The Eve of Execution, a Feast of Depravity

The Imperial Palace Plaza bustled with a dense crowd. To Abel, the vibrant heart of the city felt like a yawning abyss of absolute emptiness. The guilt of being the sole survivor weighed heavily on his shoulders, making every step feel as heavy as lead. Before his eyes, the haunting image of Risa's final moments replayed in a relentless, agonizing loop.

In the chaotic raid on the Revolutionary Army's hideout, Abel had desperately tried to hide Risa in a secret compartment within his quarters. But she had fiercely pushed his hand away, knocking him unconscious to save him instead. 'I'm sorry, Abel...!' Her final, tearful voice and the weak, trembling hands that had sealed him inside the hidden space were a phantom torment that tore his heart ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to shreds. He had spent countless sleepless nights plagued by nightmares, finding even the simple act of breathing to be an excruciating torture.

After the hideout was reduced to rubble, he had sifted through the debris, desperately searching for any trace of her. Yet, her body was nowhere to be found. That single, agonizing fact was Abel's sole salvation—and, at the same time, an unbearable source of hope.

'Risa... she might still be alive.'

His rational mind knew how microscopic that possibility was, but his heart clung to that thread of hope with a drowning man's grip. Yearning and sorrow had already seeped into the very marrow of his bones. Risa's absence felt as though his entire life had been hollowed out. Her warm touch, her tender gaze, the future they had dared to dream of together—the memory of it all suffocated him.

Standing in the plaza, surrounded by the lively laughter of strangers, Abel felt utterly isolated. Their happiness only served as a cruel reminder of his own bleak reality. Ultimately, he could no longer endure this agonizing limbo. The sliver of hope that Risa was alive, that she might be held captive somewhere within the imperial walls, drove him to the brink of madness.

Without a second thought, heedless of the mortal peril, he began to march toward the imperial grounds. His heart hammered violently against his ribs, and a cold sweat of anxiety washed over him. The imperial territory was the most hazardous place imaginable for a member of the Revolutionary Army. He knew that discovery meant instant death, yet he could not stop. His eyes burned with a singular, desperate desire to find her.

Behind him, the clamor of the plaza faded into a dull hum. Before him, the colossal stone walls of the palace loomed like a dark, oppressive mountain. No one could predict what awaited him at the end of this reckless path. But Abel knew one thing with absolute certainty: without Risa, no future held any meaning. His grief and despair were rapidly curdling into a frantic, obsessive fixation.

As he hurried toward the palace, he noticed a massive crowd gathering and murmuring in front of a public notice board. The sight naturally gave him pause, and he found himself straining to catch the whispers drifting through the air.

A few fragmented words pierced his consciousness.

'Revolutionary Army... woman... public execution...'

Instinctive dread seized his chest. And then, a shocked outcry erupted from the crowd, loud enough to drown out the ambient noise of the plaza.

"They're throwing her as a sacrifice to Orc Ganaris?!"

In that instant, Abel's heart stopped. The fragments of the nightmares that had plagued him for days fell into place with sickening clarity. A chilling certainty gripped his entire being: the notice board held a horrific truth about Risa. His eyes turned wild, and without a moment's hesitation, he threw himself into the crowd.

"Excuse me! Out of the way!"

His voice was a raw mixture of desperation and panic. Gasping for breath, he shoved past shoulders and backs, violently forcing his way through the sea of people. The angry protests and grumbles of those he jostled fell on deaf ears. A primal urge to reach the notice board governed his entire body.

Finally, panting heavily, he burst through to the very front. What lay before him was a massive imperial notice. His eyes swept over the heading, freezing instantly upon a familiar name and a shocking illustration.

At the top of the parchment, bold crimson letters spelled out a terrifying title: PUBLIC EXECUTION OF THE REVOLUTIONARY REBEL. Beneath it was a crude, faded sketch of a woman. The distinct hair color, the sturdy build, the beloved face... Abel's pupils dilated in sheer horror. His heart thrashed in his chest, and a violent shockwave of adrenaline coursed through his veins, making his blood run cold.

Below the drawing, the brutal details of the execution method were laid bare.

Every single word seemed to bleed before his eyes, tearing through his mind like jagged glass.

"Ah..."

A low, hollow groan escaped his lips—not a scream, but the wretched sigh of a man who had lost everything. Despair crashed over him like a tidal wave. The fragile hope that Risa might be saved was instantly obliterated, replaced by a grotesque reality. His heart felt as though it were being physically ripped apart, and the notice before him looked like the very gates of hell.

Abel stood frozen like a statue. Alongside the paralyzing shock, a boiling, volatile rage began to consume his soul. He clenched his fists so hard that his knuckles turned stark white, grinding his teeth until they threatened to crack. From between his trembling lips, a name slipped out like a curse spat in blood.

"Baek Kang-ho..."

As the image of Risa's horrific fate overlapped with the imagined, sadistic sneer of Baek Kang-ho, Abel's eyes flared with a bloodshot, murderous frenzy. All the hatred and despair in the world seemed concentrated in those three syllables. The thought of his beloved being violated and slaughtered by that monster was an assault on his very existence. The guilt of surviving the raid in her stead mutated into an absolute, consuming thirst for vengeance.

Unable to tear his eyes from the notice, Abel let a tremor of dark resolve wash over his body.

'I will save Risa. No matter what.'

He did not care about the price he would have to pay, nor did he care about the dangers that lay ahead. Blinded by a rage that paralyzed his reason, he burned with a singular, absolute purpose: to rescue her.

He was entirely blind to the fact that this was a trap—a cruel, calculated bait laid by Baek Kang-ho to lure out and annihilate the remaining remnants of the Revolutionary Army. In his hyper-fixated mind, there was no room for tactical caution. Only Risa existed.

'Save her, or die with her.'

To Abel, those were the only two options. Deliver her from this nightmare, or perish alongside her in the abyss. Anything else was utterly meaningless.

The murmurs of the plaza no longer reached his ears. His gaze was locked onto the palace square where the execution was to take place. His stride grew firm and unyielding, his heart pumping nothing but blood, fury, and a blind, desperate love. His retreating figure, shrouded in a grim and tragic aura, foretold a man's desperate, doomed struggle against a cruel fate.

On the evening before the execution, inside the Sex Slave Quarters of Duke Baek's Mansion.

On a worn, creaking bed, Cheon Su-ryeon tossed and turned, unable to find sleep. Though the thin, coarse blanket wrapped around her body was cold, the thought of the horrific spectacle awaiting Risa tomorrow froze her very blood. Even when she squeezed her eyes shut, she could vividly picture Risa's agonizing screams as she was brutally violated by the monstrous Orc Ganaris.

'Risa...'

Hot, silent tears streamed endlessly down her cheeks. Consumed by a crushing sense of despair and helplessness, she buried her face in the blanket, clutching the fabric with all her remaining strength. Beneath the covers, her shoulders trembled violently, damp with her own tears.

In a barely audible whisper, Su-ryeon prayed to the empty dark.

'Please... let tomorrow never come.'

At that very moment, in The Secret Room of the mansion, a suffocating, feverish heat hung thick in the air.

Striped of all clothing and decorum, Baek Kang-ho and Baek Jang-mi had reached the absolute peak of depraved ecstasy. The body of the extreme masochist, Baek Jang-mi, was already painted with the marks of Baek Kang-ho's sadistic whims. Vivid crimson welts crisscrossed her voluptuous buttocks, smooth thighs, and calves, looking like a grotesque piece of art. Each mark was a testament to the pain she had endured and the perverse pleasure she had reaped from it.

Pinned beneath Baek Kang-ho's heavy frame, Jang-mi panted heavily, her face flushed with pure, unadulterated rapture.

Baek Kang-ho gripped her slender waist with a bruising force. His muscular, imposing physique glistened with sweat, radiating a primal heat. With brutal, relentless force, he drove his massive, demonically enhanced member deep into her channel, beginning a savage, rhythmic pounding.

"Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!"

The wet, heavy sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the humid chamber. Jang-mi arched her back like a bow, her body twitching in sync with his violent thrusts as she was pushed over the edge of sanity.

"Ah, ah! Your Grace, it's too good... deeper... ah!"

Her voice dissolved into breathless, weeping cries of pleasure, her wanton sounds only fueling Baek Kang-ho's sadistic lust. He accelerated his pace, driving into her with animalistic fury.

Finally, they reached the zenith of their depraved union. Gathering his strength, Baek Kang-ho thrust deep to his hilt and let loose a thick, boiling torrent of seed directly into her womb.

"Ugh..."

With a low, guttural growl from Baek Kang-ho, Baek Jang-mi's entire body seized in a violent, prolonged spasm of climax.

As the storm subsided, the two lay side by side on the disheveled bed. Jang-mi curled into his chest, her breath coming in ragged gasps. From her abused entrance, his thick fluids slowly leaked out, tracing sticky paths down her welt-covered thighs and staining the cold bedsheets. Though their limbs were heavy and spent, a smug, satisfied ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠smirk played on Baek Kang-ho's lips, while Jang-mi's face remained flushed with a lingering, debauched afterglow.

"Your rough touch is truly exquisite, Your Grace."Jang-mi purred, her voice dripping with deep satisfaction and the lazy residue of pleasure.

Baek Kang-ho leaned down, whispering darkly against her ear. "You possess a magnificent vessel, my lady."

At his vulgar praise, Jang-mi giggled coyly, burying her face deeper into his chest and feigning modesty. "Your Grace, you're making me blush... really." She tapped his broad, sweat-slicked shoulder with a playful, delicate fist.

After a moment, her voice shifted, laced with a chilling eagerness. "I am so looking forward to the execution tomorrow. I've never actually seen Orc Ganaris before." Her eyes sparkled with a mixture of childlike curiosity and a depraved thirst for violence.

Baek Kang-ho's eyes flashed with a sinister, demonic light. He cupped her chin, forcing her to look directly into his dark gaze.

"You have every right to be excited, my lady. Whatever you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠are imagining, the reality will be infinitely more horrific."

His voice was laced with a chilling, bloodthirsty amusement. At his words, Baek Jang-mi's eyes dilated with an unsettling madness and a sadistic thrill. A wide, ecstatic smile spread across her face—a smile that suggested she was already vividly picturing the brutal, agonizing destruction of Risa's dignity and life.