Alex felt the pressure of biting and clawing stop for a moment. He sobbed in relief, his breath ragged, his swollen eyes watching as the men backed away slightly, seemingly confused. A small flicker of relief might have sparked in his heart, thinking the torture was over.

But it was only a pause before a more terrifying storm.

I watched closely. The change wasn't overly dramatic, but it was clear.

The men stopped gnawing on Alex's flesh. Instead, their bodies began to grow restless. Their breathing, which had been heavy with the urge to consume, now shifted to a different kind of panting. Their faces began to flush from a sudden internal heat.

They tore at their own clothes. Within seconds, the seven men stood naked around Alex, their bodies smeared with blood and sweat.

Alex looked around with an expression slowly filling with a new horror—a horror even deeper than the fear of being eaten alive.

A premonition whispered of something far, far worse. His blood and tear-filled eyes shifted to me, and there he saw not mercy, but the cold expression of a spectator waiting for the show to begin.

My gaze shattered him completely. He realized the hell he was experiencing hadn't yet reached its deepest pit.

Then, Alex saw it. Among the naked, standing bodies, their "weapons" were raised, tense and hard, pointing at him like compass needles drawn to the pole of his suffering.

"A-Adam... don't..." he whispered, his voice hoarse and hollow.

But it was too late. They needed no orders. A completely new instinct, triggered by the deadly mix of elixir and ring, had taken over.

One of them stepped closer. His rough, calloused hands grabbed Alex's half-naked hips, easily flipping his broken body over. Alex screamed, more from terrible anticipation than physical pain alone.

Then, with a brutal thrust and without any preparation, the gardener drove into Alex from behind.

"NGHAAAAAAAAKKKHHHHHHH—!!!"

Alex screamed louder than ever. A mixture of immense physical pain, unimaginable violation, and absolute mental destruction. His voice broke, sounding more like the death groan of an animal.

That was just the beginning. The others, seeing that first act as a green light, swarmed in. Rough hands grabbed other parts of Alex's body, forcing him open, entering.

The grand living room echoed with the sounds of brutal bodies, groans of agony, and wordless grunts from the men who had lost their minds. They didn't speak, only snorted, growled, like mating animals.

I watched for a few long seconds. At first, there was satisfaction in seeing Alex's suffering reach a new level.

But then, another feeling crept in.

Disgust. A deep, sudden disgust. The sight of seven men crawling like insects over the shattered body, satisfying their most basic urges in a scene of barbaric gang rape... it was too much. Even for me.

"Damn it," I cursed silently. "My pure eyes have been defiled by something this vile."

I turned my face away, staring toward the window.

Yet Alex's unending screams, the ragged breathing of the men, and the sick, wet sounds still forced their way into my ears.

At the edge of my vision, just as I was about to leave, I saw Alex. His head was twisted to the side, his eyes nearly hollow as they stared at me. In that gaze, there was no hope left, not even raw fear. Only madness remained. A madness born from suffering that had gone far beyond what a human mind could endure.

That was enough. My stomach truly churned now.

I turned and walked out of the living room, leaving the space and all its terror and filth behind. I slammed the door shut, trying to block out the sounds, and moved down the dark corridor of the mansion, struggling to erase the images I had just witnessed from my mind.

I needed fresh air.

I needed to cleanse my eyes of that stain.

.

.

.

More than three hours had passed. I estimated the effects of the intense but temporary [Aphrodisiac Elixir] should have worn off by now. With a mix of morbid curiosity and lingering disgust, I made my way back to the Rutherford mansion's living room.

The first thing to hit me was the smell—a horrific stench of blood, sweat, semen, and human waste. I held my breath for a moment as my eyes adjusted to the revolting scene.

Six of the seven men lay unconscious on the floor, their naked bodies in a pitiful state. The seventh was still moving faintly. His body rose and fell over Alex's motionless form, performing a few final, weak thrusts before he too finally collapsed to the side, falling still.

Then, there was Alex.

He was alive. His breaths were short and shallow, but they were there.

What surprised me was that he was still conscious. His eyes were open, staring at the ceiling. But there was nothing in them. No terror, no tears, no despair. Only total emptiness. A void more frightening than any hysterical sobbing.

His battered body, covered in bite marks, bruises, and unmentionable fluids, lay limp. It was no wonder he was still conscious; the perpetrators were mostly ordinary men, and even the Rank C security guard had finally exhausted himself to the point of passing out.

As my footsteps echoed, Alex's vacant eyes shifted ever so slowly, searching for the source of the sound.

Once they landed on me, something akin to an emotion flashed through them—pure, instinctual fear. His ruined body twitched, trying to crawl backward, but all he could manage was a feeble squirm in the puddle of his own filth.

"Ghh... d-d... don't..." A hoarse rasp escaped his swollen, toothless mouth, trying to form the word 'don't,' but failing utterly. He sounded like a mortally wounded animal. His mind had been shattered to pieces, wiped clean by unimaginable trauma.

I stepped closer, my face contorted in disgust at the sight. The foul odor grew sharper. Alex squirmed again, letting out a muffled groan of fear.

I reached for his hand, which still wore [The Fleshcraver's Loop]. The ring felt warm and pulsed faintly. I pulled it off his finger. He flinched slightly. I stored the ring back in my inventory, making it vanish from sight.

I looked at Alex one last time. A thin, cold, deeply satisfied smile finally touched my lips.

There was nothing left to say. Nothing more to do here.

I turned and left him amidst the ruins of his former life. Before exiting the silent, tomb-like house, I equipped the [Faceless Mask] and with a thought, shifted my face to that of an ordinary, nondescript deliveryman.

Outside, the fresh night air greeted me. I took a deep breath, cleansing my lungs of the stench of death and violence.

The night sky stretched wide above, dotted with cold, indifferent stars that twinkled over the horrific drama that had just unfolded below.

And then, something inside me broke loose.

Laughter.

First a huff, then a giggle, finally erupting into long, loud, uncontrollable laughter. I laughed like a madman, standing in the middle of the quiet road before the mansion that housed a hell.

"Ha... hahahahaha! AHAHAHAHAHA!"

Every laugh was a release. The memories of Alex ordering me to lick his shoes, kicking my head, laughing as I curled up in pain—they were all paid in full. Repaid with a ruin far deeper, far more total, than he could have ever imagined.

As the laughter subsided, leaving behind an incredible sense of relief and slight exhaustion through my entire body, I drew one last long breath.

'I need to refresh myself,' I thought, gazing at the stars.

That disgusting scene in the house needed to be scrubbed from my mind. I needed something... pleasant. Something to restore balance, and remind me of the other pleasures this world had to offer.

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