The Monster's Room - Chapter 47
He was often beaten until his skin split open and, during wars, he was pushed to the front lines. If he survived, he was forced to have s-x with prisoners.
“If that girl doesn’t cry out, I’ll cut her head off.”
The invaders drank as they watched his awkward attempts at s-x.
The mix of shame, fear, and rising pleasure provided them with entertainment. As sweat trickled down his back and he let out a hot breath during his first climax, one of the invaders grabbed the hair of the prisoner, who was gasping for breath.
“Didn’t make her cry?”
“Aaaah!”
One of the invaders grabbed the prisoner’s hair.
Sssshk.
He then slit the prisoner’s throat with a knife. The boy, still connected to the dying prisoner, was drenched in her blood.
“How does it feel to f-ck a corpse?”
“…”
“Ah, this is.”
The invaders laughed as they looked at his face.
“Quite entertaining.”
This horrifying cycle repeated countless times. He was pushed to the front lines during battles, and if he survived, he was forced to have s-x with prisoners. No matter the outcome, the prisoner was always killed.
Eventually, prisoners would burst into tears at the mere sight of him, knowing their fate.
There was nothing he could do.
“I’ll make it less scary for you.”
No, there was one thing he could do.
“I’ll make sure you feel good at the end.”
If they were going to die anyway, he wanted them to forget death and lose themselves in pleasure at the very end. His efforts seemed to pay off.
Over time, prisoners who had been with him died with smiles on their faces, and strange rumors began to spread.
They said there was an angel of death in the camp whose touch was so pleasurable that it led to death.
Though it was a vulgar kind of fame, there was an upside.
The invaders, displeased with the reputation that seemed to praise him, stopped bringing prisoners to him. Instead, they pushed him into battles even more frequently, sending him to the front lines to die.
He survived every time.
He used the swordsmanship taught by his father and the wisdom inherited from his mother.
As time passed and he became seasoned on the battlefield, people began to call him a knight, and the invaders aged. With his military achievements, he gained some power and was able to protect his mother and sister.
“I’m sorry…”
Although his worn-out mother and sister passed away within a year, he was not left entirely alone.
“Take care of ◎◇.”
His sister left behind an infant, whose father was unknown. By then, much had been worn away in him, and he protected the child out of sheer habit.
The invaders’ insults and violence no longer affected him. His heart had hardened, and his body had become as tough as steel, making him almost indistinguishable from an object.
“Uncle.”
Or so it should have been.
“This is a gift.”
When the child offered him wildflowers, tears he thought had long dried up fell. His heart, which should have remained dead, revived and lifted him up.
He took up his sword with a renewed sense of purpose. Straightening his back as he had in his glorious youth, he moved forward. His fame on the battlefield spread, and followers gathered around him in droves.
Finally, just as the title of knight was about to be officially bestowed upon him,
“◎◇…?”
The invaders who had waited patiently for him to rise high plucked his hopes like a ripe fruit.
“◎◇…?”
When he returned victorious from the battlefield, what awaited him was a gigantic stake.
Tied to it was a body far too young.
A body without a head.
“Capture the traitor!”
The war hero was suddenly labeled a traitor and attacked. His horse’s head was severed, causing him to fall. Soldiers overpowered him. It all felt like a lie. He couldn’t see the heads of his loved one.
“Well, well.”
But his true nightmare was not that.
The sound of the invader’s, now hideously aged, tongue clicking.
“I thought it would be fun.”
His pain, his despair,
“It wasn’t as exciting as I expected.”
“You too?”
“I’ve played with it for too long. I’m bored. It’s time to find a new toy.”
Their attitude, viewing everything merely as entertainment.
“It was a good move to give him hope by giving him a child.”
“Thanks to that, we used him for a long time.”
Realizing that this was all part of their plan dragged him into hell.
“Now, kill him.”
“Wait a moment.”
Having been thoroughly played with, he couldn’t even die peacefully.
“Cut off that bastard’s c-ck.”
“Oh?”
“He was once called the Angel of Death. Who knows, maybe keeping it will increase our virility.”
“That’s a great idea!”
On the spot, his pe–s was cut off while he was still alive, and a sword that went through his helmet penetrated from his mouth to his head, killing him. His corpse was displayed in the town square for people to gawk at.
Instead of talking about his good deeds during his life, people gossiped more about his humiliating experiences as a plaything.
He was a dead man anyway.
What harm could come from speaking ill of someone who couldn’t come back to life? So, as people slandered him day after day, on the night of a full moon, something unimaginable happened.
“The Knight of Death has returned!”
The corpse rose, mounted the headless horse, and rode again.
