Chương 20: Chapter 20: Respect

Chapter 20: Respect

"R-respect? Why?"

Demitas seized the opportunity, carefully choosing his words to further manipulate the situation. He maintained a humble yet earnest expression, ensuring his sincerity was evident.

"It's because of your diligent work!" Demitas confidently affirmed, reinforcing the torturer's self-importance. He watched as the man's chest puffed up with pride, clearly susceptible to flattery.

The torturer, attempting to maintain a semblance of humility, waved off Demitas' words. "Ahem, no, no, that's nothing much. What are you even talking about?" he replied, his voice betraying his pleasure at being acknowledged.

Demitas knew he had discovered the torturer's weakness – a susceptibility to praise and recognition. It became evident to him after closely observing the man for a few days. He realized that by appealing to the torturer's inflated ego, he could easily manipulate him to his advantage.

Capitalizing on the moment, Demitas continued to shower the torturer with compliments, carefully selecting words that stoked his vanity. The torturer's friends would take things from him while praising him and he wouldn't even mind it!

"Yes sir! No, out of respect, I want to call you uncle," Demitas replied with sincerity in his voice.

In the social hierarchy, the title of "sir" typically denoted a formal and respectful address for someone who was perceived as a foreigner or a stranger. It represented a level of courteous acknowledgment but maintained a certain distance between individuals.

On the other hand, the designations of "brother," "uncle," or "father" carried deeper meanings and held a significant place within interpersonal relationships. These terms were reserved for individuals who were considered close, akin to family members or esteemed role models. They denoted a bond of familiarity, trust, and admiration.

"Hahaha, no, that is too much," the man chuckled, scratching his head in slight embarrassment.

Demitas, seizing the opportunity, grimaced as if his legs were in pain, letting out a pained sound.

"Ack."

The torturer, who was easily swayed by praises, turned his attention to Demitas and his feet, feeling a pang of guilt for the injuries he had inflicted. Demitas continued to act as if he was in discomfort, clutching his injured legs. He knew that playing on the torturer's guilt could potentially work in his favor, opening up an opportunity to manipulate the situation to his advantage.

Of course, as a torturer, he had grown accustomed to inflicting pain without giving it much thought. It was merely a job for him, a means to an end. But now, faced with the consequences of his actions and having developed a friendship with the young boy he had once tormented, he found himself at a loss for words.

"Are you-" the torturer started to ask if Demitas was fine, but his words trailed off. He realized the irony of his concern after having subjected Demitas to such brutal treatment. The guilt weighed heavily on him, making it difficult for him to find the right words to express his remorse.

Demitas, still feigning pain, looked up at the torturer with a mixture of pain and curiosity in his eyes. He didn't say a word, allowing the torturer to contemplate his own actions and the consequences they had on others.

'Obviously he isn't fine. It's all your fault… It's your fault Hok.'

Hok, the Low Slave of Rank 1, was a man of 35 years who had known nothing but captivity since the day he was born within those walls.

His life had been marked by suffering, enduring countless insults and beatings at the hands of his captors. The absence of his left arm stood as a visible reminder of the brutality he had endured.

"Haha, I am fine, Uncle," Demitas assured Hok with a strained smile.

"I will go and rest, then I think I will be better," Demitas continued, emphasizing his injury by limping as he walked away. Hok nodded in understanding, acknowledging Demitas' need for rest and recovery.

As Demitas made his way through the underground prison, he encountered other slaves along the way. Their eyes filled with pity as they saw his apparent pain and suffering. They understood all too well the harsh realities of their existence within those walls. Yet, beneath the pity, there was also an undercurrent of fear.

Why?

The news of him allegedly killing two slaves had spread like wildfire among the prisoners, turning him into a subject of both awe and apprehension.

While Demitas made his way through the prison, whispers of his recent actions reached his ears.

"No way, he really killed?" one voice exclaimed in disbelief.

"Of course, if not, he wouldn't have been punished," another voice replied, the words carrying a mix of curiosity and caution.

The rumors had taken on a life of their own, morphing into tales of Demitas's formidable strength and ruthless nature. Some whispered that he was a force to be reckoned with, a dangerous individual who would stop at nothing to achieve his goals. Others were fascinated by his audacity, admiring his courage to defy the oppressive system that held them captive.

[Well well, look who has gotten famous.]

'Shut up.'

[Keke, aren't you proud of yourself? Killing two slaves, wasn't that a satisfying task?]

Demitas felt a deep sense of remorse for the lives he had taken. Killing others was a new experience for him, and it weighed heavily on his conscience. The guilt was suffocating, and he felt the urge to vomit.

He knew he deserved punishment for his actions, as the deaths he caused haunted his thoughts. The physical pain from the punishment offered a temporary distraction from his guilt, but he knew it wouldn't absolve him.

Demitas couldn't shake off the lingering guilt of his past actions, and he knew it would haunt him for a long time, but thankfully, not anymore.

However, he was still angry at the system.

'Just what do you want from me?'

[A simple task, isn't it easy to know from my name?]

'Supreme Monarch System? You want me to be a monarch?' Demitas had already guessed it, but he wasn't aware that he had to get his hands dirty.

[Yes, and do you think it is easy to become one? Especially a slave?]

[Hell nah, sorry bud, this is just the tip of the ice-berg.]

[You have far worse things left to do.]

"…"

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