Chapter 140: Interrogation
"Ah!!!"
A splash of icy water shocked Shota violently back to consciousness. Pain, sharp and nauseating, lanced through his head from the earlier blow. He instinctively tried to raise his hands, to shield himself, but found his arms immobile and restrained.
Water streamed down his face. He blinked rapidly, vision slowly clearing from the blur. He realized, with growing horror, that his shirt had been ripped off. His hands were bound tightly above his head, suspending him from a heavy wooden beam overhead. His feet dangled uselessly, barely touching the damp, earthen floor below.
Looking up through dripping hair, he saw the hooded figure standing before him again, casually tossing aside an empty water bottle. A small bonfire crackled nearby, casting flickering, distorted shadows across the rough walls of what appeared to be an abandoned basement.
Panic surged. His mind flashed back – the dark street, the sudden attack, the hooded figure… "Who are you?! What do you want?!" he screamed, struggling desperately against the ropes, the rough hemp biting into his wrists. Useless. He was completely helpless.
Realizing resistance was futile, Shota immediately switched tactics, resorting to pleading. "Brother! Please! Whatever you want, money? I have money! Let me go! Please, I'll give you everything…"
His desperate pleas were cut off by a brutal punch to his exposed abdomen. Air exploded from his lungs. "Ah!" Before he could recover, another punch landed in the same spot, doubling him over against the ropes, vomit rising in his throat. He gasped, unable to speak, eyes bulging, tongue lolling uncontrollably, and saliva dribbling from the corner of his mouth.
"Awake now?" the hooded figure asked calmly, the electronically altered voice devoid of emotion. It reached out, pinched Shota's chin roughly, forcing his head up.
Through watering eyes, Shota stared directly into the empty, smiling eyes of the Jigglypuff mask beneath the hood. The juxtaposition was terrifying.
"Tch. Trash," the masked figure – Xiu – commented with quiet disgust, releasing Shota's chin abruptly, letting his head slump forward again.
Xiu calmly walked over to the bonfire, sat down on an overturned crate nearby, picked up a long iron poker, and began casually stirring the flames. Sparks danced upwards into the gloom. "Tell me, Shota," Xiu began, his voice still electronically masked, calm, almost conversational, "why do you think the company sent me to find you?"
Silence filled the cellar, broken only by Shota's ragged breathing and the crackling fire. After a few seconds, Shota slowly lifted his head again, trying to project defiance. "What… what company? What are you talking about?"
A soft, chilling chuckle emanated from beneath the mask. Xiu looked up, meeting Shota's gaze across the firelight. "Why play dumb?" he asked softly. "Why do you think the company would tolerate… what you've done?"
"I don't know what you're talking about!" Shota insisted, trying to sound indignant. "You've got the wrong person! I'm just a manager at Shihui Bookstore! Let me down! Now!" He started struggling violently again, testing the ropes, but they held firm.
Xiu just watched him, the plastic smile of the mask seeming to mock Shota's futile efforts. When Shota finally gave up, exhausted, Xiu gestured towards the shadows in the corner of the cellar. "He," Xiu said conversationally, "is looking for the manager of Shihui bookstore too."
Shota watched, bewildered, as a dark ripple seemed to detach itself from the shadows— a figure emerged into the firelight – Kurokawa. Shota stared, aghast. "Kurokawa?! What are you doing here?"
The corners of Xiu's lips, hidden beneath the mask, curled upwards slightly. "So," he asked Shota again, his voice dangerously smooth, "are you still the manager of the Shihui bookstore?"
Shota stared from Kurokawa's grim face back to the masked figure by the fire. The pieces clicked into place. Panic, cold and absolute, seized him.
Xiu didn't wait for an answer, continuing his monologue, reciting details from Shota's personnel file and likely police records. "Shota Kimura. Originally just a street punk. Charged for petty theft, shoplifting, caught multiple times. Avoided serious jail time due to being a minor." Xiu sneered audibly. "But somewhere along the line, you developed a silver tongue, a talent for persuasion. The company," he used the term deliberately, "saw that talent, offered you a chance and recruited you as a salesperson."
He poked the fire with the iron bar. "And you were good," Xiu conceded fairly. "Rose through the ranks quickly. Top sales figures. Earned your promotion. Entrusted with managing the new Viridian City branch." He stopped stirring the fire, looked up directly at Shota again, his voice turning hard, dropping several octaves. "And this," he repeated his earlier accusation, "is how you repay the company's trust? Embezzlement? Fraud? Negligence?"
Shota felt genuinely terrified now, staring into the dark eyeholes of the mask. He didn't dare meet that unseen gaze. He started shouting again, desperately. "I don't know what you're talking about! Let me go! You can't do this!"
"You'll learn," Xiu interrupted softly. He stood up, holding the iron poker he'd been stirring the fire with. Its tip glowed a dull, angry red. He slowly raised it, pointing it towards Shota.
"What… what are you doing?!" Shota screamed, thrashing wildly again. "No! Please! Don't!" He watched, paralyzed by terror, as the glowing red tip drew closer, closer… He could feel the intense heat radiating from it, smell the faint scent of burning metal.
The poker stopped inches from Shota's face. "Recognize your mistake?" Xiu asked quietly.
"No! I didn't do anything! I swear!" Shota sobbed, squeezing his eyes shut.
"Pity." Xiu's calm tone suddenly snapped. Without warning, he jabbed the red-hot tip of the poker directly onto Shota's exposed chest.
"AHHHHHHHHH!!!"
Shota's scream was primal, tearing through the cellar, echoing off the damp walls. His body arched uncontrollably against the ropes, muscles spasming. The immediate, searing agony was unbearable. The sickening smell of burning flesh filled the air.
Kurokawa, watching silently from the shadows, flinched violently at the scream, turning pale, but remained rooted to the spot, too afraid to intervene or even look away.
Xiu held the poker against Shota's chest, his hand terrifyingly steady, showing no reaction to the screams or the smell. After five or six agonizing seconds, he slowly withdrew the poker, leaving behind a blackened, sizzling circle of cauterized flesh.
Shota's eyes rolled back in his head. His face was deathly white, slick with sweat. His body sagged against the ropes, trembling uncontrollably, muscles twitching erratically. If not for the ropes holding him up, he would have collapsed.
"I dislike resorting to such methods," Xiu stated calmly, casually plunging the poker back into the bonfire to reheat. He walked over to Shota, roughly grabbed his chin again, forcing him to look up. "But I did give you a chance to cooperate; a chance at a new life." He patted Shota's cheek mockingly. "Tsk, tsk. Still think you can bluff your way out? Dare to embezzle company funds, and this is the consequence." He gestured towards the glowing poker. "There are many more places I can apply this. We can play all night."
Shota stared into the empty eyes of the mask, seeing not a human, but something cold, calculating, and utterly devoid of mercy. 'A devil! He's a devil!'
"Tell me," Xiu prompted softly, sitting back down by the fire, picking up a dry branch and tossing it onto the flames. "Tell me everything. Cooperate… and the pain stops."
Looking at the flickering flames, Shota felt like he was watching his own immolation. The fear, the pain, the certainty of more agony if he resisted… it broke him completely.
"I… I…" His throat felt raw, torn from screaming. He swallowed hard, his voice emerging as a hoarse croak.
Xiu waited patiently, casually poking the fire with a fresh piece of wood, not rushing him.
Seeing the poker glowing red again in the fire, Shota finally cracked. The dam burst. Words poured out of him in a panicked, incoherent flood – admitting everything, the false accounting, the kickbacks from suppliers, the skimming off the top, implicating others, begging for mercy…
Xiu listened silently, occasionally asking sharp, probing questions, extracting every detail, every name, every hidden transaction, while Kurokawa observed grimly from the shadows. The confession went on, punctuated by Shota's occasional sobs and whimpers.
Suddenly, just as Shota seemed to be finishing his confession, Xiu abruptly stood up again, snatching the red-hot poker from the fire.
Shota, completely unprepared, could only scream again as Xiu mercilessly plunged the glowing metal tip into his abdomen. The confession dissolved into incoherent wails of pure agony, breaking the strange, grim harmony of the cellar once more.