No More Pain For This Villain.

Chapter 373 Counting Lives

Chapter 373  Counting Lives

Alfred's words echoed in the room. My mind struggled to process what he had just said, my eyes glued to the two strangers now bathed in a new, damning light. They are the murderers of my parents.

They are the cause of my pain.

They did this.

I couldn't tear my gaze away from them. The weight of those words crushed my chest, my breath shallow and erratic. Suddenly, I felt a hand grab my right one, soft yet deliberate. Faint breathing brushed against my ear, and a sweet, hauntingly melodic voice poured in. "Choose your closure," Sasha whispered. She was behind me, her presence cold and commanding. I looked down to see what she had slid into my hand—a gun. Its surface was cold to the touch, and the sheer weight of it made my stomach churn. My grip faltered, and the weapon slipped from my fingers. **Bang!** The gun misfired, the deafening crack splitting through the room and sending a shower of plaster dust from the ceiling. My legs gave way, and I collapsed to the floor, my breaths shallow and uneven. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. I scanned my surroundings, desperate to ground myself. Everything felt surreal—mad, chaotic, like the fragments of a nightmare I couldn't wake from. The two men, chained and kneeling in the distance, squirmed. The older one was middle-aged, his short hair disheveled, his scruffy beard patchy and filthy. The younger one, thin and wiry, had a lanky face marred by the gap of a missing tooth. They were staring, not at me but behind me, their faces pale, their lips trembling as they pleaded. Their words were muffled, incoherent, but the terror in their eyes was unmistakable. Murderers.

The thought pulsed in my head like a mantra. "What? Isn't this what you want?" Alfred's cold, low voice broke through the haze, cutting sharp like a knife. "Look—nobody will know. You'll get your closure, boy." Before I could process his words, a scuffle sounded behind me. Then I felt it—two pale arms snaking around my neck, pulling me into an unsettling embrace. "Isn't it fine?" Sasha's voice purred into my ear, soft yet menacing, every word dripping with a dark allure. "You get your revenge. Everyone here knows your parents weren't bad people. These two? These guys are the villains in your story Eric,you are not doing anything bad." Her words coiled around my mind like a serpent, tempting, poisonous.

Alfred's heavy footsteps echoed as he walked away, the door creaking shut behind him. He left me with one final, cutting remark: "It's your choice, boy. Whatever you decide, it's on you." The silence that followed was suffocating, broken only by Sasha's faint hum as she bent to pick up the gun. She placed it directly in front of me, the cold steel gleaming in the dim light. Leaning down, her voice brushed against my ear, softer now, but no less venomous. "Try counting for each life you take. It helps to negate them to mere numbers—that's all they are, after all. Not humans. Just numbers." Her words lingered, heavy and sinister, before she straightened and left the room, the door closing behind her with an unsettling finality. Now it was just me and them. The older man was the first to break the silence. His voice trembled, thick with desperation. "Listen—kid—this wasn't my fault. I was just hired, okay? Nothing personal, nothing against your family. I didn't even know them!" The chains rattled as he shifted, inching closer with each plea. The younger one joined in, his voice shaky, almost pleading. "Please, kid. You don't have to do this. It wasn't us. We—we're just tools! Tools in someone else's hands. You want revenge? Go after the ones who hired us!" Their words blended into each other, becoming an incoherent mess as they spoke over one another. My head throbbed, their voices pounding against my skull like a relentless tide. The chains clinked again, louder this time. I glanced down, realizing how close they had gotten. The links were long enough to allow them to almost reach me now. Their faces began to change, twisting into grotesque caricatures of fear and guilt. Their hollow, sunken eyes seemed to pierce through me, their mouths contorting as their pleas devolved into gibberish. I couldn't breathe. Their voices layered over one another, echoing in my head, each word pulling me deeper into the chaos. 'They're not human. Just numbers.'

Sasha's voice returned like a ghostly whisper in my mind, fueling the rising storm inside me. I stared at the gun. My hands trembled as I reached for it, the cold metal biting against my skin. The room felt darker now, the air heavier, as though the walls were closing in. Their voices persisted, but they no longer made sense. Words spilled from their mouths, but they sounded hollow, disjointed, like static. I felt like I was losing my mind.

It was then I noticed the hand that was reaching for the gun infront of me.

***

Outside the room, Alfred stood motionless in front of the door, his hands clasped behind his back. The faint hum of conversation from his guards in the distance was drowned out by the tension in the air.

To his side, Sasha leaned casually against the wall, her arms crossed. Her usual air of indifference was broken by a faint, amused smile. It was rare—nothing ever truly interested her, but now, she looked as if she were watching an intriguing play unfold.

Alfred turned his cold gaze toward her. "Is it really fine to leave him in there? He still has the pen drive I need. If he breaks, that's a loss for us."

Sasha tilted her head slightly, her smile widening ever so slightly. "It's fine," she replied smoothly. "You'll get what you need. That boy just needs a little… awakening."

Before she could finish her sentence, two sharp gunshots rang out from the room, the sound reverberating through the hall like a bell tolling for the dead.

"One!"

The shout was raw, guttural, and filled with something primal.

Then, another shot.

"Two!"

Alfred raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable, while Sasha simply shrugged, pushing herself off the wall. "See?" she said nonchalantly, brushing past her father as she opened the door.

The scene inside was grim.

Eric sat in the corner, his back pressed against the wall, the gun hanging loosely from his trembling hand. His wide, terrified eyes were locked onto the bloodied corpses sprawled on the floor in front of him.

Sasha stepped closer, her confident demeanor faltering slightly as she took in his expression.

"Eric…" she began softly, her voice uncharacteristically gentle as she crouched down, reaching a hand toward him.

But before she could touch him, a low, hoarse chuckle escaped his lips. It was faint at first, like a whisper in the dark.

Then, it grew louder.

The laugh twisted and cracked, an unsettling mix of amusement and despair. Eric's body shook violently as he sprawled onto the floor, his arms wrapping tightly around himself.

Sasha froze, her hand still outstretched. It was hard to tell if he was laughing or crying as he curled into a ball, the haunting sound echoing around the room.

Alfred's voice came from the doorway, calm and detached. "It seems he's found his answer."

Sasha didn't respond, her dark eyes fixed on the broken boy before her.