"Did those students cause any trouble?"
Standing atop the towering, fortified city wall of the Yokogawa Mountain Base, Adrian looked down at the sprawling lower levels and asked the two men kneeling respectfully behind him.
Shichiro Takahashi and Hachiro Takahashi were "house-born" retainers of the Busujima clan—individuals whose families had been bound in servitude to the Busujima lineage for generations. Under the terms of ancient, feudal contracts, they belonged to a class of servants whom a Master could literally hack to death in the courtyard without incurring any legal liability.
Of course, with the dawn of the modern era and the implementation of democratic laws, those blood contracts had supposedly become obsolete; nowadays, the Takahashi brothers were merely highly paid, elite security personnel. But old habits die hard, and the brothers' absolute loyalty to the Sword Saint remained unshaken.
"Reporting to the Clan Head: most of the students behaved reasonably well last night," Shichiro answered, keeping his head bowed.
"However, a few of the boys kept clamoring and demanding to go home. Since we did not have your explicit permission to release them, we took the liberty of punishing the dissenters ourselves. We beg the Clan Head to forgive our presumption."
"Oh?" Adrian turned around, a dark smile playing on his lips. "How exactly did you punish them?"
"We gave them a sound thrashing with bamboo canes, Clan Head. They are much more obedient this morning!" Hachiro chimed in proudly.
"That won't do," Adrian sighed, shaking his head in mock disappointment.
"Beating people with rigid bamboo canes offers no lasting educational value. It bruises the skin but doesn't break the spirit. Next time, switch to a long, braided leather whip. That is the sound that truly commands obedience when it cracks across a bare back."
"Yes, Sir!"
The Takahashi brothers nodded excitedly in unison. Although their Master had already informed them that the world had entered an era of apocalyptic chaos—where all the old laws, human rights, and social norms were completely null and void—it was no easy feat for ordinary men to completely rewire their mindset overnight after having lived under the strict rule of law for several decades. Having their Master explicitly authorize brutal, feudal discipline was incredibly liberating for the retainers.
"Do not let those students sit idle. Put them to work immediately. Have them start clearing the overgrown wilderness on the lower tiers and preparing the soil for planting crops," Adrian ordered, pointing toward the vast, terraced mountainous terrain below. "We may have stockpiled a massive amount of supplies, but we cannot simply sit back and lazily consume our reserves until they run dry."
The Yokogawa Mountain Base was brilliantly divided into two distinct levels by its natural topography.
The upper level—the sheer, twenty-meter plateau where the central villa sat—served as Adrian's private sanctuary. No matter how chaotic and blood-soaked the outside world became, the mountaintop remained an impenetrable haven of luxury and absolute dominion.
The lower level, meanwhile, occupied the entire sprawling base of the mountain—an area spanning several hundred acres, encircled by the heavy moat and blast doors. If the fertile land was properly utilized for farming, it could easily provide for the basic, long-term caloric needs of two to three hundred people.
After all, Adrian's original vision when he hijacked this fortress was to eventually shelter and exploit a self-sustaining community of roughly two hundred desperate refugees.
"Understood, Sir! We will put them to work immediately."
"Furthermore, if any other surviving refugees come seeking shelter at the gates, let them in. But put them through the exact same regimen of rigorous, back-breaking labor. Remember: we are not a charity, and I am not a savior," Adrian said coldly, glancing down at the few undead shambling pointlessly along the outer perimeter of the moat. "Everyone who seeks refuge here must pay their dues with their sweat and absolute obedience. If they refuse to submit to discipline, throw them back outside to the corpses."
Because Yokogawa Mountain was a highly secluded, private estate to begin with, the number of "Dead" that had naturally spawned within the immediate vicinity was negligible. Consequently, even as Tokonosu City descended into a burning, living hell just a few miles away, the interior of the base remained utterly serene.
"Wait... recruit more people from the city?" Shichiro asked after a moment's hesitant thought. "Clan Head, I am worried those newcomers might be unruly. The group that arrived yesterday consisted of sheltered students, so my brother and I were able to keep them in line easily. However, if a mob of hardened street toughs or Yakuza were to show up demanding shelter, maintaining order with just the two of us would prove to be a genuine challenge."
"You two have been studying the blade under my direct tutelage for years now," Adrian sighed, shaking his head with a look of profound resignation. "Surely you haven't forgotten how to draw your swords and cut a man down?"
Expecting his retainers to instantly adapt to the harsh, murderous realities of the apocalypse was, perhaps, asking a bit too much on day two. But no matter—they would get used to shedding human blood soon enough.
After instructing the Takahashi brothers to establish a brutal labor hierarchy over the lower levels, Adrian dismissed them and strolled leisurely back up the path to the mountaintop sanctuary.
"Water... please give me water... water..."
Hearing the sound of heavy footsteps approaching the cliff's edge, Saya hurriedly called out, her voice a weak, desperate croak.
Since last night, she had been bound to the heavy chain-link fence, entirely unable to move. The grueling ordeal—spanning an entire night of freezing winds and mosquito bites, followed by the better part of a sweltering morning—had completely stripped the haughty, arrogant young heiress of her usual fiery temperament.
As the old saying goes: The more arrogant a person is in times of ease, the more abject and pathetic they become in times of distress.
The old Saya Takagi would have maintained her aristocratic 'young lady' airs even while being chased by the undead. But now?
"Well, well. If it isn't Miss Takagi," Adrian asked teasingly as he stopped a few feet away, gazing down at the pink-haired tsundere.
The current Saya possessed absolutely none of her former, pristine grace. With her wrists handcuffed tightly to the wire mesh above her head, her entire, naked body sagged heavily against the metal links. Her knees were scraped and resting on the rough concrete.
The ground beneath her was visibly damp with a dark, foul-smelling puddle—a clear indication that, unable to hold it over the past fourteen hours, the poor, humiliated genius had wet herself multiple times.
"Water... please... give me water..."
As she watched the towering man approach, Saya's face betrayed absolutely neither hatred nor defiance. Instead, it wore an expression of sheer relief—even a pathetic hint of eager subservience.
She hadn't eaten a single morsel since lunch yesterday. Then, after being stripped, bound, and violently deflowered, she had spent the entire night screaming, weeping, and shivering. She was now utterly drained of all physical and mental strength.
While the night air hadn't been cold enough to induce hypothermia, Adrian had woken up that morning, enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, and gone down the mountain to "inspect operations"—leaving her chained up and forgetting about her entirely.
After baking under the scorching, unnatural late-morning sun for hours, Saya felt as though the very skin on her back was blistering and peeling away. Worse still, every drop of moisture within her body had evaporated through sweat and tears. She felt as if she were actively dying of thirst; her throat was so parched and cracked it felt as though she were swallowing ground glass.
"You look absolutely disgusting," Adrian stated flatly, pinching the bridge of his nose in performative disgust.
The current Saya was covered in filth—not just dirt from the wind, but dried semen, virgin blood, and her own urine. Her pink twin-tails were a tangled, matted rat's nest. She looked like a deranged, feral beggar; even the most desperate, horny scavenger wouldn't likely find her appealing in this wretched state.
He turned around, fully intending to go back to the villa and order Kotonoha—his 'Head Bitch'—to unchain the girl, drag her to the showers, and scrub her clean.
However, when Saya saw his broad back turn away—assuming in her delirious panic that he was about to abandon her again for good—her fragile psyche finally snapped completely. She immediately began to plead.
"No! No, don't go! Please, Master, spare me! As long as you give me water, I will do anything!"
Having been left hanging like a piece of cured meat for over fourteen hours, she felt she was on the absolute precipice of death. If he were to simply walk away and never return, she couldn't bear to imagine her fate. Would she slowly starve and die of dehydration right here against the fence? Or would she be scorched alive under the blazing afternoon sun?
Realizing the terrifying fragility of her own life for the very first time, the broken genius burst into fresh, agonizing tears and began to beg like a common slave.
"Please... sob... please don't leave me here to die... sob... please let me go!"
"So, you need water, do you?"
Adrian, who had been about to walk away, paused and reconsidered. He slowly turned back around and stopped less than a meter away from her flushed, tear-streaked face.
"Yes! Water! Please give me water! I'll do anything! I'll suck your cock! I'll be your obedient woman! Please!"
Saya nodded frantically, her pride entirely atomized. Just a single night of physical torment and psychological isolation had completely stripped the haughty, tsundere heiress of all her attitude.
It couldn't be helped. In this day and age, people who possessed the sheer, iron will to truly choose death over submission were vanishingly rare.
"Open your mouth wide and catch it," Adrian grinned darkly, reaching for his belt buckle. "If you let even a single drop spill, you will get nothing else to drink for the rest of the day."
He pulled down his zipper and whipped out his heavy, softening cock. He had been busy overseeing the base's operations all morning without a chance to take a leak—and now, finally, he had found the perfect, degrading toilet.
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