؛ 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑 ── 𝘓𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘮

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝗶 ── 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥

After an agonizing death, M/N awoke engulfed in pain. His eyes, teary and bloodshot, opened to a vision smeared with crimson. There was a burning sensation in his chest as his ears rang so intensely his face grimaced.

"Fuck," he gritted out, drawing deep, ragged breaths.

Disoriented, M/N struggled to shift his position, feeling every inch of his body ache and emitting a low groan. 

M/N tried focusing his vision. He was surrounded by grimy, damp brick walls and the sound of water dripping from a presumably broken pipe.

I thought I was dead. M/N thought, recalling the haunting silhouette wielding a bloodied knife.

With calloused hands against the floor, he painstakingly pushed himself up, feeling his bones grind and crack as if his skin might tear. Blood trickled down his forehead as he fought against gravity, feeling dizzy.

His hair clung to his skin with a mixture of blood and sweat, like glue.

"I refuse to die, you bastard." Slightly delirious and fueled by spite, M/N voiced his determination, even as each huff of air made his ribs sear.

He stood up, using the wall for assistance and leaning against it. He took this time to stare down at himself. His suit jacket was gone, revealing his ruined white dress shirt. It was seeping, covered, and smeared in an absolute mess. Blood was splattered everywhere.

M/N bit his tongue as he slowly took a few steps with the wall's assistance, quickly regretting it. He should hurry before he dies from blood loss. 

Each step was shaky, his legs spasming with each stretch. It was as if he lost almost all ability to function. There might have been some type of nerve damage somewhere. 

M/N had to breathe through his mouth, noting how much blood pooled from his nose, making it impossible to breathe. It wasn't any better knowing his mouth was bloody, and tasting horrific. 

With how much blood M/N lost, it was a miracle he hadn't already died, but he did look on the verge of slipping into unconsciousness again. 

M/N could only force himself to continue, thinking about what to do once he recovers. Who can he contact? Who can he call? His powers have diminished and he no longer has a tight hold on the country. Can he truly rebuild his empire like this? 

His subordinates ratted him out like a bunch of damned hunting dogs. M/N should have kept a tighter leash on them. A leash so tight they'd be on the edge of suffocating to death.

"Dad! He's waking up! "

M/N's eyes fluttered open. His eyes were teary and watery. Did I lose consciousness again? With the amount of blood lost, he should have seen it coming, but he expected to be dead if he slipped again.