The Ruiz Room
Yuzuha's consciousness drifted between the abyss and reality. Her eyelids fluttered, heavy as lead, and then—pain. A searing jolt exploded in her skull, spreading like wildfire through her veins. Her breath hitched.
"Where…?" Her voice cracked, dry, foreign to her own ears.
She tried to move—only to feel the weight. Cold. Unforgiving. A metallic grip suffocating her wrists, ankles, and throat. Chains. Thick, heavy, yet eerily light as if they were merely an extension of her own suffering.
Yuzuha's fingers trembled as they brushed against the shackle around her neck. A wave of dread clawed up her spine. Her heart pounded like war drums in her chest.
She turned her head.
No one.
Only her reflection.
But—why? The walls… they were not made of concrete. No brick, no exit. Only black glass, pristine and endless. Everywhere she looked, she saw herself. But her reflection… was wrong. Distorted. A cruel imitation of her own existence.
A velvet mattress lay in the center—dark, ominous, as if a monster slumbered within its folds.
The room pulsed under the suffocating embrace of dim red light, painting her world in hues of blood. Even the bathroom, a space meant for solace, was drowned in crimson luminescence.
"No… no, no, no… I can't be here. I can't—" Panic seized her throat.
The chains allowed her just enough movement to roam within the mirrored prison. The more she moved, the more her reflections multiplied, watching her. Smirking. Mocking.
Her breath came in ragged gasps.
Yuzuha pounded her fists against the mirrors, her desperation raw, violent.
"Where are you, you bastard?!" she screamed, her voice cracking. "Let me out! LET ME OUT!"
Then—
Pain.
A blinding surge of electricity ripped through her body, searing her nerves, sending her collapsing onto the cold floor. Her body convulsed, a marionette under unseen strings.
"Stay still, Yuzuha."
The voice slithered through the walls, deep and commanding.
She knew that voice.
Dametri.
He was watching.
Dametri's Torture Rooms
Dametri leaned back in his chair, watching the monitors. Yuzuha's body curled on the floor, a trembling mess of agony and rage. The Ruiz Room had already begun its work.
"A few days here, and even the strongest mind will crumble."
But this was only the beginning.
The Ruiz Room was designed for psychological collapse. Physical pain could be endured. But the mind? It was fragile. And once the mind broke, the body followed. Yuzuha was strong—physically, she was nothing to him. But mentally? She was unshakable. She had lost so much and still stood tall.
That would change.
Dametri had other rooms, each crafted for a purpose:
The Bruiz Room – The Art of Pain
A symphony of torment. The walls bled in deep blue hues, an almost serene atmosphere masking its horrors. Inside, the tools of suffering lay meticulously arranged—whips, iron rods, knives sharpened to perfection. It was here that Dametri turned pain into art, where screams were orchestrated like a masterpiece. Torture without death.
The Greiz Room – The Playground of Fear
Experimentation. No simple beatings, no mere wounds—this was where minds were studied, broken piece by piece. Victims were stripped bare, subjected to unbearable temperatures, from 55°C to -20°C, their bodies forced to endure nature's wrath. The deafening sound waves played at an inhuman frequency, driving them to madness. If they had phobias, they would be pushed into them—drowning, heights, isolation. Some died of heart attacks before Dametri could even lay a hand on them. Others, blind and deaf from the torment, became shells of their former selves.
The Wheiz Room – The Chamber of Execution
Murder was an art. And in the Wheiz Room, it was a slow, calculated process. Bones shattered one by one, veins cut meticulously to let life slip away drop by drop. Victims, untied, ran in their desperation—only to suffocate as carbon dioxide flooded the chamber. The most desperate ones bashed their own heads against the walls, preferring death by their own hands.
The Neiz Room – The Grand Finale
A combination of Bruiz and Wheiz. Here, the victims endured both torture and death. No swift ends. No mercy. The Neiz Room was reserved for those Dametri considered deserving of the cruelest punishment.
And then—there was his masterpiece.
The Special Execution
This technique was reserved for those who had truly wronged him.
A false freedom.
After days of torment, Dametri's men would drag the prisoner out, their bodies barely able to stand, their minds shattered. They would be placed on an open field, trembling, eyes darting with desperate hope.
"Run."
They would hesitate.
"Run, or we shoot."
They always ran.
Panting, stumbling, their bodies broken yet moving on pure instinct. And then—
Boom.
The ground beneath them collapsed, revealing a pit of explosives. The blast would rip through their fragile forms, tearing them apart before they even understood what had happened.
They died believing they had a chance.
And that, to Dametri, was the ultimate cruelty.
Yuzuha trembled on the floor, her breaths shallow, her body weak from the electric shock. The red light flickered, her own reflection staring back at her, broken and desperate.
Then—movement.
One of the mirrors slid open, revealing a dark silhouette.
A man stepped inside.
Tall. Refined. A presence that oozed control, like a god stepping into his domain.
Dametri.
His lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk.
"Do you miss me, Yuzuha?"
His voice was silk, smooth and laced with venom.
Yuzuha's body stiffened. Her hatred burned beneath her skin, but her mind—her mind screamed.
This was only the beginning.