Chapter33-I don't remember

After a few minutes of being unconscious, I woke up feeling dizzy and realized I was tied to a chair.

What?

I'm tied up... Those bastards must have done this...

'Urggh, shit.'

When I got hit on the head, I should have expected this...

Now that I think about it, if only I had used my appraisal skill on them earlier, things might have turned out differently.

But I still don't understand why the-arggh, My head?

The pain in my head was relentless, a pounding ache that made it hard to think straight. 

Fuck, the pain is still there...

Every heartbeat sent a fresh wave of agony through my skull, as if my brain were being squeezed in a vise. 

The blow I had received had left a tender, throbbing spot on the back of my head, and I could feel a warm trickle of blood slowly running down my neck. 

My vision was still blurred at the edges, and every movement made the world spin dangerously.

And I don't even know how much time has passed since I fell unconscious.

I checked the watch on my tied hand. It showed 5:30 p.m.

Damn, 2 hours...

I muttered, "Can any of you bother to explain what's going on and why I'm tied down?"

A voice answered from the darkness. "I'm surprised you're awake already."

I looked forward and saw Scar and Steve standing in front of me. 

They were both watching me intently.

These guys definitely have something on their minds...

After thinking carefully through the pain, I came up with a few possibilities. 

First, they definitely weren't sent or ordered by anyone to do this because if they were, they would've been watching or chasing me from the start. 

Second, they might be like the old Michael—a hunter killer...

Third, if they're not hunter killers, then it must be about revenge.

I included the revenge option because, when I looked through Michael's memories, I found out he failed to kill three hunters. 

Actually, they escaped from his grasp. 

But the whereabouts of those hunters are still mysterious because, even with all his power and influence, Michael couldn't find out who they really were in the human domain. 

I don't know why, but those three guys stayed quiet and never exposed Michael to the media or the government.

I think it's better to act panicked, like a normal person would in this situation.

But still, don't they know who I am? If anything happens to me, my father will definitely take revenge. I know this because of Michael's memories—his father is vengeful.

"What the hell are you both trying to do?" I demanded, my voice hoarse.

Steve remained silent, his expression unreadable. 

Scar stepped closer, his creepy smile even more unsettling up close. 

He leaned in, his face just inches from mine, and touched my cheek.

"Nothing, Michael," he said softly, almost gently. "Scar won't do anything. But I... I will torture you to pieces. Don't worry though, I won't kill you—just make you crippled for the rest of your life."

Panic surged through me as his words sank in. 

Why? 

Because torture is something I would never want to go through.

This wasn't what I expected. I thought they might be hunter-killers. If they were, I could have tried to buy them off with money or scared them with my influence... 

But now it's clear—they're here for some kind of revenge...

I struggled against the ropes, but they were too tight. 

Scar's smile widened as he watched my futile efforts. 

I felt the cold sweat trickling down my back, the reality of my situation sinking in deeper with every passing second. 

Panic clawed at me, but I forced myself to stay calm. I had to think of a way out of this.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked, trying to buy time. "What did I ever do to you?"

Scar's smile grew wider, his eyes glinting with a sadistic excitement. "Hey, Michael, really? Really? You don't remember me?"

I looked him up and down, trying to find any memory of him in Michael's past. But there was nothing—no hint of recognition. "No, I don't," I replied flatly.

He dramatically placed his hand over his heart. "Michael, you just broke my heart, you know..."

Then, without warning, his face turned cold, and he slapped me hard. 

The pain was immediate, sending a shockwave through my mind...

For a moment, my ears rang, and I couldn't hear anything.

When my hearing came back, Scar was leaning in close again. "Now do you remember me?"

I was conflicted. I genuinely had no memory of him, but admitting that seemed dangerous. "No—" I started to say, but before I could finish, I felt another sharp sting on my left cheek.

Huh? What just happened? Why does it hurt so much?

Did he... slap me again?

But I didn't even see him move his hand.

It took me a few seconds to realize that Scar had slapped me again. 

My cheeks were now swollen and burning with pain. 

He leaned in closer, his face inches from mine, and asked, "Now?"

Desperation clawed at me. 

I had to say something to stop him from hitting me again. 

If I kept answering "no," he might slap me even harder than before.

"Yes, yes, I remember you," I lied, hoping to appease him.

Scar's eyes narrowed, scrutinizing me for any sign of deception. I tried to hold his gaze, despite the throbbing pain in my face.

"Good," he said finally, a satisfied smirk spreading across his lips. "Okay, now tell me, am I your friend or your enemy?"

I thought hard about what to say. 

Friend or enemy? 

Given the situation, I decided on "friend."

"Friend," I replied, hoping to defuse the tension.

But before I could react, there was a sudden swish sound and searing pain shot through my hand. 

I looked down in shock to see a knife buried in the middle of my palm, blood gushing out profusely.

And then, my mind went blank for a few seconds until the pain from my bleeding hand hit me like a tsunami...

"Ahhhhhhhhh, you bloody bastard!" I screamed in agony.

Scar swiftly shoved a cloth into my mouth, silencing me before I could finish my outburst.

"Huhahhbabbhhahba."

I couldn't say anything because there was a piece of cloth in my mouth.

I was so frustrated that my mind actually suggested killing him if I survived...

The seed of revenge was slowly growing in my heart.

"That's the wrong answer, Michael," he said coldly. "I am not your friend. I'm your enemy." He chuckled darkly.

He looked down at my bleeding hand with mocking concern. "Oh, and I'm sorry about this. I had to punish you for giving me the wrong answer."

Tears of pain and frustration welled up in my eyes. 

Scar's words and actions confirmed my worst fears—I was trapped, at the mercy of someone who meant to inflict suffering without remorse. 

Scar fixed his intense gaze on me, sending shivers down my spine. "Michael, remember that day—no, that party—when you insulted me in front of those big shot's kids?"

Then he removed the cloth from my mouth, allowing me to speak at last. "You bastard," I shouted, "I swear I'm going to cut you into a hundred pieces and throw them in the river."

With that threat, I unleashed all my anger, frustration, and pain, not considering that in our current situation, I couldn't even lay a finger on him, let alone carry out my threat of cutting him into pieces.

He chuckled again and said, "Michael, you're quite foolish. Do you really think you could harm me? Where does this courage of yours come from?"

Then he leaned closer to me, staring into my eyes, and continued, "Can't you understand the situation? You're not in your mansion anymore; you're in our base... Think before you speak because if I get too angry, you might not live to see tomorrow."

"And don't think I'll hold back just because you're the heir to the Frostburne family. Nah, that's not happening. So... You understand, right?"

Those eyes... I've seen them somewhere before.

They resemble those of a serial killer from the movies.

They are the eyes of someone who has ruthlessly hunted thousands of people.

Those eyes don't show empathy or kindness.

They seem to take pleasure in causing others pain...

He is telling the truth... If I make him angry then he would definitely kill me... 

I replied, "I understand..."

He then went on, "Good, so, answer me now. Do you remember that day?"

I strained my memory, trying to recall any such incident from Michael's past, but it was a blank. 

A servant at a party? What day are you talking about?

Throughout Michael's life, he attended numerous parties, but instances where he insulted anyone, especially a servant, were extremely rare. 

After he became a hunter Killer, he made every effort to maintain a clean record, so such behavior at a party was highly unlikely.

"I... I don't remember," I managed to say, my voice shaky.

Scar's lips curled into a sneer. "Of course you don't remember. After all, back then, I was just a mere servant—no, an insect in your eyes."

He paused, his eyes flickering with anger. "You were so cruel, Michael. You and your friends thought it was funny to belittle me. But you never thought about how it would feel for me."

As Scar spoke, the memory began to form in my mind—a vague recollection of Michael and his friends humiliating a servant at a party. 

It was a fleeting image, but enough to understand Scar's resentment...

Michael, before he died, ensured he left me with a sadistic bastard to contend with.

"I'm sure that even now you have not remembered," Scar continued bitterly. "That's why I'm here—to make you pay for what you did."

His words sent a chill down my spine. Scar wasn't just seeking revenge; he was out for retribution fueled by years of humiliation and resentment.

"And now," Scar's voice turned cold and menacing, "you'll understand the price of your actions."

Scar's chilling command cut through the tension like a knife. "Steve, give me that plier."

Steve nodded silently, his unreadable expression betraying no hint of emotion as he moved towards a massive boulder nearby.

He disappeared briefly behind it, then reappeared with a pair of pliers in hand.

'Huh? Where did he get those pliers? Is there something hidden behind that big rock?'

Without a word, he handed them to Scar.

What is he going to do with that?

I watched in growing horror, my mind racing to comprehend the grisly intention behind Scar's request.

No, Don't tell me...

The realization hit me like a wave crashing against rocks—I knew exactly what he planned to do with those pliers.

"What are you doing, Scar? No, no, no, you can't do that, please!" I pleaded desperately, the panic rising in my voice.

Scar's smile widened malevolently as he leaned in close, his eyes glinting with sadistic pleasure. 

"Please, not there, no, no!"

He ignored my pleas, his fingers expertly positioning the pliers near one of my nails. With a swift, merciless motion, he clamped down and ripped the nail from its bed.

The pain was excruciating, a searing agony that shot through my entire body. I screamed in sheer torment, unable to contain the primal anguish that tore through me.

"Ughhhhhhhhh!"