CHAPTER 1. Monty knows about parties

Fictional city of Ambeth 

Director Tybbmon’s Office 

—Don’t take offense, you’ve done a good job. The company’s needs make it impossible to continue your contract. You will be compensated in the coming days. Do you have any questions? 

There was no way, for Miren, that this could be true. That bastard was firing her because he had gotten everything he could out of her. Not exactly in the workplace sense. She felt rage. But, as always, she was unable to express it. Suddenly he no longer seemed so intoxicating, nor so attractive. That wonderful superficial layer melted before her to reveal the unscrupulous being that had been there from the beginning. 

—Are you telling me the company is doing badly…? —she asked, rereading the lines of her dismissal on the paper. She shook her head timidly—. I don’t understand. It’s not possible. 

—We’re not doing as well as it looks from the outside. We’re going through a rough patch, Miren. I hope you can understand. 

Now you’re addressing me informally… 

The girl crumpled the paper in her hand as she stood up. There was nothing to be done, and she wouldn’t beg to stay. From Rolen’s point of view, she was just another worker. When he saw her stand, he followed suit and friendly extended his hand. 

—All right. I’ll leave —she said, shaking his hand. She could no longer look him in the eyes. They seemed like poison to her, so blue, so sickly. That hair full of blonde curls, so striking when she met him… for the first time it disgusted her. She wanted to spit on him. Then he returned a macabre smile. 

—Good luck. You’ve been… very good at what you do. 

That almost frightened her. It made her feel little less than pathetic. She couldn’t even withstand his gaze. She turned quickly and left the office so as not to prolong the situation. 

Rolen remained standing, watching her leave from his austere office. His eyes, colder after the fake concern, drifted toward his two secretaries typing in the adjoining room. Judith, the one with black hair, flinched at the slam of the door. 

—Was the door slam necessary? It distracted me. 

Rolen left his private office to join them. Those two women were the ones who ran, under his guidance and main command, the company Beyond Better Global, a distributor of enhanced materials derived from global mineral technology. It wasn’t a large company, but in recent years it had seen a spike in profits and customer growth. BBG focused on local and international clients and had the warehouse integrated into the headquarters itself. The team carefully studied the characteristics of each supplier and client before accepting orders, so in the last two years they had become known for their quality. 

—Another international order came in —commented Lyanka, his second right hand and sales lead. Her hair was completely white, dyed to conceal her grays. But her skin, features, and general appearance were the result of years of intensive self-care. 

—Submit it to your filters, as always —Rolen replied. BBG was a company reluctant to fulfill orders from abroad, for reasons unclear even to its own employees. But given its recent success, Rolen finally listened to her advisors and began the first deals. She needed the two women’s vetting process because orders had tripled and warehouse production needed to be expanded to meet demand. So, both Judith and Lyanka knew perfectly well that Miren’s dismissal wasn’t due to company needs, but rather to get rid of an inconvenient burden. It was what their boss did time and again: hire and abuse his most easily manipulated employees, then fire them or subject them to personal humiliation until they resigned. Neither of them was bothered by this reality, a reality they had been living with for four years.

Hours later

Night club

—Look at that. Two kittens at three o’clock. 

Rolen looked to the right side of the bar. Two young girls were clearly whispering about them. Both blushed when the boys returned their attention and smiled back. 

—Which one do you like more? —John insisted, finishing his glass of rum in one gulp. Rolen glanced at them briefly again and called the bartender to place an order. Then he spoke in a neutral tone. 

—The brunette. The blonde’s for you. 

—Is everything ready? 

—They’re very young. I don’t think they’ll want to go alone. 

—That’s what I’m for, to convince them. 

Rolen swirled the ice in his drink and shrugged. There were chances of success alone, but there were two of them, and two girls. He knew his friend John Berof was the right one for the first approach because he faked better. For him, pretending interest was harder. And he didn’t feel particularly horny. 

I guess I didn’t feel like using their prostitutes today. Did I fire Miren too quickly? 

He remembered her distraught face when he told her she was fired, when she had been expecting a promotion. That gave him some happiness. He liked seeing her suffer and then, with trembling hands, reading line by line that the company was dispensing with her services. 

—Ladies… my friend and I couldn’t help but notice the two most beautiful women in the whole damn city. 

One of the girls had drunk more and laughed loudly. John liked that; he liked dumb blondes. In his view, drunk women sucked better. She covered her mouth instantly, feeling silly. The other, smiling but more distrustful, just looked John in the eyes. 

—My friend’s a bit drunk… actually, we were thinking about going home already. 

—What? So soon… —John looked at his watch and raised his eyebrows—, but it’s midnight! 

—Yeah, silly, why so soon? I was thinking of ordering another… —the blonde called the bartender, but at that moment the man was filling a glass for the stranger’s friend—, hey, and he’s your friend? 

—Yes. We sometimes come here for beers, but today he’s a bit moody… 

—Don’t tell lies about me, I can hear you —said the blond, curving a small smile. He thanked and paid the bartender. John laughed. 

—And the bastard has sharp hearing… 

The brunette looked more closely at the blond with curly hair. He looked like a suited angel, despite his prominent jaw. She saw him looking at the ceiling and walls as if searching for something, or remembering something. 

—What are your names? —she asked. 

—No, no… none of that. What are your names? —John took the liberty of touching both on the shoulder, as if hugging them—. What do you think about continuing this chat somewhere quieter? The music here sucks… 

—What quieter place? —she asked, subtly removing the male hand from her shoulder. 

This one’s going to make it harder, John thought. But he didn’t change his friendly expression. 

—There’s a tea house right next door, with hookah and calmer music. You can talk. Though you have to go in barefoot. The carpets can’t be stepped on with shoes. 

—I know that place! Babe, we saw it the other day —the blonde exclaimed, shaking her friend— Monique, we said we wanted to try the tea there. It looked expensive. Why don’t we go? These two will invite us, right? 

—Don’t doubt it —he agreed, delighted. 

—That place open so late…? At this hour? —the brunette kept asking. 

—Depends on the day —a deeper voice said right beside her. It made her jump—. Today it stays open two more hours. 

The boy with blonde curls and glassy eyes was suddenly at her side. She then realized how tall and robust he was. He had broad shoulders and neck, and a noticeable but handsome jaw. And the sweetest, calmest expression she could imagine in a man. 

Though now that I see him up close, he has a scar. You can barely see it… 

A subtle thin scar adorned his cheek. Barely perceptible until one looked closely. 

John nodded at his friend’s words. He took out his phone and pretended to answer messages, but in reality was activating the second part of the plan. 

—Well… I can’t think of why not then. It’s right here —she agreed, reconsidering. The boy’s beauty, now confirmed, made her rethink. 

A while later

Tea House

—This is delicious… wow! Though I think it’s hitting me weird on top of everything I drank… —murmured the blonde, stroking her stomach. 

The conversation was pleasant and the boys were charming. Both young, attractive, and what attracted Sabrina most: they clearly had money. Monique, less impressed by that, focused on attitude. John had something that signaled danger; her feminine instinct reacted every time their gazes crossed. But she chose to ignore it, because she knew that when dawn came and Sabrina was no longer drunk, she would see him the same way. 

—Yeah, but it’s a bit dull, isn’t it? —Monique commented. 

—It’s the music —the blond claimed, settling his broad back against the wall cushions. 

—Ah, yes… it’s very slow. MONTY!! 

The same dark-skinned, unfriendly-looking fat man who had greeted them approached the table. 

—Do the gentlemen need anything else? 

—The girls are complaining that the music is a drag! And it is… let’s liven up the party. 

Party. 

Party. 

It was the agreed word of the week. The man nodded without facial expression and pulled a small remote from his apron pocket. Monique thought he would point it at the stereo in the corner, but instead he pressed a button toward another device on the wall. Then the window blinds folded down. The streetlight glow stopped seeping inside. Monique felt her alarms go off. The music didn’t change. The door began to creak when suddenly a rigid metallic-looking curtain descended from the top frame, sealing every gap connecting the room with the outside. 

—Hey, hey… what is this!? 

Monique couldn’t stay seated for even two seconds. Those devices were working on every wall, depriving them of natural light. The warm, soft light that had illuminated the tables until that moment also began to fade, and then she gave her friend a startled kick.

—Get up!! This isn’t normal!

John laughed, relaxed and with his ankles crossed, not budging an inch. Sabrina grabbed his shoulder to help herself up, a little unsteady. Her reflexes were slowed.

—Come on, if you’re joking, let us out. It’s not funny anymore. —Monique threw herself against the door, or what she thought was the door. The canvas she saw harden right there was solid and cold. Metal.

What metal hardens like that out of thin air? Unless… it’s synthetic… or expensive technology.

In Ambeth, there were few users who possessed the power to synthesize minerals. However, the blinds, which folded and joined together as if suddenly transforming into a rigid canvas, indicated more advanced technology. A neighborhood tea shop couldn’t afford something like that. They weren’t in a safe place. Monique knew it. When she tried to pull the canvas back, it felt as fixed as a rock to the ground. And the light grew even dimmer. She turned, already breathing heavily, and looked at the blond boy, introduced as Rolen. He was smiling at her with a certain sly arrogance.

—What… w-what are you looking at, asshole?!

The room went completely black, and those blue eyes disappeared. Monique then heard noises and her friend’s shouts.

—These bastards think they can… wait… —Sabrina fumbled for her bag. At least she had her phone there and could light up the room. But she was surprised when she walked to where John was supposed to be: John had vanished. His laughter had disappeared too.

Monique cried out in despair, running her hands along the walls, but only managing to trip over something repeatedly. She stubbed her shin as she walked near the low table.

—Damn it!!

—Someone speak up, I’m getting nervous! Moni, I can’t find my bag! Where are you?

—Keep talking. Keep talking!

—I stayed here, on the right… can I…?

A sharp, low sound cut off her sentence. Monique stopped walking in that direction and swallowed.

—Sa… Sabrina?

Nothing. Not a sound. She felt a sharp chill. She couldn’t see a thing. But they seemed to know exactly where they were… Sabrina didn’t answer anymore. She tried to calm her breathing and retraced her steps, expecting a blow in return. Now she couldn’t look for her phone. She couldn’t make a sound either. Her body was overwhelmed by a terrifying fear, one she’d never known before. She heard and felt nothing but the cold carpet, and she panicked at the thought of taking a wrong step and bumping into one of them. Her breathing became less and less audible, until only she could feel the trembling.

At some point I’ll have to move…

—I had to tell her to be quiet —came a sudden voice from somewhere in the room, making her jump—, because her voice was too irritating. And I really liked her stupid laugh.

—You killed her too soon, didn’t you? —The phrase made her go numb. She brought both hands to her mouth to stifle a scream, feeling her eyes welling with tears. Her heart felt like it was going to leap out of her chest from sheer fear, and at that point, she was afraid she might wet herself. To make matters worse, they fell silent again. Not a word. If they had killed her, Sabrina’s body must be in the same place where she had last heard her, so she didn’t dare approach. She walked backward, gently feeling the objects around her. She recognized some hard furniture with her fingertips, but nothing that could be of any help. She could only think about smashing their heads and trying to find another way out of that burrow.

Silence.

Silence.

Silence… and a darkness that wouldn’t lift. There wasn’t a single light source, not even the tiniest, to give her any idea of ​​where she was actually standing. This could be outer space itself. Only recognizable by its emptiness. The tension grew so much that when a metallic clinking sounded near her, she burst into tears. She was startled by such a tiny sound that John’s laughter echoed again.

—You liked this one, didn’t you? That Moni girl. Keep her.

—… —Monique stopped herself from crying again, covering her mouth once more.

—Come here, Monique. I’m not going to hurt you —came the voice she had been waiting for, ominously.

—N-no… don’t come any closer… please, just let me go… and I won’t do anything…

—Nothing? What do you mean, nothing? You’d go to the police, Monique. Tell them a bunch of things that didn’t happen. Did you… see anything?

—I… didn’t see anything… nothing… —she trembled as she spoke. John’s shrill little laugh, which now seemed sickening to her, resurfaced, but it was Rolen who continued talking. —Calm down. You’re around here, right? —Suddenly his voice sounded much closer, and the girl sobbed, taking steps back. Rolen smiled in the darkness and reached her. Then Monique thrashed desperately in his arms, struggling to break free. The man wrapped his arms around her tightly, holding her hands. —Stop moving. Stop moving like that or you’ll hurt yourself, Monique. —Monique wouldn’t. She kept thrashing about, desperate.

—Let me go…agh…!!

The warning had come true. The enormous arms of that undesirable man tightened so much that her brain signaled her to obey. Her ribs ached, making it hard to breathe. She stopped resisting. Just two seconds later, he loosened his grip. And his warm voice sounded against her neck.

—See? I’m good if you obey me. And I won’t hurt you if you behave as I want. —He kissed her neck, damp with tears and the sweat of terror.

Monique didn’t respond, only made involuntary sounds. But she couldn’t hold back her sobs either.

—I want you to walk with me. —His hands gripped her shoulders; Monique obeyed without a word, but she walked clumsily. She didn’t understand how they could even know where they were stepping.

John and Rolen knew where they were going because they were now wearing special glasses. The only thing linked to chance in that whole encounter was the prey. The place and its technology, along with the intervention of characters like the tea room waiter, were nothing more than components of the network they’d been subscribed to for years. Monique’s hands trembled, and Rolen liked that, having spent the last few minutes walking with a growing erection in his trousers.

Underground room

Monique knew with horror that she was entering the lion’s den when she started down the steps. They seemed endless, and she knew she was descending in a spiral. She detected spiral staircases, a tunnel to the abyss. An overwhelming urge to vomit gripped her, resigning herself to the fact that she would never see the sunlight again. She began to envy her recently deceased friend. During her descent, she stopped twice, moaning. John suggested slapping her, but Rolen, calm and with a sly voice, ignored him and spoke to her in whispers. He never let go of her shoulders.

—Relax. I told you I wouldn’t hurt you. Keep going down, Monique.

She was so far from any safety that she had no choice but to trust him. Even given the circumstances. After walking a little further down some kind of corridor, the acoustics of them whispering in another language set off even more alarm bells.

They’re speaking… the language of Yepal.

Yepal was the country where the government struggled daily to counteract the catastrophes caused by powerful families. Monique’s mind began to talk to itself, tormenting her, recalling what she had once read, what she had once heard on television. Illegal trafficking network. Human slavery. Macabrely creative murders for the enjoyment of heartless clients.

Of course. I’m walking toward my own guillotine.

Three gigantic spotlights suddenly switched on, making her tremble and close her eyes tightly. She went blind for several seconds; her pupils stung. Then she heard more voices and calm laughter not far away, and the sound of a voice masked by some modulator that made the speaker sound ridiculous.

—How long did it take me?! Uh, it didn’t take me long at all!!

—But you lost the bet, you said it would be less than an hour and a half.

—That is, if it were with your method, which is paying the dancers and the prostitutes!! —another new chorus with echoing laughter. The feeling that there was an audience threw her off completely. An extra layer of bewilderment that didn’t make her feel any better… but it did pique her curiosity. Who were they? Where was she? Why hadn’t they raped or murdered her yet? Was that the final course for those voyeurs? Other secondary questions crowded her mind. But as her eyes adjusted to the painful light, she understood that she would have preferred to be any cockroach than go any further.

—It’s MO-NI-QUE!! Let’s give her a round of applause! She’s the 32nd guest in this mousetrap! Number thirty-one was dreadful, yes, but it’s fallen to her chatty friend to be one, so… what do you say, Monique? Number thirty-two is rounder. More compact. Isn’t it?!

The girl gasped in fear at the sight of all those masked figures. Everyone, including John and Rolen, wore the same red mask. She knew it was him because he had the same pattern on his tie. A microphone with a squeaky voice had initially prevented her from recognizing the interviewer either. But from his suit, she knew it was John concealing his identity. She was at a show with concrete bleachers in front of her. In a large basement. When she turned around on her socks, she realized Rolen’s large hands were no longer on her. She frantically whirled toward the spiral staircase, but then the robust body of the blond masked man grabbed her.

—Looks like Monique still hasn’t gotten used to the idea of ​​being famous. Does anyone in the audience want to explain to her what’s next? —Laughter and comments filled the background. The man in the suit who had been holding her dropped her abruptly to the floor, this time without any sympathy.

—Please…!! Please —the girl begged, kneeling in pain. She addressed him —I obeyed… —The laughter then grew louder. She didn’t look at them. And the red mask was expressionless. The slits barely allowed passage for her eyes. But she could discern, after looking a little closer, that those blue eyes were still there.

—You!! —the other one pointed at someone in the small audience—, come with me. You will spin the roulette today. —Monique followed the new participant with a terrified gaze; he was part of that kind of sect. There was a roulette wheel made up of triangular squares with numbers, which seemed to be ready at one end of the basement. The participant’s body mass indicated that he was bordering on morbid obesity. As he spun it, the roulette wheel began to emit the eerie sound of flaps colliding with the selector rod. Several cheers then erupted, and Monique’s heart began to race. Because she suspected that this was going to be the end for her. —BAUUUUUM!! WHAT DID IT TOUCH?! —John shrieked from behind his mask, his voice distorted. When the wand pointed to the number three, he peeled off the sticker. The crowd reacted with loud comments.

“Migraines.” That’s what the triangle said.

The girl was trembling and turned her gaze back to Rolen. She touched one of her legs, trying to ignore the agitated crowd behind her.

—Please, I promise I won’t say anything… let me out of here. —Rolen slowly crouched down beside her, staring intently through the eyeholes of his mask. He stroked her face, enjoying the feeling of her fresh tears of fear. He moved her to sit on the floor and sat down right behind her, spreading her legs. Monique breathed in short, ragged gasps, terrified. She didn’t understand what he was doing. Rolen was strange. The only reason he was there was to restrain her more easily. She would be the victim. But not in the way she thought. Rolen watched the spectacle intently. He knew Monique would scream as soon as she saw her friend again, and he had to keep her under control so she wouldn’t ruin the show. When John appeared on stage with the waiter -also masked- dragging Sabrina, Monique froze. Sabrina was alive, awake. Conscious. But she seemed to have been drugged. She saw her blinking, so she screamed at her. She tried to stand up, and that’s when she felt Rolen pull her back onto his lap, forcibly sitting her down. He pressed her body down again with the same force as before, until the girl lost her breath, overwhelmed.

—What are you going to do to her?! What?! —John exposed the drugged blonde woman, who was still resisting, very drowsy. John simulated a dance with her, provoking louder laughter when the girl’s neck jerked violently to his movements. Finally, he dropped her to the floor with a thud. Sabrina was moving. Then the real terror began. Two more masked men appeared and stood beside the blonde, waiting for orders.

—NOW!! —At the command, the two men took a running start and began kicking her. They wore reinforced shoes, warehouse boots that Monique recognized. She worked in them.

—If you move… you’ll pay dearly —Rolen whispered in her ear, stroking her hair. Monique barely dared to move. The thought of disobeying him wasn’t even on her mind. But she was far more than terrified and saddened to see what they were doing to her friend. One of them intensified his downward kicks, repeatedly striking her head. Harder and harder, until Sabrina began to sob. Even drunk and high, she could feel the pain of those blows. John dropped the microphone and walked around the area where the beating was taking place. He muttered something in a lower tone to his thugs, who stopped. When they stopped beating her, her crying became clearer. But the audience was complaining. They thought it was a tame show. Lacking in appeal.

—It’s not a demanding audience —Rolen commented calmly in her ear—, they’re simply ignorant. The pain of broken bones is exceptional. John must have realized we’re dealing with amateurs. I hope he at least gets a good chunk of change.

Monique covered her face with her hands, listening to her friend cry. She couldn’t bear it; she was going to collapse. Rolen took her hands away, enveloping them in his own. He smiled as he felt them tremble. Sabrina screamed when she felt John undress her from behind. The young man gestured with his hands, and two beams of mineral shot out from them. The audience finally erupted in applause, having been caught off guard by the use of power. People with powers usually belonged to -or were related in some way to- elite families, depending on the strength of the mineral. So either it was a visual trick, or the young man had just used his own powers. In any case, it was a prelude to scaring her. The girl whimpered, but the minerals had only been gently sprayed onto her bare back, to torment her. John then straightened up and moved his hands with greater effort. With a more conspicuous gesture, he synthesized a spear that lengthened in his raised hand, and with all the strength he could muster, he brought it down, piercing her back. Sabrina began to scream in despair. Her legs thrashed. John synthesized another spear to the applause and cheers of the crowd and plunged it into her other shoulder blade. Then the girl’s screams became frantic. Monique felt another sudden urge to vomit as she witnessed it. Then the two executioners each took their spears and yanked them out, in a maelstrom of cries of pain. Monique could barely blink. The glistening blood on those white spears… was Sabrina’s. They had just broken her bones with blows to then do this to her. The men took a step back and simultaneously drew momentum to violently bring down their spears. They stabbed her again, pinning her to the ground with their boots, dislodging the points to repeat the action. Over and over, gaining speed. Rhythm. They were warmed up now, so their movements were firmer and more precise. Blood spurted each time they dislodged a point. At a certain point, Monique’s stomach couldn’t take it anymore, and she began to vomit, slumped to the ground. Rolen watched her throw up the tea and soda she had drunk hours earlier. He moved his leg out of the way so the fluids wouldn’t land on his trousers, though in truth, he didn’t really care anymore. His eyes were more focused on the scene of mangled flesh unfolding on Sabrina’s back. It didn’t seem to be enough to kill her yet, because she was still alive and still boasting. But now she did so more weakly. Monique paused, but her diaphragm still contracted at the sight of the horrific scene. John then synthesized a hammer. He made a gesture with it in his right hand and bent down to begin striking her head with sharp, forceful blows. Sabrina made a feigned resistance. He then grabbed her hair, exposing her face, and began to crush every curve of her features with hammer blows.

BAM, BAM, BAM.

—MY GOD, STOP…! —Monique begged. —PLEASE, PLEASE… PLEASE… PLEASE…!

John didn’t stop. In his madness and sadism, this was pure ecstasy. Now people were applauding him. They whistled, recorded, and shouted excitedly. Sabrina snorted through her own blood a couple of times, but she was finished off on the fifth blow, closer to her forehead. It wasn’t enough to stop her executioner. Splattered with her blood, he continued harder, turning her face into a deformity. He broke her teeth with a final blow to the mouth, which also dislocated her jaw.

Monique trembled and felt like she was losing her breath. Her breathing was so ragged that she felt she was going to have an anxiety attack. The image of a disfigured face she knew, which a little while ago had been her friend’s, was seared into her memory. Above all else, it was the speed with which all those tortures unfolded that stuck in her mind. People there kept going and moving on to the next as if nothing was amiss. The performance was swift, the abuse calculated and precise, and once it was done, like a cooking recipe, they moved on to the next step.

Once she was dead, the boy threw down the bloody hammer and unzipped his fly. Then he did what Monique had feared ever since she saw the tea shop’s blinds close. But now, with that whole Dantean and bloody scene beneath her feet, seeing him spread the legs of her disfigured friend’s corpse was the final straw that made her fall apart again. Rolen watched her vomit, more impassive. It was a human and logical reaction. He had witnessed so much pain and so many scenes of that kind before that his threshold for disgust and horror had been blurred for years. He was a consumer of that content. He was also a manufacturer of the security system where that content was created. John’s moans of arousal did disgust him more. She’d seen him ejaculate on other girls before, but she didn’t particularly enjoy watching him jerk off. John loved fucking recently deceased people, no matter how mangled they were. The only requirement for his satisfaction was that they had just died, that their bodies were still warm, but that the body swayed like a sack. Inert. Monique watched his masked face rise and his neck sweat as he continued thrusting into the body. He screamed like a madman and laughed when he came.

—Fucking hell, yessss!! And this bitch didn’t shit herself when she died! So clean!! The last one… yes… the last one shat herself completely. It took hours to get rid of the smell of shit. Hey, not that I’m complaining. —He stroked his erect member after ejaculating and put it back in his pants. After that, he only reacted to the applause and cheers with a jovial bow.

After that, hard rock music played relentlessly. The workers brought a bucket to mop up the mess of flesh, blood, and teeth scattered across the stage.

And time passed.

After a while longer, the masked men left the area, guided by John, amidst comments about everything they had seen. As they ascended the spiral staircase, the executioners lingered a little longer and helped each other collect the girl’s corpse, the portable roulette wheel, and the cleaning supplies. They also spent some time removing the bloodstains spattered from the furniture. All the while, Monique and Rolen remained seated on the floor. Monique hadn’t been able to utter a single syllable after witnessing it. She was even afraid to breathe too loudly. She still felt a kind of ridiculous protection from the captor she’d been assigned, who hadn’t been part of the spectacle. Finally, the executioners finished cleaning up Monique’s vomit and left without a word.

They were left alone in silence. Monique glanced sideways, motionless. But she was trembling. She was trembling so much that her body ached from the involuntary contractions. She couldn’t stop shivering as if she were frozen. Rolen moved back slightly and removed his red mask. He stared at her. Hours earlier, the girl had worn subtle smoky makeup, but her tears had run down her cheeks. Objectively, she had a pretty face. She had slightly golden skin, brown eyes, and straight brown hair. She wasn’t very tall, but she was slender. He liked the shape of her lips. Rolen brought his hand to her cheek, wiping away a furtive tear.

—I told you, didn’t I? No one has even noticed you.

Trembling, the girl nodded.

Another silence fell, long and bitter. Until finally she managed to murmur.

—I-I won’t… say… I-I won’t… say…

—I know you won’t say anything —he murmured, closing the distance between them. Monique was startled when she felt him kiss her. Part of her diminished confidence crumbled again, but it didn’t occur to her to resist. She didn’t move a muscle unless she understood that this was what he wanted. Rolen unbuttoned the long skirt she was wearing and, in one swift motion, revealed her legs. He liked it. A black lace thong and slender, trembling legs. He quickly pulled down the thong and spread her thighs with his hands, studying the appearance of her vulva. Monique lay there looking at him, trembling and nervous. Her mouth moved incessantly from the cold. Rolen bit his lower lip. She wasn’t completely shaved; she had some hair. He didn’t dislike it at all. It turned him on even more. He unbuckled his belt and immediately pulled down his trousers and underwear, positioning himself better between her legs. He removed his blouse and tie, but only left her naked from the waist down. Monique struggled to convince herself not to close her legs, fearing it would upset him or worsen her fate. She couldn’t fool him for long, though: Rolen was well-endowed, and when he tried to thrust into her, the force made her scream and clench her legs around his waist, writhing in pain. This man had a large, muscular body. His arms and back were enormous; he was heavy, and when he thrust deeper inside her, she felt almost as if he were stabbing her.

—Agh…!

Rolen squeezed her buttocks tightly until he was fully inside her. The girl kicked and moaned in pain, but when their bodies were joined, he only felt her tremble and breathe heavily beneath his chest, exhausted and tense, and that was something he loved. He thrust into her hard, pinning her to the ground. Monique cried and moaned every time she had to resist him, but that only encouraged him more. He raised his back slightly and held her neck, slamming violently against her with every thrust. The girl could do nothing to stop him; he was too strong, too big. She held his sturdy forearm with her small hands, sobbing between gasps every time she felt his enormous cock penetrate her. She wished the monster would finish quickly and outside her body. She was lucky, and so it was. Despite appearances, Rolen had been holding back his excitement for far too long, and his body quickly increased the speed of his thrusts, revealing his growing arousal. He let out a hoarse groan and stopped abruptly, masturbating over her until he finished on her stomach. Monique closed her eyes, sighing. Her groin ached intensely, but even in a stressful moment like this with a sadistic stranger, she had to be grateful to be alive and practically unharmed. When the blond man finished ejaculating inside her, he sighed too and looked down at her.

—It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Monique.

Monique couldn’t answer him. She realized she couldn’t bear his gaze. She saw him smile, but she didn’t want to focus on that smile, because she would already have enough nightmares about it. Finally, the boy got up and dressed. Monique did the same immediately. Her body was still sending her warning signals now that her captor had had his fill. She was still in an underground place, designed to create a vacuum for those inside. She had to get outside.

When they finished dressing, in complete silence, they climbed all the steps, this time illuminated. Once at the top, Rolen pulled a lever hidden behind a stone and unlocked the soundproof door. He let the girl go out first.

Tea House

Monique came out trembling, expecting to find those sinister beings. But the only person she found was the waiter who had served them from the beginning, bored with his cell phone. He was watching carpentry videos. John came out of the restroom, zipping up his fly, and his face lit up when he saw them.

—Monique! It’s so good to see you. You seem worried. What’s wrong with you?

WHERE DID THIS DAMN CRAZY MAN COME FROM? Monique didn’t know what to say, or how to say it. She feared retaliation, especially from him… she was standing face to face with her friend’s killer. She would never forget his face. The guy was young, even younger than Rolen.

—Take her to the bar where we met her —Rolen muttered, taking a seat in another corner. He also seemed to be engrossed in his phone. John silently scanned it. Then Rolen raised his voice. —And do it now. You and I have other things to discuss.

—Yes. Come on, Monique! Hey, Monty. Say goodbye. Be polite.

The fat waiter, unfazed by it all as if it had nothing to do with him, said goodbye in a curt voice.

—See you later, Monique. Come back soon.

Monique said goodbye in a whisper, and John dragged her outside.

A while later

Traveling with him in the same car was even more terrifying. They were accompanied by another man who was driving.

For some reason… I haven’t died. Monique repeated this to herself with dread and a sense of unease. She didn’t quite understand what state she was in, but her survival instinct made her keep up appearances as if this were normal, a situation just as commonplace as it seemed to John himself. She understood that, given the nature of it all and considering their powers, John and Rolen were people with money or some kind of influence.

—Take your bag and your shoes —the boy said when the car stopped behind the bar. Monique put on her shoes and took her bag, her hands trembling. —I turned off your phone. But we didn’t take anything.

—Th-thanks. —The girl nodded simply and hurried to open the car door. Now outside, on solid ground, her feelings were different. It seemed she was going to get out of this trauma alive and in one piece. Now she had to think about what to do. She could still go to a police station and request that they collect evidence from her body. She had wiped Rolen’s cum off with her own skirt. The girl began to walk slowly and somewhat unsteadily toward the bar.

—Oh, and Monique.

She slammed on the brakes, frozen.

—Y-yes…?

—Sometimes, when there are two of them, one suffers physically. The other suffers psychologically. It’s up to you not to suffer forever. —He smiled, with the same perfect teeth and feigned friendliness that Sabrina had noticed earlier. —Don’t do anything stupid.

—I won’t.

—Don’t, seriously. You’re going to have a really bad time. We know when someone talks at the police station. —Monique felt overwhelmed and pouted, clutching her purse. But she shook her head. John chuckled and signaled for his driver to continue.

And slowly, the car turned a corner. Disappearing. Monique burst into tears.