No More Pain For This Villain.

Chapter 372 Bad Dream -2

Chapter 372  Bad Dream -2

A side of my face was a bit swollen as I passed out for a while. Looking around, I found myself in the backseat of a car. The windows were covered by curtains, so I couldn't see outside, including the one blocking my view of the driver.

They beat me enough to knock me out but didn't kill me. I remembered the old guy mentioning needing something from me.

"You're awake, it seems," a feminine voice from my right said. I knew someone was there, but it turned out to be the same girl who kicked me in the chest.

She wore a short red dress that barely covered her thighs, her raven hair tied in a neat, tight bun, fixed with a few hairpins.

Her face was sharp, her lips thin, and her pitch-black eyes showed no hint of emotion.

She continued, "Eric Luster, age sixteen... nearly seventeen. A martial artist who won national championships a few months back. Proficient in more than one type of combat style, aspires to become a military officer so he can protect the people he loves, great at studying, and has a girlfriend. That's troublesome since I was thinking of having a bite of you myself."

She spoke as if she were reading my report card.

"All in all, you seem like a very ambitious and well-natured guy—far from the brutes I grew up with, at least." She chuckled, and though her voice was melodic, it ticked me off.

"Still nothing? I am Sasha," she introduced herself, but her tone and expression didn't match.

"Where are you taking me?" I questioned.

Sasha looked at me for a moment before answering, "It looks like we're going to the family house. We're almost there."

"Why?"

"Why? I don't know. If not for the fact that you hold something my father needs, you'd already be dead for disrespecting him like you did in your house," she answered.

So, that old guy was her father.

The car came to a halt, and the door swung open.

I stepped out, taking in the sight before me—a massive mansion stood in the distance, surrounded by nothing but acres of farmland stretching as far as the eye could see. Men in dark suits patrolled the area, their gazes sharp, while a line of maids moved quickly to greet Sasha.

She stepped forward; there was an air of indifference as if this grand display were nothing out of the ordinary for her.

I didn't wait.

As soon as I saw the opportunity, I turned on my heel and bolted as fast as I can.

---

The next thing I knew, I was sitting in a chair.

Every muscle in my body ached, a dull throb radiating through my arms and legs. Blood trickled down from somewhere near my temple, but I didn't bother to check. My shirt was ripped in places, and my breathing was heavy.

Across from me, the old man from earlier sat calmly, a toothpick in his hand as he cleaned his teeth. His expression was relaxed, but there was an air of authority about him that made it hard to look away.

He finally spoke, his voice gruff yet calm. "I've got to say, kid, I'm disappointed in my men. Can't believe they couldn't catch one scrawny boy."

One of the guys behind me groaned, his voice muffled by what I assumed was a broken nose. "Boss, with all due respect, that kid's a damn beast. We weren't allowed to shoot, so we had to go hand-to-hand. You think that's easy?"

Another man, equally bruised, added, "I swear he's not human. He fights like he's possessed or something. We beat him with a baseball bat, and this fucker bit me! He even tried to dislocate my elbow!"

The old man leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming against the armrest. "Excuses," he muttered, glancing over his men with disdain.

He turned his attention back to me, his cold, calculating eyes locking onto mine. "So, you're the one who's caused all this trouble. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Alfred Grey. And you've just made quite the impression."

I didn't respond. My gaze didn't waver, but I didn't let any emotion slip. Not anger, not fear. Just... nothing.

Alfred chuckled lightly, leaning forward. "You don't scare easy. That's good. Means I won't have to waste time breaking you."

He let the toothpick drop onto the table and stood. "You've got something I need, boy. Whether you like it or not, you're going to give it to me."

Something. I'm sure that whatever he wants is the same thing that got my dad killed. So, did dad care for it that much? If so, why does this motherfucker think I'd just hand it over?

Bullshit.

"Why do you think I would do that?" I asked. It wasn't a threat—I couldn't make one. I could barely stand.

"Oh, well, because I can kill you."

"Do it."

"Well, at least I tried. I've known for few hours now that threat wouldn't be enough for you." He leaned back a bit. "So, let me ask you—what do you want?"

What do I want? Isn't it simple? I want closure.

I want—I don't even know what I actually want or what closure even is.

Seeing that I wasn't saying anything, Alfred clicked his tongue. "Hot-blooded young man," he muttered before looking behind me and ordering, "Get him to stand up and take him to the cellar. I want to show him something."

One of his underlings hauled me to my feet and supported my weight as I was led into what looked like a basement.

Following Alfred, I was taken to a room. In front of me, I saw two men, bloodied and chained to the floor, each to a corner of the room.

Were they going to chain me up with these guys? Torture me?

But what I heard next wasn't what I expected.

"These are the guys that killed your parents."