Brothel Manager : Unexpected Encounter with A Hidden Family Heirloom

In the palace hall, Luis's blood stained face is shaking with fear. His focus is blurring as he stared at the fallen bodies of his security. Das leaned back on the glass table opposite to Luis. A black rock sabre lay silently in his hand waiting to be unleashed.

"You won't dare to kill me!" Luis stammered, desperation clawing at his voice as he sat rigidly in the chair, his youthful arrogance a distant memory now, replaced by tangible fear that poured from every pore, making him pitifully small in the grandiose hall.

The palpable aura of richness and opulence could no longer shield him from the reality of the cold blade that spelled danger, that threatened to carve into flesh and bone.

Das continued to stare at Luis Amusingly as the saber danced in his hands.

"You must know my family will annihilate everything you hold dear, everything related to you will be crushed mercilessly," Luis continued, his voice breaking, tears welling up in his eyes as he tried to invoke the power and rage of the Aries family, a plea disguised as a threat, desperate to claw back some semblance of control in the face of Das's unwavering resolve.

Das laughed loudly, a sound that echoed through the grand hall, bouncing off the rich tapestries and intricate carvings that adorned the walls. It was a laugh that held no mirth, only a chilling acknowledgment of the absurdity of Luis's words, the undeniable proof of his naivete.

"Hmmhh… how foolish you sound, young master of the prestigious Aries family," Das said, his voice dripping with contempt as he swung the saber nonchalantly, the blade catching the ambient light and casting strange patterns on the walls, a dance of shadows and light.

"If I wanted to kill you, don't you think I would have already done it? Hahaha…, Luis, your life holds far more value alive...

for now," Das continued, his voice a hypnotic cadence of danger and promise, as he moved closer, the blade singing a song of forewarning as it sliced through the air, the sound a harsh contrast to the lavish surroundings, a reminder of the brutality that lurked beneath the gilded surface.

The room seemed to shrink as Das approached, the tension building with each step, a crescendo of fear and anticipation that stifled any words Luis might have uttered, the young master's face a canvas of horror, his eyes wide and unblinking as if trying to wake from a nightmarish dream.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Das placed the blade on the top of Luis's head, the cold metal a terrifying promise of agony as it touched the trembling flesh.

Luis could feel every inch of the sharp, unforgiving steel, his breath coming in shallow gasps, every instinct screaming to flee, to fight, but his body betrayed him, frozen in place as Das spoke, his voice a chilling whisper that clawed into Luis's mind, embedding fear deeper with each word.

"Consider this a warning, Luis. A lesson you should etch deep into your soul. This is a small punishment for approaching my woman." Das said, his face hard, his eyes a furnace of anger and determination as he pressed the blade slightly, breaking the skin, a symbolic penetration of the naive shield that Luis lived behind, a cruel introduction to the brutal realities of power and consequence.@@novelbin@@

And then, with a sudden release of pressure, the heavy blade fell, guided by gravity and the fierce will of Das as it carved a path along the right side of Luis's head, a gruesome act of violation as it sheared through skin and hair, exposing the raw, vulnerable flesh beneath, a bloody testament to the consequence of arrogance and ignorance.

"Ahhhh!"

Luis's scream pierced the heavy silence, a symphony of agony and despair as the pain exploded in his nerve endings, a fire of torment that consumed his being, leaving him shaking and sobbing, his hands instinctively reaching up to cradle the violated flesh, his fingers coming away wet with blood, a stark contrast to the pure, opulent surroundings that bore witness to his degradation.

"This is the price of your ignorance," Das said, his voice cold and unyielding, the fierce glint in his eyes reflecting the bloody artwork he created, a living canvas of pain and humiliation, a tragic masterpiece that bore the signature of vengeance, a brutal punctuation to a lesson imparted through steel and suffering.

As Luis's agonised cries filled the room, echoing in the grand hall, a chilling reminder of the line that had been crossed, Das stepped away, the blade dripping with crimson evidence of his actions, a cruel instrument of education in his hands, a stern teacher imparting a lesson that Luis would carry with him, a scar of wisdom carved into flesh, a brutal education in the harsh realities of power, betrayal, and consequence.

"Shh, young master, no tears now," Das cooed, his voice dripping with venomous sweetness as he leaned closer, the saber in his hand moving with an artist's precision. Luis could feel the cold rock kissing his flesh, carving an indelible mark on his forehead with meticulous strokes.

The sharp edge skated across sensitive skin with cruel deliberation, a relentless artist inscribing his canvas with a grotesque vision borne of vengeance and rage.

Each motion of the blade was a symphony of anguish, a choir of screams trapped in Luis's throat, a sacrilege of pain rendered in bloody lines and curves.

The name ""Farus"" began to take shape, a wicked testament to Das's power, a physical manifestation of the grotesque bond that now united them in this dance of despair and dominance.

Luis's mind was a whirlpool of agony, a tempestuous sea of panic and pain, his self-preservation clashing violently with the instinct to fight, to resist. But every glint of rebellion, every spark of defiance was met with a cold, calculated warning, a frigid reminder from Das that resistance would come at the price of his fingers, possibly more.

From her vantage point, through her sniper scope, Red Rose witnessed a transformation most tile, a morphing of man into devil, the crimson glow in Das's eyes serving as the chilling beacon of his descent into savagery.

A moment of sick realisation settled in her, a comprehension of the depths of Das's fury and the lengths he was willing to go to protect what was his. He was not just a man; he was a force of nature, a tempest of rage and retribution unyielding in his pursuit of vengeance, a maestro of pain orchestrating a grand symphony of suffering.

In the frozen seconds that followed, Luis could barely comprehend the figure standing over him, an entity cloaked in malevolence, eyes burning with a fierce, red glow, a demon descended upon the earth to exact his pound of flesh.

The pain was excruciating, an ever-present entity feasting upon his flesh, yet behind the torrent of agony, a primitive part of him recognised the merciless authority emanating from Das, a power that eclipsed his family's status, wealth, and influence.

As he lay there, broken and branded, a pitiful wail escaped Luis, a sound devoid of any human semblance, a raw cry of a beast trapped in a corner, the very embodiment of pain and humiliation.

After taking a final look at Luis, Das placed the rock saber on the glass table and took out his mobile phone. He first took a picture of Luis and called Sana.

"Bring the guests. The gift is ready." Das said while staring at Luis who is looking back at him with a confused face as he did not understand the meaning behind Das words.

Luis's body shook violently, a whimpering heap of flesh as he desperately tried to process the horrifying situation unfolding before him. Each heartbeat echoed loudly in his ears, a deafening reminder of his vulnerability, his helplessness as he hung precariously on the line between life and death.

He could barely muster the strength to speak, but the fear – a primal, gnawing dread – forced words out of his trembling lips, each syllable carrying a desperation that was all-consuming.

"Das, think once again. My sister won't leave you. Why don't you leave me now. I might forgive your action. Let the bygones be bygones." Luis's words were barely coherent, broken and frail, like him. The air seemed to thicken with his pleas, each word charged with the kind of despair only found in men with nothing left to lose.

"Are you still in the position to negotiate with me?" Das's response came quick and unforgiving, a sneer decorating his handsome features as he entertained Luis's desperate bargain with disdain. His laugh bore no humour, only a cold acknowledgment of the power he wielded in this moment, a chilling affirmation of the young master's dreadful reality.

A feeling of utter hopelessness pervaded as Luis's eyes met Das's. His pleas met with laughter, a sound that twisted the knife deeper into his already shattered spirit. The grandeur of the hall, once a symbol of luxury and power, now felt like a mocking backdrop to his disgrace. The gleaming surfaces reflected a distorted version of himself, branded and broken under Das's vengeful hand.

Crrek***

As the grand hall's doors creaked open, revealing more faces to bear witness to his humiliation, Luis could do nothing but shudder under the weight of the Farus family people eyes upon him.

His body seemed to fold into itself, a futile attempt to escape the merciless gaze of the onlookers brought in to witness the vivid painting of pain and vengeance, a living testament to the terrifying power of Das's wrath.

It was a humiliating stage set by Das, one where Luis played the pitiable lead, a man forcibly stripped of his dignity, power, and now, in the face of an audience, his very humanity.

"Das, what is this blood shit?! Who is this beggar?" Latha asked in a hurried tone as he stared at the bloody hall.

_

"Revenge is a dish best served cold, a chilling reminder that every action has its consequence, and every betrayal its price."

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