As the sun's rays touched my disoriented eyes, I tried to gauge how much time had passed since I lost consciousness. When I finally managed to focus, I found myself staring at a crowd of people surrounding me. They were all dressed in old-style clothes, reminiscent of a bygone era I might have seen in some museum. Their expressions ranged from horrified to shocked, as they fixated their eyes on me.

Women covered their mouths with their hands, their eyes wide with fear and disbelief, while the men appeared equally stunned, their faces etched with concern. It was as though they had stumbled upon a scene straight out of a nightmare, witnessing something beyond their comprehension.

I must look like a deadman. I chuckled at my own sorry state. Those men really did a number on me.

As my mind struggled to grasp the surreal situation, I wondered where I was and who these people were. Had I been rescued from the torment I endured earlier? Or had I unknowingly entered another twisted reality altogether?

“I… H…” I tried to speak, hoping to inquire about my whereabouts, but my lips refused to cooperate, realizing they were bound by a cloth, which I had been biting in my pain. My hands instinctively moved to remove the cloth, but as soon as I tried, searing pain shot through my body, reminding me of the torture I had endured.

The only part of my body I could somewhat move was my head. I looked around, and to my horror, I found myself tied to a tree, completely naked. My family jewels, along with the bloodied wounds from the earlier torment, were exposed for all the onlookers to see.

Those bastards. Anger coursing through my veins and with all the strength I could muster, I tried to shield myself with my legs, attempting to protect some semblance of dignity, but they were too weak to move. So, I lay there, feeling utterly vulnerable and helplessly exposed.

The crowd of people stood around me, their gazes a mix of shock, pity, and disgust. Some covered their eyes, unable to bear the sight of my suffering, while others seemed unable to tear their eyes away, their curiosity seemingly outweighing any sense of decency.

In that moment, I felt like a mere spectacle, stripped of all dignity and humanity, reduced to nothing more than a broken, defenseless soul. Yet, within the depths of my agony, a fierce fire of vengeance burned. Whoever those people were, they had gone too far, and I swore to myself that letting me go alive would be their biggest mistake. I would find them, no matter the cost, and break them.

I will make them feel what cruelty really is. I swore to myself.

"Move!" a commanding voice roared, breaking through the eerie silence. The sound of approaching hooves reverberated, growing louder by the moment. Soon, a group of men dressed in black shirts and white pants, each carrying a sword on their waist, arrived on horseback. They leaped from their steeds and rushed towards me as the crowd parted, creating a path for them to reach me.

My heart pounded with a mixture of relief and fear. Who were these new arrivals? Were they allies or a different threat altogether? I desperately hoped they were here to rescue me from my tormentors, but I couldn't be sure. My body ached, and my mind was still reeling from the ordeal I had endured.

As the men surrounded me, their expressions were stern, and their gazes assessed the scene with intensity. The air crackled with tension as they faced the crowd that had witnessed my suffering. For a moment, the world seemed frozen, waiting to see what these newcomers would do next.

To my surprise, the group of men calmly dispersed the onlookers, their authoritative presence commanding respect. One of them swiftly approached me, drawing a sharp blade to cut my bonds and free my hands. As the restraints fell away, I felt a wave of relief washing over me.

With skilled hands, another member of the group gently removed the fabric that had been covering my mouth, granting me the freedom to finally take a full breath.

"Tha…nk… you." I managed.

Though the pain still lingered, the act of being freed from my restraints and the cloth that had muffled my voice offered a glimmer of hope. These newcomers seemed to be on my side, and their actions suggested that they were here to rescue me from this nightmare.

As I glanced around, I saw the crowd had dispersed, and now, only the group of men in black shirts remained. Their stern expressions softened slightly as they ensured my safety. Soon, a carriage adorned with black and golden colors arrived at the scene. The men swiftly covered my trembling form in a shawl, their gentle touch contrasting with the brutality I had endured moments ago.

With utmost care, they lifted my weakened body and assisted me to board the carriage. As I lay on the long seat, my senses still reeling from the pain and trauma, I found myself under the watchful gaze of an old man. His eyes held a mix of concern and wisdom, offering a small measure of comfort amid the chaos.

The carriage sped off; its direction unknown to me. I had been thrust into a new chapter of my life, guided by these enigmatic men in black. I had no choice but to trust that they were taking me to safety, away from the horrors I had endured.

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Few minutes later, though it felt like hours, the carriage came to a gradual halt. My senses were still dulled from the ordeal, and I could make out weak shouts and movements outside, but I was too weak to react or fully comprehend my surroundings. The pain in my hands had only intensified, threatening to push me into unconsciousness at any moment.

The old man exited the carriage first, and then two other men with well-ironed three-piece suits entered. They handled me with care, gently lifting me out of the carriage and placing me on a soft stretcher. I was now encircled by more men, each seemingly focused on my well-being.

"Where… are you taking me…?" I uttered against my strained throat, only to meet with silence.

My body felt heavy, and my mind was a whirlwind of pain and confusion. I tried to gather my thoughts, to piece together what had transpired, but everything was a blur. The men who had rescued me remained a mystery, and the purpose of their actions eluded me.

The stretcher was immediately lifted, and I was ushered inside what seemed like an enormous dome with a high ceiling that my weakened eyes could not reach; they were losing sight anyway. The interior was filled with echoes of cries, this time more painful and filled with genuine worry. I could sense the concern of those around me as they reached out to me.

As the stretcher swayed slowly, I felt myself slipping back into a state of semi-consciousness. The world around me became a distant haze, and my mind was consumed by a heavy fog of pain and exhaustion. The gentle movement of the stretcher and the muffled sounds of voices blended together, lulling me into a semblance of comfort.

In that moment, I was at the mercy of those who had saved me. The men in suits and the old man with wisdom in his eyes were my only anchors in this confusing reality. Where were they taking me? What lay ahead in this vast dome that I could not fully comprehend?

As my mind drifted back to sleep, the answers remained elusive, and I could only surrender to the unknown, trusting that these men had my best interests at heart. For now, all I could do was rest, hoping that clarity and strength would return to me when the time was right.

***

I didn't know how many hours or days had passed since the men in black brought me into this dome, which had transformed into an opulent and extravagant room. Time seemed to blur in my disoriented state, but as I opened my eyes again, I felt a glimmer of improvement in my condition.

The pain that had consumed me earlier had dulled slightly, and my mind was less clouded. The unfamiliar surroundings still left me bewildered, but I was now more aware. The room was adorned with lavish furnishings and intricate decorations, giving an air of grandeur and sophistication.

As I lay there on the soft bed, the realization that someone had taken care of my injuries washed over me. My hands, once mangled and bloodied, were now meticulously bandaged, providing a soothing relief from the excruciating torment I had endured. The pain had dulled, but the memories of the ordeal still haunted me, making me wary of the uncertainty that loomed ahead.

"Where am I?" I muttered aloud.

The men in suits and the old man with the wise eyes were nowhere to be seen. I found myself alone, unshackled, and unwatched. It was an unexpected freedom that left me both grateful and apprehensive. Why had they treated me with such care and left me unattended? Perhaps they believed I was in no condition to escape, or they were simply naive and good-hearted individuals.

Regardless, I can't let my guard down. I needed to stay vigilant and alert.

Despite the relative comfort of the luxurious room, the questions remained unanswered. Who were these people? What was their purpose in bringing me here? Was I still to be interrogated even after being tended to and cared for?

The mystery surrounding their actions only fueled my determination to find answers. Just as I was about to push myself up on the bed, the large wooden doors in the distance creaked open, drawing my attention. A fair girl, probably in her early twenties, entered the room. She was dressed in a maid uniform and carried cleaning equipment in her hands.

Our eyes met, and she flinched back momentarily. "Lord! You are awake," she mumbled with a smile, her emerald eyes glistening with relief. Her reaction puzzled me; it was as if she knew me, but I had no recollection of ever meeting her before.

"Lord! Who is that?" I asked, my voice still raspy and sounding strangely different.

The maid stepped towards me; her expression one of pure joy. "I am so glad you are fine," she said.

"Yes, but you didn't…" I trailed off, suddenly becoming aware of the peculiar quality of my voice. It sounded much lighter and younger than I remembered. I coughed, attempting to clear any obstruction in my throat, but to no avail. It was as if something had fundamentally changed in my vocal cords. How had I not noticed this until now?

The maid looked concerned, her eyes studying me intently. "My lord, are you feeling alright? Should I get you some water?"

"I… I don't know," I replied, still trying to comprehend the oddity of my voice. "Something feels off. Is there something wrong with my throat?"

She hurriedly brought a glass of water, and thanks to my disability, helped me drink it. I took a few sips, hoping it would help, but the peculiar sound of my voice remained unchanged. It was as if I had been given a different voice altogether, one that did not belong to me.

"I don't understand," I said, my confusion evident. "Why do I sound like this? What happened to me?"

The maid's reply was hesitant, and she wore a sheepish smile. "You... you look fine, my lord," she stammered. "I should go get the physician..." She slowly began stepping back.

Ignoring her for the moment, I focused on myself, my throat in particular. Did they really replace my vocal cords in exchange for their hospitality? The thought seemed preposterous, but I couldn't shake it off. Why would they go to such an extreme extent? I needed to check my neck to be sure if any marks or stitches were left behind from such a procedure.

As the maid was about to open the door, I called out to her. "Can you... get me a mirror?" I asked, hoping to see my reflection and gather some clues from my own appearance. Her respect for me could be an advantage in this moment of uncertainty.

The girl nodded, understanding the gravity of my request, and hurriedly fetched a small mirror from one of the many cabinets spread throughout the room. She held it before me, and as I got a good look at myself, there was only one word that escaped my lips.

"Fuck!"