CHAPTER WARNING: This chapter contains mentions of physical assault and injuries.
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"Why are you doing this?!" I yelled out with the little strength I had left. "I am not a spy from Bharat. I don't—
"You think we care that you ain't a spy?" He laughed harshly. "My master doesn't need proof. He just wants you gone. Why should a fucking foreigner be a part of the empire? You're nothing but a filthy black man."
I noticed the whip in his hand—and a piece of dry cake.
"Eat this," he said flatly. "Then we'll continue. Can't have you dying of hunger before the fun starts."
What kindness.
He handed me the food. It was stale, dry, and hard, but hunger didn't give me a choice.
It took forever to chew, so he filled the silence with kicks—each one timed, as if to make the minutes pass faster.
When I finally finished, he told me to stand.
Then—
SLASH.
The first whip. The pain burned like fire searing through my legs.
I almost cried out, but before I could react, another strike landed across my arm. Then another. And another.
My body gave up before my mind did, and I fell to the cold stone floor. I thought that was it—that maybe this was how it ended.
SLASH.
I lost count after that. The pain blurred together with the sound of leather cutting through the air.
When I finally stopped feeling anything, I realized I was lying in a pool of something warm. My blood perhaps. I felt water running down my face, it was my tears.
Was I crying because of the pain… or because I realized I might die here, alone, with no chance to explain anything to my family?
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When I woke up, my body jerked as I coughed up blood.
Ah. I must've blacked out again. I always did when the thoughts came—like my mind just shut off to survive.
The man was gone. My vision spun, and I could barely sit upright. My back felt heavy, my arms numb.
If only I'd listened to Bao Qin. If only I'd been more careful. Even Renshu's warnings echoed faintly in my mind.
My arms and legs were bruised, still bleeding in places. The cold made it worse—each wound felt frozen open.
Winter must've been close. Or maybe already here.
How long had I been here? Days? Weeks? I couldn't tell anymore.
Another cough. More blood. I wiped it away and waited—for what, I didn't know.
But something in me knew this wasn't over.
The door creaked. A voice sliced through the silence. Yong Le.
"Well, look who's awake," he sneered. "Finally. Let's see what I've made of you.
He grabbed my arm and yanked up the sleeve. My skin was lined with cuts, bruises, blood.
"Not bad," he said with a mocking grin. "Almost looks like art."
He circled me slowly, inspecting every wound as if admiring his handiwork.
I held my breath, praying he'd lose interest—that it would end there.
But his tone shifted. "Still, you can't admire the art without looking at the whole thing."
My face jerked up a bit. What did he mean by checking the whole body? Surely he wouldn't—
But my fear was right. He unwrapped the clothes I wore, one by one and threw them on the ground.
I prayed, hoping that he would stop but he didnt. He would know. I cant let this happen—
"Why do you—wait, you're a woman? Ha! There's simply no way—looks like I uncovered another secret! No wonder you were so weak, could barely go against me."
His rough hand grabbed the back of my head and pulled me forward.
"You should have told this to me earlier. Then you wouldn't have to go through all this. This completely changes the plan, I have so much more that I'd rather do with you. So much more..."
His eyes darkened in a way that i would know what it meant. My worst fear would happen. All that beating and kicking had made me completely weak. But this—this would shatter me from the inside.
I try to push him away, yet its no use. My arms were weak, so were my legs. I had blurry vision and felt my head spin around.
Yong Le pushed me onto the wall and then—