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“URRGGHH…!” Euphemia threw up bitter gastric juices.
How many times have I thrown up now?
The polished washbasin in the beautiful marble bathroom was stained and dirtied with vomit. Automatic sensors responded with a stream of water that washed the vomit down the drain in a swirl.
“Nggh…haaah…”
Her stomach painfully contracted even though she shouldn’t have anything left to throw up. Sweat beaded her face. Several droplets trickled down her chin onto the cold floor. She couldn’t stop gasping for air. Nor could she bring herself to look in the mirror. She was keenly aware of the man filming her from behind. She’d rather die than let him capture the look on her face right now.
From what Euphemia could tell, about one whole day had elapsed since she was abducted. She couldn’t be sure because there weren’t any clocks in this room and all the windows were shuttered.
Haydn said it was around four in the morning when she first woke up in his suite.
Clearly he had transported her somewhere after she fell asleep and she had no idea where she was now. At the very least, she could guess it wasn’t in the same building as his TV station where he had treated her to dinner. It was too loud there for the sheer lack of noise now. But without looking outside, she didn’t know whether this was somewhere within Romanesque City or not.
Almost half a day has gone by since I woke up. So it has to be around evening time, Euphemia deduced.
Ever since she woke up she had been forced to watch Haydn’s cherished collection of videos in this creepy room. Each video captured horrifying atrocities such as people being pushed into a cage full of starving Bijours or women being raped by several men at once. This was the collection Haydn so desperately wanted her to view. His hobby.
Haydn grabbed her by the back of the head and forced her to watch his sick videos. She wasn’t allowed to close her eyes or look away. Whenever she tried to, he whispered in her ear, “Don’t you care what will happen to Ronaldo?” He threatened to give him the same fate as the young men fed to Muta in his precious videos.
The only thing he allowed her to do was run to the bathroom and throw up once it became too much. Haydn ecstatically filmed her throwing up with his camcorder. That was the only moment she had away from the monitors.
“Are you finished?” he asked in that coaxing, velvety voice of his.
Every time she heard it, Euphemia had the urge to throw up. She glared over her shoulder at the man filming her as she clung to the washbasin.
“Ooh…excellent. Your gemlike eyes moistening with anguish and hate is exquisite. Seeing you bite your lips until they bleed…gives me chills and a thrill I just can’t find anywhere else. Come on out. I have much more to show you.”
Haydn looked down at Euphemia, who glared hatefully up at him, and smiled like a good-natured old man might. He gave her trembling back a gentle push, hurrying her back into the luxurious viewing room to show her the next video. The room remained dark with only the square light coming from the TVs to illuminate it.
Haydn guided her down into a plush, leather easy chair.
“How…how could you do something so cruel?” Euphemia hissed while he filled a cup with high-grade liquor within reach of her.
“Hm? I haven’t done a single thing. These are merely films I have collected. I wasn’t involved in their making. This is simply my private collection to enjoy during my personal time.”
“Liar! You made those people do these horrible things to others! Some of the people being run over by trucks and torn to shreds by Muta were screaming your name!” Euphemia shouted despite her burning throat.
“What they scream has nothing to do with me. Look…a young boy is the star of this one. He has such long and pretty limbs. Aren’t you hot with anticipation wondering what will happen to him?”
“…Stop it…just stop it! I’ve had enough. I’m going to lose my mind if I see anymore!” Euphemia covered her ears and shoved her face between her legs.
Haydn yanked her back into a viewing position by the hair.
“That’s a lofty opinion coming from the filthy woman who gave her body over to that Beast Blood mongrel,” Haydn spat before his attention went back to the screens. “Oh, look, look. The boy is about to be violated by that big man. Can you tell that the boy is a young Beast Blood? See, his eyes are glowing.”
The camera zoomed in on the boy’s wide, terrified eyes. Faint light radiated from his irises. He looked around seven or eight in human years. Brutish men surrounded him. Beast Bloods possessed physical prowess leaps beyond humans, but he was still just a small child. He stood no chance against several adult men.
The boy screamed something at the screen. But there was no sound. Around half of the videos Haydn forced her to watch were soundless. This sociopath said he liked to enjoy their terrified expressions without it being contaminated by sound. True enough, their muted fear burned into the mind.
“We captured this youngling while he was roaming the Sea of Trees. He was used to create several titillating videos,” Haydn said without an ounce of guilt.
Euphemia was frightened by his casual use of the past tense. She didn’t want to think of what his fate was in the end.
“You’re sick. I don’t want to watch anymore of this crap with you…” Euphemia hissed between gritted teeth. She wrenched her body away, not caring that he had a fistful of her hair clenched in his hand. For a small man, Haydn had a strong grip.
“Hahaha… You will become docile soon enough… And once you do, I will produce and direct the best film for you to star in. Aahh, how I look forward to it,” Haydn said, tossing Euphemia onto the floor when she bit his hand.
Euphemia braced herself as she hit the ground and glared up at him. From the floor she saw Haydn’s black pants growing taut in the crotch area. He was being turned on. The cruel fate of the victims in his videos aroused the sick bastard. However, oddly enough, he didn’t once touch Euphemia in a sexual manner or even suggest it.
“What are you staring at?” Haydn followed her gaze to his nether region. “Oh, I see. Are you getting aroused as well and want me to embrace you now?”
Euphemia averted her gaze from his sickeningly stick smile.
“Unfortunately for you, I don’t possess the vulgar hobby of rubbing bodies with women,” he continued with a chuckle. “Thrusting a piece of my body into another is nothing but repugnant. Women can’t satiate me. But I suppose…if you become the splendid heroine from my marvelous script and show me that expression that has captivated me so…I might finally be satisfied.”
“…What?”
“You tried to take your own life before you could be raped by those punks in the pitch-dark Wilds. Your eyes in that very moment had overcome fear and reached utopia. I’ve never seen such heavenly emerald… Ahh, it’s so thrilling…! Ahhn!”
Haydn suddenly threw his head back, leaned into the chair, and convulsed. At first Euphemia thought he had a stroke, but that wasn’t it. A wet stain slowly seeped through the nether region of his suit.
“Aaaah! Just reimagining it does this to me… After watching it so many times, it has practically become a piece of me.”
Euphemia’s gut churned. She bent over to throw up again, but nothing came out.
“I actually wanted to get my hands on you sooner, Euphemia.”
“Then you’re the one sent those Vermi—”
“No. That was an honest coincidence.”
That was the day Euphemia had become so enthralled by the Night Blooms, she drove down the freeway in the dead of night. The same day she met her strong and beautiful Beast Blood.
“Those Vermi planned to feed a young woman to the Bijour, but you becoming their target was a miracle.”
This man calls that night a miracle?
It wasn’t the Vermi who planned to attack a young woman, but this man who ordered them to do it. Euphemia just so happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. But, to her, meeting Zelaide really was miraculous.
Tears stung the back of her eyes as she thought back on the day he saved her. Am I a horrible, unscrupulous woman for being even slightly grateful to this man for making that encounter possible? She bit the inside of her cheek.
“And then…that foul Beast Blood had to ruin it…” Haydn grimaced as if he knew what Euphemia was thinking. His brows snapped together with irritation, erasing his prior euphoria. “Filthy beast… You already allowed yourself to be defiled by that dirty animal… No way you haven’t after how hard you tried to entice him in the breeding room…”
Haydn looked with disgust upon Euphemia on the floor.
“W-Was it you? You learned about Zelaide and me and used his sperm to…”
Was he the coward who cruelly murdered Manuela and framed Zelaide for it?
“No. Shank’s the one who did that,” Haydn answered with amusement.
Euphemia had no idea what was so amusing.
“Who’s Shank?”
That was the name confessed by the man Zelaide strung up the night he saved her.
“Shank is…”
“My other name.”
The large door suddenly opened. A slender man stood in the doorway.
“Good grief. You finally made it. You are always such a handful.” Haydn shrugged and shook his head.
Euphemia couldn’t make out the newcomer’s face because it was bright behind him. But his silhouette and tempered voice belonged to someone she knew well.
“Y-You… You’re…” Euphemia strained her eyes as she clamored to her feet.
Impossible. It can’t be. This can’t be happening.
“Why…?”
I don’t believe it. I don’t believe it. I can’t…
The shadowed figure sighed.
“…I warned you so many times… You wouldn’t be here if you had listened. I’m sorry, but you will have to play your role until the end now, Euphemia Ashencourt.”
Her voice was heavy with despair as she gasped out, “Director Burhardt…”