Chapter 3 - Anger

Seon-Mi bided her time for two hours, waiting patiently for the men to depart before emerging from her hiding spot. She trailed Mr. Yamashita to his car as the sun dipped below the horizon, setting Kanda's nightlife into motion.

The Red Mile, a narrow street filled with restaurants, bars, nightclubs, and brothels on both sides of the street, buzzed with activity. It was a mile-long road catering to Kanda's after-hours scene.

Mr. Yamashita headed toward a dark, secluded car park adjacent to the Red Mile where he has parked his car. As he prepared to enter his car, Seon-Mi approached him from behind.

"Mr. Yamashita," she called, causing him to turn around abruptly.

"Seon-mi! What a nice surprise. What are you doing on this side of town? I know you're an adult now but this is really no place for women of your caliber, especially at this time of night," he said.

"What did those men mean?" Seon-mi questioned.

"Huh? I don't get what you mean," he replied.

"The men you were drinking with. I heard you all speaking about my dad. Is what they said true?"

"What are you talking about Song Seon-Mi? Are you feeling alright?" he deflected.

"Don't patronize me! I know what I heard! They said they couldn't have done it without you. Is that true?"

Mr. Yamashita's friendly demeanor suddenly shifted. Scratching his head, he retorted, "Argh, why did you have to come here Seon-mi? You should've just stayed at home."

Visibly confused, Seon-Mi began to respond, but before she could even get the first word out, Mr. Yamashita struck her in the head with the butt of his gun, rendering her unconscious in a single blow.

He scoffed, "This fucking girl. You've just made my life five times harder you know that?"

Holstering his gun, he lifted Seon-Mi off the ground, slinging her over his shoulder. He approached his car and unlocked the trunk, tossing Seon-Mi inside and shutting it. He looked around the deserted car park to ensure there were no witnesses.

He brought out his phones and dialleda number on it, the phone rang momentarily then someone picked up.

"We've got a problem" said Mr. Yamashita.

* * *

Seon-Mi awoke to a searing, intense pain on the left side of her head. Her brain throbbed, and blood trickled down her face, dripping onto her leg. The rhythmic sound of blood hitting her thigh resonated through the small, empty room.

Attempting to stand, she quickly realized she was tied to a chair, her arms restrained behind her back. The room offered minimal features—no furniture except for the chair she sat on, a door, and a lightbulb hanging from the ceiling.

As Seon-Mi struggled to make sense of her surroundings, the events leading to her current predicament rushed back to her.

"That fucking bastard!"

Her world began to fracture, the betrayal by someone who was meant to be a friend, an ally, and practically a member of the family, striking a blow that went beyond comprehension.

"YAMASHITAAA!!! YOU FUCKING BASTARD! SHOW YOURSELF!" She shouted.

After a few seconds the door swung open, revealing Mr. Yamashita accompanied by another man. This tall, skinny figure sported a leather apron stained with blood marks. He wheeled in a cart that had an array of torture devices on it, and the door slammed shut behind them. The man positioned the cart in the corner and stood patiently beside it.

"You bastard! How could you do—" Seon-Mi's words were abruptly cut off by a stinging slap to the face.

"Now listen here," Mr. Yamashita asserted, "I'm going to ask you one question, and I'm only going to ask it once. If you don't answer, then the man standing over there will make you answer. Is that clear?"

He pointed to the ominous figure awaiting instructions in the corner.

Seon-Mi's head hung, hair obscuring her face as she recovered from the slap. Mr. Yamashita grabbed a handful of her hair from behind, yanking her head upright.

"Now answer me. Who else did you tell about what you heard?"

No response came; instead, Seon-Mi began to laugh, completely confusing the two men in the room. Seizing the opportunity, she spat in Mr. Yamashita's face—a projectile of blood and saliva blinded him momentarily. He released her hair and staggered backward, wiping his face as he cursed at Seon-Mi.

"You fucking bitch!" he exclaimed, wiping his face before delivering a punch to her jaw.

A loud crack echoed as Seon-Mi spat out blood on impact. Wincing in pain, Mr. Yamashita shook his injured hand.

"Fuck! That hurt," he grumbled.

"Don't want to talk? That's fine. Hangman, you know what to do." With those words, Mr. Yamashita left the room, nursing his injured hand as he exited.

The man wheeled the cart beside Seon-mi and began to arrange his tools.

"Hello there, Seon-Mi. You can call me Hangman," the man spoke in an impartial tone.

"You see, I've been given a job to do here today, and I don't intend to disappoint the boss. So here's how this is going to go: I'm going to ask you a series of questions. Each time you don't answer, I'll remove a finger. When we're all out of fingers, I'll move on to your toes, and when we're all out of toes, I move on to limbs." He continued his monologue while meticulously wiping his tools with a cloth.

"I take much pride in my work Miss Song, and I take pride in being able to deliver results each and every time I put on this apron."

He put the tool he was cleaning on the cart and knelt down in front of Seon-mi.

"Pain is the only true emotion, wouldn't you agree? They say 'pain isn't an emotion; it's a subjective experience with an emotional component', but I strongly disagree with that statement. Anger, happiness, disgust, satisfaction, love, pride, sadness—all these emotions can be faked... but pain is the one emotion that is truly pure. I intend to extract that purity out of you and bear it to the world, or at least to this room." The chilling words hung in the air, casting a grim atmosphere over the confined space.

He stood up, pliers in hand. "Let's begin. So, who else have you told what you heard?"

Seon-Mi locked eyes with the man and defiantly declared, "You're gonna have to kill me because I'm not telling you murderers a single thing."

"Well... we'll just have to see about that won't we?"

He walked behind Seon-Mi, untied one of her hands and grabbed one of her fingers, placing it in the grip of the pliers. Without hesitation he snapped it backward, and ripped it clean off. Seon-Mi's agonizing scream reverberated through the room, blood gushing from her wound.

"Oh don't worry, Miss Song. I won't let you bleed out. You see, I'm quite adept at keeping people who are on the brink of death alive. So just sit back and enjoy the ride."

Despite the excruciating pain, Seon-Mi continued to scream, a visceral response to a level of physical agony she had never experienced before. Yet, compared to the pain on that rainy day, this was a walk in the park. She gritted her teeth, holding in her scream.

"Oh, come now. Don't stop the screams; that's half of the fun."

With saliva and blood drooling from her mouth, a swollen face from the earlier punch, and blood still dripping from her head, she looked at the man with a death glare.

"You won't get away with this," she uttered.

"Oh Seon-Mi, we already have."