Chapter 1: I like it rough

BEIJING

An exposed man was lying face down on a wooden bed with his torso and legs hidden beneath an expensive towel. The darkroom is illuminated by spherical lanterns that render a hazy yellow glow. Decorated on the red ornate walls are Chinese golden dragon ensembles that give the space a majestic approach. The left side has a traditional circular cedar wood bathtub full of hot water with essences of jasmine and rose. Guests can soak themselves while attendants wash their bodies upon recommendation. For entertainment, a 50-inch television is imposed on the wall facing the naked little man anticipating a good old relaxation.

A movie currently playing hums the white noise out. An old Chinese film of Jet Li about a swordsman who got caught in an old war. The plot of the picture is to search for the forbidden scroll. The one who uncovers it will be granted invincibility and rule the Martial Arts world.

"Hún dàn." The man comments, pursing his lips as he refers to the portion of the movie where they mock the male antagonist.

The scroll he seizes from the heroes gradually transforms him into a woman. From his thick voice that mellowed, skin that smoothened and ironically fell in love with a man. A twist of fate as Jin sees it. The movie was ahead of its time when it comes to denoting passion but the Chinese film industry infers it as shocking and outrageous. It tanked. The following franchise becomes less popular as if forgotten. The trilogy withers down its success and is branded as trash by the critics.

Nonetheless, it was a masterpiece for him. Political aside, the qualities of the characters can be comparable at this period. The expression of devotion and compassion in contrast to love and ambition is fascinating. No gender love is exquisite. As a man who has lived most of his life outside of the mainland, he is more forthcoming when it comes to matters of desire. How many times does he cover up government representatives from their profanities? Indiscretions? And illicit affairs? And only a few years back, the death of a Chinese computer expert caught in a BDSM house in Berlin.

It's all about desire.

The creeky sound of the opening door makes the man squirm in excitement as he fit his thick cheeks back in place on the hole it is intended.

"How are you, Mr. Jin?" The woman's delicate voice excites him.

From the sound of the woman's accent, he knows she isn't native. However, it is not the case for businesses like this. Most owners hire diverse employees to cater to locals and tourists. Large establishments demonstrate their company as a top tier when it comes to visitors' priorities. Their range of women goes from Russian blonde girls to Filipinas with their mocha-colored skin, Nigerians and their flawless ebony look, and local Chinese women that can speak Cantonese. The detail is amusing for a local spa at the Second Circle Road in Chaoyang District.

"Good." The man replies with a mischievous grin. "Can you do it hard? I like it rough." He adds.

The woman giggles politely at the man's sexual quips. She stretches her arms forward locking her hands like a knit. The faint cracking sounds of bones can be heard as she bends her fingers to stretch. It's her habit of preparing for a job and she strives to deliver her best.

The massage starts at the man's shoulders going to his blades, tracing the bones on his back and into his hips. The sensation feels euphoric for the man. Every motion of the woman's hand expels the discomfort of stress that his body has. The pressure accumulating from the past week is torture. Being a diplomat attaché is troublesome for the mind and his body suffers. Relaxing once a week in his favorite spa is his way of recovery. Pampering himself to be soothed by beautiful women makes it all worth it.

After a few strokes, heated stones are set on top of the man's back as part of a new therapy. It's unusual for him but he does not say no to a change of service. The woman uses gloves on her hand to collect the stones from a cauldron. She positions them one by one directly on his skin without cover. The warm prickly heat of the stones is unbearable at first but oddly pleasing. He closes his eyes and lets himself get flush away by the warmness. When the woman gets the last stone she lifts it high, and with an enormous force crashes it on the man's back-breaking his spine. The act paralyzes the victim which the woman perfectly schemes. She doesn't want an instant kill. Too easy and tasteless for her type.

Jin screams out loud from the excruciating pain and tries to move his hands and feet but fails. The fear makes his plea for his life, bargaining everything he can offer to the woman who stands silent to his cries. He cannot move his body. He cannot run for help. He cannot defend himself. The horror of the looming death intensifies his howl as his last instinct to life clings on to run from his mouth.

"You like it rough, right?" The woman says with a German accent. Carrying a face wide smile walking towards her victim.

Pulling a ten blade out of her pocket, the woman squats down to see the man's face in his ugliness. She clutches his tongue tightly in her hand and starts to slice him from below, sides, and above. Blood gushes from the severed veins, staining the white marble floor and the bed's elegant frame. The shrieks do not stop as the pain heightens, it only intensifies the atrociousness the man sense. Jin's eyes go wide as he sees his tongue haul out of his mouth. The monstrous act is finish but there might be more to come. Thinking of further hellish pain gives him extreme chest shock, his body starts to tremble and his eyes go wide. He loses his ability to think and breathing becomes hard. Whether this is fear of dying or fear chooses to end his life. When he loses his hope to live, the seizures stop.

The woman stands up and inserts her souvenir on a transparent tight bag. She goes to the bathtub, takes off the gloves, and cleans her hands. Putting two fingers on the bloody carcass laying on the bed, she checks the man's pulse to see if he's dead. Before leaving the mess from her recent kill, she leaves a postcard with a message for someone dear. She knows her words will find the right people. All the woman desire now is for them to start the action.

"Villanelle, it's your turn to die."