Hidden Secrets

Chapter 19

With a diabolical grin, Yaten entered the dim cellar. The heavy creaking of the metal door echoed in the silence as he pushed it aside. A wave of euphoria surged through him as he stepped into the room where Zoisite was now captive, ready for the impending interrogation.

The cold neon lighting cast an eerie glow over the room as Yaten slowly approached the table where Zoisite, bound with sturdy leather straps, struggled desperately for freedom. "Welcome, Zoisite," Yaten whispered with a menacing calm that made the air heavy.

Zoisite continued to pull at the restraints, defiantly ignoring Yaten. An ominous glint reflected in Yaten's eyes as he coldly surveyed his victim. "You can squirm as much as you want. This room will only mean a path to death for you. The question is not if but only how long you will suffer. If you give me the answers I seek, I promise you a quick, painless end. But if you refuse..." Yaten paused and smiled darkly. "Well, then we will find out how much your body can endure. So, the first question: What did you do in America?"

Zoisite, however, remained silent, refusing to provide any answers. Instead, he spat directly into Yaten's face. A moment of silence followed before Yaten's face turned a deep shade of crimson. In an outburst of uncontrollable anger, Yaten struck Zoisite with a resounding slap.

"Wrong answer!" he hissed threateningly. "But if you want it the hard way, you're welcome to it. Your fate is in your own hands."

With determined steps, Yaten approached his shelf, containing a grim selection of tools. His finger traced gently over the carefully chosen instruments. The temptation to indulge in a bloody frenzy was in the air, but Yaten knew that the true power lay in breaking his opponent psychologically. That's why his preferences for tools had also changed; once rough implements were replaced by subtler methods that left fewer traces and minimized the likelihood of premature death. Death should only come when Yaten knew everything. Under the sharp gaze of his captive, Yaten opened a drawer and took out just a long needle.

"Okay, let me phrase my question differently. What did Chiba do during his last stay in America?" Yaten's voice was calm, almost terrifyingly composed.

Zoisite laughed derisively. "You don't seriously think I'll tell you! He'll hold you accountable when he finds out you're holding me captive here." He hadn't given up his desperate attempts to break free. Unimpressed by his captive's desperate struggles, Yaten stood calmly behind him, studying his arsenal of deadly substances. A cool smile played on his lips as he eventually reached for a vial of poison and turned back to Zoisite.

"He won't. Officially, your plane crashed a long time ago, so no one will notice you're still alive. Okay, then... let's start slowly," Yaten began, dipping the long needle into a dark vial. "I'll explain exactly what I have in mind for you. Then you can decide each time if you want to loosen your tongue or if we continue the game for a while." A sinister promise lay in his words.

Zoisite glared at Yaten with burning anger, but he continued his explanations as if he were a cool teacher imparting the grim basics of fate.

"Here, I have the venom secretion of the lionfish. That probably doesn't mean much to you, so I'll elucidate. This poison will cause intense pain. A prick on the hand, and you'll beg me to cut off your arm – which, of course, I won't do, at least not initially. While you're driven almost insane by the pain, your body will slowly begin to react to the poison: anxiety, nausea, vomiting, sweating – the usual. Probably a blister will form around the injection site, progressing to necrosis, the death of skin tissue. Often, respiratory failure can occur, but don't worry, I know how to dose it. So, I won't make it that easy for you." Yaten described the effects of the poison.

Zoisite glared angrily at Yaten, his eyes devoid of fear, only sheer determination to remain silent. With a swift, precise motion, Yaten slid the needle onto the back of Zoisite's hand. A painful cry would have been expected, but Zoisite clenched his teeth tightly together, his eyes squeezed shut in agony. No sound escaped his lips, only the grinding of his teeth and his suppressed groans filled the room.