Atrios and Rozha lay sleeping on the same bed, their steady breaths the only sound in the dimly lit room. A faint creak pulled Atrios from his slumber. His eyes fluttered open, still heavy with sleep.


    A shadow stood at the foot of the bed.


    "Sakamato…?" rozha mumbled groggily, blinking away the haze.


    The man''s face was calm, his expression almost gentle. "Come on, big guy, wake up…."


    Atrios stared, uncertain. His father was smiling. Smiling for him, In the morning. It felt surreal, like a fragment of a dream slipping through his fingers.


    He glanced at the door, then back at his father.


    "What''s with that face..? Can you smell it?" Sakamoto chuckled.


    Atrios took a breath. His sense of smell had always been sharp, and now it picked up something rich. Something warm and savory, something his body recognized as food but his mind couldn''t place.


    "Is… is it for me, Father?" His voice was hesitant, as if saying it out loud might break the illusion.


    Beside him, Rozha sat up, her brows knitting together.


    Sakamoto placed a firm but reassuring hand on Atrios'' head. "Yes, my boy. Go and Eat as much as you like."


    The words settled into Atrios like sunlight piercing through a storm. He hesitated only a second longer before bolting toward the scent, driven by hunger and the fragile hope that, maybe, just maybe, this was real.


    Rozha, however, did not move.


    She stayed rooted in place, her body rigid, her sharp eyes fixed on Sakamoto.


    Then, slowly, her expression twisted.


    "…What''s this all of a sudden, you bastard?" Her voice was low, edged with something raw. "What are you planning to do to him?"


    Sakamoto exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. "Come on, woman. Can''t I be a good father for once?" His tone was light, but something about it felt… off. "I thought… I''d start treating him better. The boy isn''t at fault for anything, after all."


    Rozha''s hands clenched into fists.


    She didn''t believe him.


    She never had.


    But as long as her son will be alright she doesn''t mind.


    ---


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    A Month Later


    Atrios had changed.


    The boy who once looked like a half-starved ghost now had color in his face. His cheeks were fuller, his arms no longer fragile. He looked almost… normal.


    Almost.


    His clothes were new. His body was stronger. But his hair, long and untrimmed, framed his delicate face in a way that made him look almost too soft. Almost like a girl.


    Sakamoto ruffled his hair and chuckled, shaking his head. "You''re so full of energy these days. That''s good." He reached into his pocket and handed the boy a chocolate bar. "Here. Take this."


    Atrios took it eagerly, his fingers curling around the wrapper.


    "Thank you, Father."


    And just like that, he was gone, running off down the hall.


    Sakamoto watched him disappear. The moment the door shut behind him,


    his smile dropped.


    His fingers twitched. Slowly, he reached for his phone and dialed a number.


    A low voice answered. "Sakamoto…?"


    Sakamoto closed his eyes. Breathed in.


    "…It''s ready," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.


    A pause.


    Then a slow, drawn-out exhale from the other end of the line.


    "…Your meal."


    ---


    That evening, Atrios sat curled up on the sofa, alone at home, staring out the window.


    It seems Sakamoto took rozha with him and left artios alone at home.


    A piece of chocolate melted slowly in his mouth, but he barely tasted it.


    Something felt… off.


    Knock, knock.


    Atrios tensed.


    ''Who could that be…?''


    For a long moment, he simply sat there, his breath shallow. Then, slowly, he pushed himself up and walked toward the door.


    His small fingers wrapped around the handle.


    He turned it.


    The door swung open.


    The man standing on the other side was....


    The same bald man he saw the other day.


    Tall. Broad-shouldered. A grin stretched across his face, sharp and mean, cutting through the dim light like a blade.


    "Yo, kiddo," the man sneered. "You''re lookin'' real healthy now. Guess that useless fucker wasn''t so useless after all, huh?"


    Atrios didn''t move.


    His chest tightened, his stomach twisting into knots. His instincts screamed.


    Run. Run. Run.


    Before he could react, the man grabbed his wrist.


    Atrios jerked back, twisting, fighting, but the grip was unyielding. Cold sweat slid down his spine. His body knew...knew something was wrong.


    Something was very wrong.


    ----


    Darkness swallowed the room.


    A hollow, suffocating quiet pressed against the walls.


    The boy lay motionless on the bed, his breath shallow, his limbs trembling against the sheets. His eyes, rimmed red and swollen, stared at nothing.


    Tears had dried in streaks down his face.


    His lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.


    Near the doorway, the bald man let out a long, satisfied sigh as he straightened his clothes. He glanced back at the bed, eyes gleaming with twisted amusement.


    "Ah… It''s been a while since I felt this good," he muttered, cracking his neck. "Thought I''d get bored of that useless whore, but this? This was different."


    He crouched down, looking into Atrios'' hollow gaze.


    "don''t worry, You''ll get used to it eventually." he whispered.


    A laugh. A deep, cruel sound.


    But Atrios didn''t move.


    Didn''t react.


    Didn''t feel.


    "…M…o…m."


    ---


    Elsewhere…


    Rozha''s body convulsed against the ropes biting into her wrists.


    Her screams—raw, ragged—were muffled by the tape sealing her lips. Her entire body trembled, her throat burning, her lungs screaming for air—


    And then she saw it.


    The flickering screen.


    A grainy image.


    And just like that, something inside her shattered.


    Her breath hitched. Her vision blurred.


    No. No, no, no…


    Her body lurched forward, shaking, screaming, but there was nothing—nothing she could do—


    Behind her, Sakamoto stood in the dim light, silent.


    "Now, now, Rozha… why don''t you calm down?" His voice was soft. Empty. "I told you. There was nothing we could do."


    She choked on a sob.


    "The boss had his eyes on him for a long time," Sakamoto continued. "You knew that, didn''t you?"


    She thrashed against her bindings, her cries becoming strangled wails.


    Sakamoto sighed. His hand raked through his hair. His fingers curled into his scalp.


    Then he looked at the ceiling.


    His jaw tightened. His shoulders trembled ever so slightly.


    "…It''s not like I wanted any of this.... God damn it...."


    "....If it wasn''t for that white haired bastard..."


    Sakamoto closed his eyes, recalling the man who had forced him into this—a towering, muscular figure with a broad frame, always clad in a kimono. His long hair cascaded down his back, and his sharp, black eyes cut like a blade. He carried the presence of a samurai, yet the memory of him stirred nothing but anger and humiliation in Sakamoto.


    And it was because of him that Sakamoto’s life had spiraled into this nightmare. "Torture them, in the worst way possible... especially the kid," the white-haired man had ordered, his voice cold and indifferent. Rozha and Artios, two people he had never asked to be responsible for, yet they had been thrust into his hands like broken things meant to be shattered further. Ever since that moment, his life had unraveled. His dreams, his dignity, everything he had fought for was gone, buried beneath the weight of a command he could never refuse.


    The room filled with Silence.


    And then—


    A whisper.


    A breath.


    A quiet, broken tone—


    "Fuck."


    End of chapter 3