6 — Treason (2)

If one wished to see how cruel humans could become, this was the place.

The torture chamber run by the Operatives Bureau of the Eastern Depot.

It laid bare the brutality of an organization that hesitated at nothing to extract information.

Contrary to lurid imagination, there weren’t rows of terrifying instruments. There was only a stout chair at the center—so soaked with blood it looked dark red—and a brazier blazing hot enough to dry the onlooker’s throat.

Creak—

Clunk.

The heavy torture-room door opened, revealing two men: Captain Gye Yu of the Operatives, and a stalwart carrying a strange leather satchel—the man they called a torture technician.

Neung Je-gang had long since been tied to the chair. His inner power had been sealed, and the great tendons and bones of his four limbs had been broken.

Ordinarily crimes of treason or insubordination fell to the Capture Bureau, but because Neung Je-gang came from the Capture Bureau, the Operatives handled his restraint and interrogation.

“Heh-heh, Captain Neung! No—no longer a captain. In any case, what a pity to meet like this.”

The smile with which Gye Yu had once treated him like a close friend now twisted into a sneer.

“Your brother—unfortunate. Who could have imagined you’d meet there. Anyway, you’re no longer a Depot agent, just a criminal. Obstructing a Depot operation makes you guilty of insubordination, and trying to let a Necromancer heretic go falls under treason. You will have no chance to live. Ha-ha! Oh—know who this is?”

“A torture technician.”

“Right. Knew it at a glance, did you?”

“I already told you everything that happened. What more is there to learn?”

“Learn? Nothing at all. Today is just torture. Not planned, but I’ve long wanted to watch you broken.”

“You ‘couldn’t stand the sight of me’? What fault have I given you?”

“Fault? Heh-heh-heh. Many. But the greatest—being better than me. That wounded me. Enough to make me do this today. I hate anyone who blocks my path. Begin.”

“Yes.”

A torture technician lived by a vicious heart; without one, he could not make a living by torture.

“We’ll start with the basics. You served in the Depot—you know what comes next.”

He unfurled the satchel.

Out spilled a line of tools: tiny gold needles one often saw, clamps large and small, and odd contraptions whose use was unclear.

The first torment began with a single gold needle. He slid one beneath each of Neung Je-gang’s fingernails and toenails.

Neung Je-gang clenched his teeth and shut his eyes tight. The unbearable pain at his fingertips spread through his whole body. Still, he did not scream.

“Idiots use tubes at times like this,” the technician rambled. “Madness. Tubes draw too much blood, kill them early—basic sense ignored. Heh-heh! I’m not like that. My art is keeping you alive to suffer long. Rest easy—you won’t die easily. Oh? Not even a scream. I like you already. The Depot always satisfies me.”

Madness crept over the technician’s face—his pride pricked by a victim who made no sound.

Even Gye Yu, sickened mid-way, left with a grim look. He had seen all manner of cruelty as an Operatives captain, but to watch torturer and victim silently “do their jobs” without a single word or cry was unbearable.

“Maniac.”

Gye Yu muttered to no one as he stepped out.

After some time, the silence in the chamber shifted.

“Huff… huff… In all the years since I began this filthy trade, I’ve never seen one so hard. A… amazing. You endured what no one could, without a single groan.”

Neung Je-gang had not groaned or screamed, but he hung limp, unconscious. The technician spoke as if to himself—words that the senseless man could not hear.

“What I said before was true: you won’t die easily. This is your first time suffering like this—and mine, doing torture without questions. Hah! With a brute like you, questions would be useless anyway.”

He began to put his tools away. The needles sunk into Neung Je-gang’s flesh were all withdrawn and returned to the leather satchel.

Then the man produced a white vial from his bosom.

“They told me—no matter what, he mustn’t die during torture. Hah! What a day. I shred a man and then… apply medicine. Maybe it’s time to quit making a living by this.”

Muttering, he dabbed medicine wherever his work had drawn blood. The effect was striking; bleeding stopped at once.

“How long do they plan to torment you if I’m told not to kill you… tch.”

Shaking his head after finishing, he opened the door and stepped out.

After quite a while, the body bound to the chair twitched.

As soon as his wits returned, the pain raging through his body made Neung Je-gang grit his teeth.

“S… so I’m not dead?”

That much was clear—the pain proved it.

Clunk.

As if waiting for him to wake, Gye Yu entered again.

“You’re back with us. So—how was it? They say you never screamed once. I always knew you were a hard case.”

He came up beside Neung Je-gang.

“Your disposition and this affair’s handling have been decided. Unfortunate. Dying would be kinder… Criminal Neung Je-gang, you are to be sent to Forbidden Demon Prison. You’re spared quartering for treason only because your past service is recognized. You know Forbidden Demon Prison, don’t you? Once you go in, you don’t come out—even dead. If I recall, quite a few prisoners in there were put away by you. Ha-ha! Oh, and that lackey of yours, Cheong Yeon—he’s a criminal now too. For knowing your crime and looking the other way, he’ll do three years in prison.”

“Cheong Yeon…?”

Neung Je-gang did not fear going to Forbidden Demon Prison for himself. But Cheong Yeon had done nothing wrong—only pitied him.

Three years was not long, but Cheong Yeon was a martial man; and Depot punishments sealed one’s martial power. Three years like that would leave him a ruin.

“Gwak Ung? That fledgling’s been reassigned to the Secret Institute. Don’t know how, but it seems he kept his ties.”

“Good for him.”

Gwak Ung had left the Secret Institute because he was weak to women—but at the secret chapter, many of the frenzied attackers had been women.

He must have felt he’d die unless he cut them too. And indeed many women had fallen to his blade. He had overcome his weakness; there was no longer a reason to stay in the Capture Bureau.

“This will be the last time I suffer your face. Heh-heh. Want to hear a delicious little story? Five years ago, after I graduated the Depot Martial Academy and joined the Operatives, someone approached me—just because we were classmates. Know who?”

“Me.”

“Correct. You, Neung Je-gang. You asked me to find the younger brother you’d been separated from five years earlier. You said he’d been sold to Xinjiang or Xizang as a slave.”

“I did.”

“I had no intention of helping. You were laughable—asking favors just because we’d been classmates. You might not care, but you weren’t even on my horizon.”

“Is that so?”

“Three years after I came to know you, things changed. That detestable, ‘laughable’ man of such talent rocketed up—rumor said the next Beijing Branch Chief’s seat was practically reserved for you. Know how I felt?”

“Filthy.”

“Exactly. Filthy. Beijing Branch Chief—and a greenhorn like you set to take it? I wanted that reserved seat for myself. For that, you had to disappear. I started looking for your weakness. But there are men like you—no weakness found. No wealth, food and lodging all on the Capture Bureau, no family… yet capable enough to be loved by the high and mighty. Infuriating.”

“Heh… was I such a man?”

One often knew oneself least. Neung Je-gang had rarely thought about what kind of man he was. He had no interest in politics or power; he cared little how others saw him.

“You were. Then I remembered—you did have family. The brother sold into slavery. I searched for him by every route. Finding a man on a name alone is no easy thing. But I found him in the end. Remember the day I gave you news of him?”

“Of course. The day we first found traces of the Necromancer Cult.”

“You remember. Truth is, by then I had already bought your brother from slavery and had him hidden.”

“What?”

Neung Je-gang’s head snapped up.

“Buying a slave—hardly unusual. I just didn’t yet know how to use him, so I kept him out of sight. And Heaven helped me—you brought me a case about the Necromancer Cult.”

“Th-then…?”

“Right. I sent your brother into the Necromancer Cult. My initial plan was simply to arrange a meeting—between you and your brother as a cultist. Family in a heretic cult could stain your promotion. And opportunity came easily—Mount Sobyeon. That was exactly where I’d sent him. You know the rest—you lived it. I even personally killed a Peng Clan warrior who tried to kill your brother. The two of you had to meet first—your brother couldn’t die before that.”

“Heh… heh… heh-heh… You toyed with us—my brother and me—for a branch chief’s chair?”

“Not ‘just’ a branch chief. Without that post, I can’t become Operatives Chief or Central Plains Director. It’s a rung one must step on to rise in the Depot. In any case, all went as I wished. You met your brother—and you went further than I imagined. Whew—I was stunned. Even if it was a surprise strike, a Wudang swordsman dying without twitching a finger! But you killed the wrong man. I severed your brother’s head.”

“Wh-what—gah!”

Neung Je-gang spat the clotted blood that had welled in his chest—rage boiling over.

“Tsk. Spitting blood already? To be fair, Jin Ryeong wasn’t at fault. I merely told him: ‘If Wudang does nothing, the Jianghu wanderers may laugh—so bring back a head as proof you caught a fugitive.’ Then I showed him your brother’s corpse.”

“Y-you…!”

Cough!

Another bitter mouthful rose in his throat.

“I won’t forgive you. Never you…”

“Forgive me or not—if you can escape Forbidden Demon Prison, take your revenge. But how long can you endure there? That pit swarms with brutes who hold death-grudges against you. You’re already a dead man. Ha-ha-ha-ha!”

Laughing breezily, Gye Yu left the torture room.

After some time, Neung Je-gang—blindfolded—was dragged away to somewhere unknown.