

"The result is obvious. The only inmate who dug deeper than her own height is A691."

That was as far as any mercy went. We were formally notified that we had failed the labor quota and were issued Demeanor Penalty Points. Everyone except me received an additional one hundred points. I received three hundred.

"From this moment you will take your evening meal right here, then proceed straight into torture time. I’ll hand each of you one ration. Break posture and eat."

"…Yes."

Along with that dreadful announcement, Leviathan tossed us the same brown lumps we swallowed every morning and the tiny cup-sized bottles of water usually issued with mess-hall meals.

"I’m giving you a special ten-minute limit. Chew thoroughly. If anyone vomits during tonight’s torture, I will not let it slide."

"Yes."

We took the lumps and used the ten minutes. After hours of unbroken labor it was the closest thing to rest we would get. The lump was tasteless, yet washed down with water it became almost edible. Having always forced it down dry, the sudden damp, sticky texture felt strangely complex. Still… how grateful I was simply to breathe for a moment. Every careful chew brought a wave of misery and self-pity I could not name.

Only the fifth day. Yet five days, it turned out, was more than enough time for a heart to break.

After the meal we were marched to the torture wing.

"…."

We walked in silence, yet the dread each of us carried bled into the others until the air itself felt thick with fear. Jaehee’s eyes, especially, held a quiet worry for me.

Three hundred points. Added to the one hundred twenty-three from the first day and the separate thirty I had already collected, my total had been one hundred fifty-three. Now three hundred more slammed down at once, bringing me to four hundred fifty-three. No—wait—there had been another ten before the three hundred, so four hundred sixty-three.

A688 had said execution candidates were usually chosen around the three-hundred mark. I had no idea who currently held the highest score or by how much, but I was clearly in the danger zone. The execution I had once believed belonged to someone else now stood right in front of me. I had never experienced torture, so the reality still felt distant—yet the slow, crawling terror was unmistakable.

I was afraid. I was terrified.

And standing before the torture rooms only made it worse.

"Each of you, stand in front of a chamber."

Three hundred points. Converted to time the way it had been on the first day, that was three hundred minutes—five full hours. Converted to strokes the way it had been on the second day, three hundred lashes would leave no skin intact. Facing a torture that was practically an execution itself, I could not stop shaking. My body simply shook on its own.

"We’ll start with A713, who earned the most points today. Inside."

"…Yes."

I obeyed and stepped through the door. The instant I entered, I understood what tonight’s torture would be.

"Sit."

"Hic…! Yes…."

A single chair waited in the center of the room. It was wooden, fitted with leather straps and buckles on the armrests and ankle restraints at the base. Midway up the backrest a wire loop hung ready to cinch around a throat; the free end could be locked at any moment.

"You know what this is?"

"…Yes. Hic!"

A hiccup of pure terror escaped me. The chair itself was only a mass of restraints—but the machine beside it and the black-and-red cables snaking from it told me everything. The classic of every film and drama, the old reliable of real-world torment.

Electric torture.

"Uu… uuhh."

My cuffs were removed. At a single gesture from Leviathan I sat in the dreaded chair. No order was needed; my hands and feet found the restraints ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of their own accord, as if perfect obedience might somehow lessen the pain. I already knew it would not. All I could do was offer that desperate submission and silently beg him not to make it worse.

"My, that eager for the torture? Fine. Tonight’s session will be long anyway."

"Uu… uuhh… yes.… Hic… ah…."

Within moments I was fully bound. Wrists and ankles locked to the wood, the wire around my throat drawn tight enough that rising was impossible. I was a prisoner of the chair.

"Right. For electric work, these spots, yes?"

"Ahhk…! ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Eut…!"

Cables from the machine were fastened to my body. Several ended in square pads pressed to the insides of my thighs, the upper slopes of my breasts, and the place over my womb. The two thickest, longest leads terminated in clamps that closed over my nipples. The camisole-style prison uniform left my chest bare; with the clamps biting down I felt exactly like a sex slave being punished.

What would happen once the current began? I had never felt it, so I could not truly imagine—yet electricity was real enough to kill, real enough to serve as a method of execution. The fear only grew.

"Preparations complete. See you when it’s over."

"Hic! Yes…. Hic!"

The hiccups worsened. Nothing hurt yet. The clamps on my nipples pinched a little, but they were fixed pressure types rather than spring-loaded, so the bite was mild. They were also nearly impossible to shake off. That alone promised a torture strong enough to make the clamps’ discomfort irrelevant.

In the chair, under that kind of agony, the only thing left would be—

"Hic! Uu… uaa…."

—uncontrollable hiccups.

—Clank.

Leviathan left. The door sealed. Then the torture chamber’s distinctive mechanical voice filled the air.

I know. I already know. So please… stop talking.

Fear crashed over me in a wave. Hiccups and full-body tremors arrived together. Unknown pain. The cruelty that was about to be delivered.

The announcement was longer than usual and deliberately designed to stoke terror. An indirect experience of execution. Already drowning in dread from my sky-high points, that extra warning nearly shattered what remained of my mind.

"Ah… aaa…!"

I had clung to the faint hope that Leviathan might show a scrap of mercy and shave off even a few minutes. That future did not exist. Three hundred thirty minutes. Five and a half hours of electric torture.

—Clank. Thud.

The sealed door locked a second time. Alone inside the perfect airtight chamber, I heard the machine’s final announcement.

"Hic… ah… hic! N-no…. Ah…."

The terrifying message ended. A residual tone hung in the air, announcing the true beginning.

At once the machine beside the chair lit up. The needle on its gauge began to twitch, climbing toward higher numbers.

—Ziiiiii

"Hyaaugh…!! Ah…! Uu… uuut…!"

A sensation like needles stabbing through the pads and my nipples flooded me. Because it was the first surge, the pain was still bearable. I clenched my teeth and squeezed my eyes shut; it felt only like someone pricking me over and over.

"Haut… hic! Eut… ah… ahhk…!"

It was torment all the same. My fingers twitched without my permission. I could endure it—yet the pain was paradoxically hard to bear, and it never stopped.

"Ah… uuuk! Uugut…!"

So this was electric torture. The electric hum in my ears and the uncontrollable agony of my body carved a pain I had never known into my flesh. If I had to describe it: as though someone were driving needles into every part of me and stirring them around. Still, I could hold on. The needle-prick pain arrived in many places at once, but each individual point was not yet severe. Opening and closing my fists again and again let me shake a little of it off.

"Hau… eut…!"

One worry remained. Even if I could stand it now, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠could I last three hundred thirty minutes—more than five hours? Honestly, the first thought that came was that it was impossible. Simply sitting in a chair for five hours was already hard; adding this constant pain made the reality unbearable.

"Kyaaut… haa. Haa. Haa. Wh-what…?"

Then, suddenly, the current cut off.

"Hoo. Haa… ha. Uu… haa…."

I caught my breath and looked sideways. The machine still glowed, but the needle had stopped its earlier dance. Had it broken? If so, a sliver of hope might have appeared. Even if it hadn’t, the mere existence of this pause was hope. A rest period inserted between waves of electricity meant the five hours might actually be survivable.

"Hoo~."

A sigh of relief slipped out on its own. All right. Five hours. Maybe I can make it.

"Haa. Hoo~ Hyu."

The rest lasted a surprisingly long time—roughly three minutes by my rough sense. My hiccups even stopped. For a brief span I simply leaned fully against the chair back and stared blankly ahead. How long had the torture run before the break? And… the rest time wasn’t being subtracted from the total, was it? Probably not. At the start the machine had specifically said the torture time was “continuous”—a phrase I had never heard in previous sessions. It must have been added precisely because of these pauses. In that case, tonight’s torture almost seemed… doable.

But that was the enormous miscalculation of a girl who had only been here five days.

—Ziiiiiiiiii—

"Kyaaugh!! Ah…!! Ahhk!!"

The needle moved again. Electric torture resumed without warning, and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the pain was far worse than before. If the earlier sensation had been needles, this was an awl; the weight of the agony had changed. Startled, I clenched my teeth against the surge and stared at the machine. There I noticed something I had missed earlier.

The number at the tip of the wildly swinging gauge needle.

Before the rest it had pointed to [1].

Now it pointed to [2].

"Haugh…! D-don’t tell me… ah… aaagh!! No! No!!"

And above the gauge, the scale climbed to a total of [5] stages… with a separate marking beyond that that simply read [MAX].