Pleasure and Pain (Under Editing)

Chapter 22: The Treachery

Chapter 22: The Treachery

The cavernous underground parking garage of the Grand Majestic Hotel hummed with a low, almost subsonic thrum. The air has mixed with the scent of exhaust fumes and damp concrete, a stark contrast to the opulent luxury of the hotel above. Rows of gleaming vehicles, symbols of wealth and power, stood silently as sentinels, their polished surfaces reflecting the flickering fluorescent lights in a fractured, distorted dance. 

Mr. Yeon stood alone, a small, insignificant figure lost in the vastness of the space, his breath misting slightly in the cool air. The heavy thud of approaching footsteps echoed ominously through the concrete canyons, each footfall a hammer blow against his already fragile composure. A cold dread, icy and suffocating, gripped him. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat a physical manifestation of his terror, his eyes darting nervously toward the approaching figure. 

This is it, he thought, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. 

The only sound besides his own ragged breathing was the distant hum of the ventilation system, a mechanical drone that seemed to mock his fear.

The approaching figure stopped a few feet away, their shadow stretching long and distorted on the damp concrete floor. A voice, rich with a chilling huskiness that seemed to seep into the very marrow of his bones, cut through the oppressive silence. 

"How's your day going, Mr. Yeon?"  The casual inquiry held an undercurrent of menace that sent shivers down his spine. The words are heavy and suffocating, like the dampness clinging to the concrete walls.

Mr. Yeon remained prostrate on the cold, unforgiving floor, his forehead pressed against the polished surface of a nearby parked car. His body trembled uncontrollably; the chill of the garage seemed to have seeped into his very bones. 

"I-I did what you told me, Sir," he stammered, his voice barely a breath. "I told him about Haesoo. I was ordered to look for him and the spy in the company. I-I think he might have caught on." His words were punctuated by shuddering breaths, each gasp a testament to his fear.

A low chuckle, devoid of humor, rumbled from the shadowed figure. The sound bounced off the concrete walls, amplifying its chilling effect.

"That's interesting. He's a genius, as ever." The words were like a venomous caress, each syllable a tiny barb piercing Mr. Yeon's already frayed nerves.

The faint scent of expensive cologne, a jarring contrast to the musty smell of the garage, reached Mr. Yeon's nostrils.

Panic clawed at Mr. Yeon's throat.

"S-sir, please," he choked out, his voice cracking with desperation. "I've already done what you told me. Please don't do anything to my family. T-they were not part of any of this." Tears welled in his eyes, blurring his already limited vision. 

The flickering fluorescent lights seemed to mock his plight, casting long, distorted shadows that danced and writhed like grotesque phantoms.

The figure's voice was sharp, cutting through his pleas like a knife.

"But I'm not done yet. He's still walking free, and that's something I hate the most. He should be where he belongs – in jail." The chuckle that followed sent a fresh wave of icy terror through Mr. Yeon.

The sound echoed, bouncing off the metallic surfaces of the cars, creating a nightmarish symphony of fear.

Terror lent Mr. Yeon a desperate courage. "But, Sir, he would kill me if he found out I'm the traitor! I'm sure he would do that without any hesitation!" He jerked his head up, his eyes wide with stark fear.

His gaze darted around the vast, empty space, searching for an escape, a glimmer of hope in the oppressive darkness.

The figure, however, remained impassive. With a deliberate, almost contemptuous movement, he placed a heavy boot on Mr. Yeon's head, pressing it further into the unforgiving floor. 

"Did I allow you to look at my face?" The tone was a chilling blend of icy authority and simmering rage. The sheer weight of the boot pressed down, a physical manifestation of the crushing weight of his betrayal.

Mr. Yeon's voice was a mere whisper, choked with fear. "N-no, Sir. I apologize." His words were lost in the vastness of the garage, swallowed by the echoing silence.

"You're not done yet with your task. If I tell you you're not done, just listen to me if you don't want me to kill all of your loved ones, do you understand?" The voice was a venomous hiss, each word dripping with menace.

"Y-yes, Sir," Mr. Yeon whimpered, his body shaking uncontrollably. 

He could feel the cold, damp concrete pressing against his cheek.

"Until I take him down completely, you'll do as I say," the figure continued, his voice a low growl. "I'm afraid my itchy hands might accidentally touch something and kill someone out of nowhere."

A cruel, almost gleeful laughter echoed in the confined space, bouncing off the concrete walls and metallic surfaces of the cars.

Mr. Yeon could feel the figure's gaze, cold and predatory, even though he couldn't see his face.

"I-I understand, Sir. I-I wouldn't do that again," he stammered, his voice barely audible.

The pressure on his head finally released.

"Good. That's what I wanted to hear." A cruel amusement laced the voice. "I knew you still had a brain left in your head, so please at least try it; it would be useless if it wouldn't function properly, right?"

Humiliation burned alongside terror. He knew he couldn't fight back; his family's lives hung precariously in the balance.

"For your next task," the figure said, his voice devoid of emotion, "get me every file and evidence that proves his crimes. I'm sure he still has it in his office – mostly the company money he's spending buying gold diggers to pleasure him and random illegal things to satisfy himself." 

Mr. Yeon's voice was a desperate plea. "I-I couldn't do that, Sir; he wouldn't allow me to his office at all unless I am given his permission... He would find me suspicious if he caught me there." His voice trembled, a testament to his fear.

The figure's voice held a hint of mockery. "Then don't get caught. Easy, Mr. Yeon." The words were laced with a chilling indifference.

Mr. Yeon, desperate to avoid the inevitable, revealed a crucial detail. "He keeps them hidden in his safe, Sir. He restricted everyone who would go near his safe, and he wouldn't hesitate to torture or kill them if he saw someone near his safe, even by accident."

"That's up to you to think about it, Mr. Yeon; I'm not your advisor to give you advice about that, you know." The words were a cruel dismissal.

Mr. Yeon's voice was laced with despair. "I'm just saying he would kill me, Sir, that's just it." His words were a desperate cry for understanding, a plea that fell on deaf ears.

The figure's voice was nonchalant yet chilling. "It's up to you to decide who you want to kill you. It doesn't matter to me how you will do it, so don't you dare to betray and fail me, Mr. Yeon, you know whose life will be in danger if you try to do something against my back." A final, chilling threat.

Mr. Yeon's heart sank. He had underestimated the depravity of the man he served. Hyusuk's bloodlust had been terrifying, but this was something far worse – a calculated cruelty that chilled him to the bone.