Jigoku wakes up naked.
He sees nothing, only darkness, thick like tar.
He feels that he's sitting. The metallic cold penetrates his skin, and his body sticks to the icy surface of an iron chair.
His arms and legs are strapped to the armrests and legs of the chair with thick clamps, rough wires that dig into his skin with every, even the slightest, movement.
He's in an enormous space — he can feel it, even though he can't see.
This isn't just an ordinary basement. It's a dungeon… but so terrifyingly vast it seems almost unreal.
No ceiling is visible, nor any walls.
The space around is absolutely dark, without a single source of light.
In this darkness, there is no beginning or end, only void.
The stench of rot is overwhelming — not just ordinary, organic decay, but something deeper, as if not people were rotting, but the very foundations of this place.
As if the dungeon walls were soaked in the corpse-breath of hundreds of beings that vanished here without a trace.
There's a smell of metal, rust, blood.
A sickly-sweet, suffocating scent of decay and clotted blood ingrained in the stone, the iron, the echo.
Jigoku looks around.
Jigoku: Where the fuck am I? What the hell is going on here?
What is this place… Why can't I see anything? Why am I naked, tied up… alone?
Maybe I shouldn't say anything… Maybe if I stay quiet, it won't hear me.
Or someone.
Or… something worse.
But on the other hand… what difference does it make?
Whatever's gonna fucking happen, it'll happen anyway.
Alright, calm down, fuck… calm down… Jesus fuck… oh fuck… – he tries to calm his thoughts, terrified.
*Jigoku: Hello?
Silence.
For a moment, only the echo repeats that one word, stretching it into infinity.
And then…
From the depths of the darkness, from a place impossible to pinpoint, a voice is heard.
Male, hoarse, deranged, as if speaking through a dead throat that hasn't felt the warmth of life in ages.
*Voice: Ooooh, our little doggy woke up…
Pause.
Jigoku's heart beats faster.
*Voice: Sitting nicely? Quiet? Good, good… she doesn't like noise.
*Jigoku: Where am I… And who's speaking?
*Voice: Where are you...? Hahaha!
*In a place where echoes have names, and the walls remember everything — even what you don't want them to. — Laughter, hoarse and inhuman, as if made of many throats at once.
Pause.
*Voice: She likes ones like you...
*When she looks at you, she laughs inside.
*Though her eyes are like glass — empty and cold.
*Jigoku: Who? What are you talking about?
Voice: Small. Quiet. Sweet. And so very hungry.
Do you still carry her touch on your skin? Because she already feels yours. From the inside.
Jigoku remains silent and swallows hard.
*Voice: A child is just a wrapper. Skin for the fire.
*I used to be able to see what was coming. Shadows before their birth.
*But then… she looked at me just once...
*And then everything went dark.
*Everything went dark! – he screams terrifyingly, and the scream stretches into a horrifying echo.
Suddenly, heavy footsteps echo in the darkness.
A step… – the echo stretches endlessly.
Step… Step… Step...
The voice that until now filled the space goes silent, as if it was extinguished, as if it had never been there.
Jigoku hears the steps getting closer and closer, until they're almost right next to him.
In the darkness, where nothing is visible but blackness, two diamond-blue, bright eyes appear — cold and piercing, like icy stars on a moonless sky.
Those eyes slowly move toward him, stopping just in front of his face.
Jigoku feels the cold filling the air between them; he sees nothing except those glowing eyes, which seem to see right through him.
After a moment, a silhouette of a girl emerges from the darkness — small, almost ethereal, surrounded by shadow.
In her small hand, a torch ignites — but not a normal one. The flame is blue, bright and flickering, as if it burned with ice instead of fire.
The flame casts a gentle, cold glow on her pale face, revealing every detail with sharp clarity, while the rest of her body sinks into a blurred half-shadow.
The girl stands in front of him, no more than a meter away — so close that Jigoku can clearly see her face and feel her presence, even though the rest of the room and her figure remain shrouded in darkness.
*Girl: Boo!
Jigoku stares in terror.
*Girl: Hahaha! – she suddenly bursts out laughing, light and ringing.
*Don't be scared, I'm just a human. I'm not a mujo.
*Maybe we can be friends?
Jigoku: Oh fuck, what is this? Maybe it won't be a disaster, but something here reeks of bullshit… – he clenches his jaw, thinking fast.
*Jigoku: Sure. – he says aloud, trying to sound calm.
Where exactly am I?
*Yuko: Don't worry, you're at my place. – she says with a cheerful sparkle in her eyes.
*I'm Yuko.
*Yuko: And what's your name?
*Jigoku: Jigoku. Nice to meet you.
Jigoku: I guess… – he thinks, full of suspicion.
*Yuko: Jigoku! What a cool name! – Her enthusiasm is almost contagious.
*It's the first time I have a friend with that name, how cool!
*Do you want to play with me?
*That's what friends do — they play with each other.
Jigoku: Fuck, what could that mean… Jesus fuck… – his thoughts are spinning.
*Jigoku: Sure, why not... – he says cautiously.
*But first, maybe set me free, yeah?
Yuko furrows her brow and makes an innocent, yet firm expression.
*Yuko: Great! Really great!
*Because I don't like friends who don't want to play with me.
Suddenly, her voice becomes cold, almost merciless.
*Yuko: Unfortunately, I can't set you free.
*Yuko: You'd ruin the fun. – she says in a terrifying tone.
Jigoku swallows hard.
*Jigoku: Am I going to die here?
*Yuko: Oh, come on, you won't die, we're friends after all. – she says cheerfully.
*If you died, you'd ruin all the fun. Death isn't fun at all… – she says with certainty.
Yuko steps even closer. With her left hand, she gently touches Jigoku's face.
Her fingers glide across his cheek, nose, jawline — slowly, almost curiously, as if she were feeling out a new doll.
*Yuko: Actually... – she says softly, with a slight blush and a sparkle in her eye.
*You're kinda nice. – Her voice becomes quieter, more intimate, as if she were saying it to herself, not to him. A blush appears on her face.
Yuko leans in closer, tilts her head like a cat that's noticed something odd.
Her gaze stops on Jigoku's eye socket — empty, dark, crusted with dried blood that, like a river long ago spilled, froze midstream, trickling down his cheek.
*Yuko: Ooo… gross, not nice.
*What happened to you? Did you lose an eye?
She reaches out, as if to stick her finger into the wound, but stops at the last moment, giggling quietly to herself.
*Yuko: Were you playing with someone? – she asks with a smile.
*Was it the kind of play where no one laughs anymore?
*Jigoku: I just don't have any luck in life.
At that very moment, Jigoku notices something familiar…
On Yuko's hand — the same one that's just been touching him — shines a distinctive glove.
It looks like a Kagura glove, like the one described by the men at the tavern.
Yuko stops, pulls her hand away, and glances at it over her shoulder.
The corner of her mouth lifts in a slight, cheeky smile.
*Yuko: Ahh… that? – she throws out with a hint of fake surprise.
*Yeah. So, did you like me before you noticed, or only now?
*Jigoku: I've never met anyone from Kagura. I only just heard about you recently…
*Honestly… badass name. – he tries to play it neutral, but his voice trembles slightly.
Yuko giggles softly, childishly — genuinely amused by his answer.
*Yuko: Kagura is more than just a name, you know? – she says, starting to circle the chair Jigoku is tied to.
His neck prickles as he loses sight of her.
*Jigoku: What is Kagura even about? – he asks cautiously.
*Sorry for all the questions, it's just… it would be cool to belong to a clan. One where everyone is strong.
Yuko stops behind his back. He feels her breath right above his neck.
*Yuko: What is it about? – she repeats after him and giggles.
*It's simple.
*Schemes, provocations, and finally — a new beginning and power.
*That's the goal.
Her voice becomes lower, more adult — as if she were speaking with someone else's voice, or merely quoting.
*Yuko: Everything goes according to plan. Always.
Suddenly, she moves back in front of him, so their faces are almost level.
*Yuko: Join us?
*Unfortunately, that won't be possible, little bug. – she says with sympathy, tilting her head.
Jigoku watches her tensely.
*Jigoku: Why? What do you have to do to join you?
Yuko stops smiling. Her face, for a moment, becomes serious — almost empty.
*Yuko: Survive. – she answers quietly, with such calm that it sends chills down the spine.
After a moment, she smiles again — but this time, there's nothing childlike in her smile anymore.
*Yuko: Maybe you'd like to meet my last toy?
She smiles sweetly and tilts her head, as if offering him a candy.
*Jigoku: Sure.
Jigoku: Oh fuck… what could it be. – he thinks uncertainly.
The girl turns around and starts walking to the side with tiny steps.
The torch in her hand sways gently, casting blue reflections on the slick floor.
As she moves about two meters away, the light slowly begins to reveal something sitting opposite Jigoku — something he hadn't noticed before.
His heart starts pounding.
In the glow of the flame, a woman's body appears.
She's sitting in an identical chair to Jigoku's.
Bound with the same metal wires.
But what's left of her no longer resembles a human.
No eyes.
Her mouth sewn shut with thick, rusty stitches.
Teeth ripped out, hanging around her neck as a necklace on a string.
Her legs end in shredded thighs.
Holes all over her body, as if her skin had been torn off in pieces, as if it were missing.
Hands without nails, fingers cut off.
Silence.
The echo of his breath bounces off the walls like the sound of someone dying.
Jigoku stares, paralyzed.
*Yuko: But I don't need her anymore. – with a smile.
At that very moment, something moves above her.
From the darkness emerges a gigantic arm, several meters long, massive, looking as if sculpted from pure, transparent crystal.
Diamond-like. Shiny. Blue.
Fingers long, ending in sharp claws.
The arm descends from above like a verdict.
One strike. One moment.
The woman is crushed.
The chair creaks, and her body — as if for a second made only of water — splashes into the wall of darkness.
Some of the blood splatters onto Jigoku.
The arm disappears.
As if it had never been there.
Silence.
Only Jigoku's breathing.
And the girl's laughter.
Yuko takes a few light steps, as if dancing to the rhythm of her own thoughts.
The torch in her hand trembles slightly, casting a bluish glow over the surroundings.
After a moment, she stops by… something that looks like a table.
But it's not an ordinary table.
A top of rusted metal, and underneath, old, warped wood.
Everything sticky, as if soaked with something that long ago used to be red.
On the table lie rusted hammers, silver cans, surgical scissors, a long needle with a bent tip, boxes filled with who-knows-what.
*Yuko: Look at my toys!
*Each one means something. Each one remembers something… – in a cheerful, childlike voice.
She picks up a hammer and starts lightly tapping it on the tabletop. Tok, tok, tok.
*Yuko: This one? This one met my mommy's first finger.
She points to a rusty knife.
*Yuko: And this? That's the "little tongue." But I don't like it, it makes a mess.
Yuko picks up the long needle.
*Yuko: And my favorite one… the "popper"!
*It goes pop under the skin. The body twitches in a funny way.
*The nerves move on their own.
Pause. Yuko looks adorably at her toys.
*Yuko: But don't worry, their time will come.
Yuko puts the toys down, adjusts the torch in her hand, and skips forward a few steps.
The blue flame of her torch sweeps across the space, previously drowned in total darkness.
Slowly, like a monster emerging from the gloom, something is revealed…
Something large, vertical, open like a sarcophagus.
An iron, tall structure with profiles resembling a human silhouette.
The interior is lined densely with rusty spikes — some thick, others thin like needles.
At the ends, dried, brownish stains can be seen — some fresh, others seemingly old.
The spiked doors are wide open, like arms inviting you in for an embrace.
*Yuko: And this is your queen.
*Aside from me, of course.
She approaches with the torch.
The flame reflects off the steel, painting blue reflections across the spikes.
Jigoku feels cold, even though nothing is happening.
She then returns to Jigoku.
Yuko begins unfastening the metal wires wrapped around his wrists and ankles.
Their grating, drawn-out sound tears through the silence, like a blade scraping against bone.
*Yuko: Easy. Don't scream, don't run…
*Because if you do something stupid, next time will be without your pretty little hands.
Jigoku doesn't move a millimeter.
Her eyes gleam as if she truly meant it.
And as if it wasn't a joke at all.
Jigoku: Fuck, if I move, she might kill me…
Above Yuko's head, something begins to move.
That arm again.
The several-meter-long limb emerges from the shadow like a ghost from an icy abyss — massive, sharp, alien.
*Yuko: The Queen doesn't like being ignored. – she says cheerfully.
The arm reaches for Jigoku.
In a single moment, he feels like a rodent caught in a giant's hand — light, meaningless.
The icy touch shoots through his body like needles.
He might try to fight… but the hand grips with such ease that every thought of movement disappears faster than breath.
Jigoku looks only at Yuko.
She's smiling, as if delighted by a new gift.
Slowly, with almost tender precision, the arm places him inside the Iron Maiden.
The spikes glisten with moisture and rust.
Each one aimed precisely at his body.
The doors remain open, like a mouth before the first scream.
Jigoku tries not to breathe.
He doesn't want to move, doesn't want to touch any of those spikes.
But there are too many.
One is already lightly piercing his side.
Another grazes his thigh.
Each breath is a risk of cutting deeper.
Yuko stands in front of him, and the blue flame lights only her face.
*Yuko: It's the most beautiful little house in the world, don't you think? – she says with a smile.
Yuko slowly closes the doors of the Iron Maiden.
The metal grinds, and the sound cuts into the ears like a blade.
*Yuko: Goodnight, darling. – she says smiling.
Click.
The lock snaps shut.
Inside — darkness. Absolute.
Silence.
The smell of old rust, sweat, and something that used to be blood.
There is no source of light — only cold metal and breath. His own. Short, ragged.
Somewhere in the dungeon — footsteps.
Endless echo spreads through the space like spilled oil.
Hard to tell where they begin, where they end.
Jigoku: She's walking away...
Fuck.
Honestly, I got lucky.
This thing inside... it's kinda spacious.
Some of the spikes must be missing... Or maybe they're blunt.
But still, fuck... it's hard...
What is this all about?
What the fuck did I get myself into?
Why me?
Jesus fuck! Fuck!
Silence.
Jigoku coughs.
The sound bounces back a thousand times, as if the dungeon itself were laughing at him.