F-Rank Puppeteer!! But I'll be Queen, and I'm not a narcissist!!!!!-Chapter 178: Physical and Psychological Wounds in a Cruel Act

Chapter 178: Physical and Psychological Wounds in a Cruel Act

"A pair of pliers? You think you’ll get any information out of me with a pair of pliers?" the angel asks mockingly as I approach her.

"No, I don’t..." I take her shackled hands, looking at her nails. She sees me staring and smiles.

"New at this, huh? Pulling out my nails is so original." She rolls her eyes as if mocking me. I take her pinky finger and place the pliers, but I go further up. She looks at me, confused, until I squeeze the pliers.

"Ghmm!!" She stifles a groan of pain as the pliers close on the joint of her pinky, severing her finger. She didn’t expect that, and the pain is far worse than if it had just been her nail.

I am a puppet. There is no one who understands joints better than me. It’s knowledge that came with my body becoming a living puppet. I understand the worst possible places to receive wounds that cause pain.

The nerves, the nerve endings, and the deep tissues in those parts generate a horrible kind of pain when injured.

"..." Yet, the sound of her pain makes my skin crawl. I bite my tongue, keeping my expression neutral so I don’t appear to be wavering.

Soon, I move to the next finger, and then another, and another, until I have torn off all ten of her fingers. She holds back her tears while staring at me with hatred. I smell the blood as I look at my dirty hands.

"..." I grip the pliers tightly, looking at the angel girl’s bloody hands. My mind is numb to the suffering I’ve caused. Even though it hurts me to do this, my body mechanically carries out the work on its own.

"Let’s move on to another." I stand up, tossing the pliers on the floor, and pick up a mirror. I position the mirror in front of her so she can see herself—a painful form of psychological torture since she’ll see the destruction of her body more easily.

"..." I go to her and, using my magic, generate a thicker line focused on being resistant. I tie the line to the bones of her severed fingers, and then with magic, I begin to pull.

"...?" She looks confused until she starts to moan in pain, grinding her teeth to keep from screaming as the lines pull on the bones, causing the ligaments in the joints of her hand to begin slowly tearing.

"..."

’I want to vomit...’ I can perfectly visualize the image of her ligaments tearing inside, and the image makes me nauseous—a feeling that doesn’t show on my completely neutral face.

"Gahhh!" She screams when the joints rupture completely. The bones of her hand, fingers, and wrist separate painfully. As the rest of the missing finger bones were disconnected, they are pulled out of her body.

"..." I see the ten small bone fragments that have just been ripped from her hands. She also looks at the bones, and I see fear in her eyes.

"You need to hide your fear better," I say, unsure why. But I hide my own fear well. Neither my face nor my eyes reveal how much I’m stewing in guilt inside. Perhaps it’s because seeing her fear makes me even more uncomfortable.

"Y-You bitch... I don’t need your advice," she says angrily, but since the tendons in both her hands have torn, they have practically lost all movement, only having slight spasms.

"Advice..." I go to the torture table and pick up two large nails. There’s another joint that generates hellish pain: the wrist joints, the space between the hand and the arm, that small point where I know the pain will be horrific.

I walk over to the shackled girl with the nail and hammer and begin hammering the nail into that point. No matter her resistance, she screams with each blow that drives the nails into that area, blood flowing to the floor like a stain connecting the two of us.

"..." When I finish, the two nails are deeply embedded in that area while she is crying and breathing with difficulty, terror and pain stamped on her rigid face.

"Angels have learned to endure torture, I know that... Unfortunately for you and for me, I know too much about the body..." I say, pitying this girl. No training in the world would prepare her to feel such pain in the joints, muscles, tendons, and nerves of the body.

"..." I think about what other folds and points in the body are painful in this way, so I take two more nails to drive into her feet, specifically at the curve of the shin and foot. As soon as I drive these nails into her, the scream that leaves her mouth chills the soul while the nail pierces straight through her heel from one side to the other.

My hands tremble so much for a moment that I almost drop the hammer before regaining control.

Since these are serious but controlled wounds, she won’t die from blood loss. But with every scream she lets out, something inside me seems to break, as I feel like a horrible monster.

"..." But even if I am a horrible monster at this very moment, I don’t let it show. My empty face seems to finally start terrifying the girl in front of me.

"W-Why don’t you ask!? WHY DON’T YOU ASK QUESTIONS!!?" she says, crying and screaming at me, her voice laden with hatred and pain that makes me tremble slightly. Her tears drip onto her body as I listen to the sound of blood droplets falling on the stone floor.

"Why? Because I don’t want answers... I just want to cause you pain." It’s a fact. Just as the book says, I’m not torturing her to get her to give me information. I’m torturing her so that she feels so much pain she decides on her own to give up the information to make it stop.

"Y-You monster!" Her insult hits me deeply. I breathe, trying to stay calm and in control so I don’t cry, because I know full well that I’m being a monster. I don’t need her to tell me what I am now.

"..." I go to the torture table, looking at the various things. Among them, I pick up one that is a mix of pliers with side-drill bits for grip. I go to her again and start using it on her mouth to pull out each one of her teeth.

With each tooth pulled, her screams and tears increase. The pain from the piercing and the teeth being torn out is terrible, while the sounds echo throughout the prison as a warning to the other angels about what their fate will be.

And with each tooth I pull, I insert a needle into the dental nerves—a small needle that makes every movement of her jaw a true hell. Because simply pulling the teeth would be an easier pain for her to handle later.

But now, with every pain she feels, her face contorts, making the needles generate pain. Every time she tries to grind her teeth or close her mouth, the needles pierce deeper. It’s truly... monstrous. An idea so monstrous I wonder why I had it? Is my mind really that evil?

"..." When I finish pulling them all out, her mouth is full of blood. I notice how my hands and arms are stained with blood, and there’s also blood on my face from her struggling against the restraints.

"..." I stand up and look in the mirror. The reflection is a reality that disgusts me so much: a broken girl crying and bleeding, and a cold monster without any feeling on its face, like a doll following a program.

"P-Please... s-stop..." the girl pleads with a trembling, broken voice—the first time she’s asked me to stop. I think this is her biological limit. She is still a living being. No training would prepare her to have her nerves and joints injured like this.

"...I’m going to the bathroom." I leave the room for a moment, noticing that a tear has rolled down my face. I run to the prison bathroom, where I almost collapse at the sink as soon as I arrive.

I start washing the blood from my hands, scrubbing them compulsively to wash away all the "filth" that clings to them, while wiping the tears from my face with my sleeve.

"Blergh..." I end up vomiting into the sink. Even though nothing comes out from inside me, the reflex happens on its own, just like the crying that escapes. I look at the bathroom mirror, the beautiful face stained with blood and tears.

The "beauty" I took such care of, shown as a face I never expected to see on myself—a distorted mirror of the violence I can cause for a selfish goal. I shake my head negatively, trying to push out of my mind the bad thoughts about how monstrous the beautiful being in the mirror’s reflection is.

But this brief moment of "freedom" lasts almost nothing, because I know I have to go back. I stop washing my hands and wipe my face with a cloth, then return to the room to continue the torture as it must be done. After all, giving her time won’t make her give up the information.

And the sooner she gives up the information, the sooner I can stop torturing that poor girl.

...

...

...

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" I laugh at what I’m seeing—a manic, amused laugh as I watch Evelyn.

"Esther-sama?" Elizabeth looks at me in confusion as she sees my smile, but I ignore her calling me while focusing 100% on Evelyn. Watching her torture an angel is so sweetly entertaining.

She’s using my book to see what to do, but she’s adding her own knowledge to create a completely unique torture. And seeing that angel break down in tears is so funny and hilarious.

I never thought Evelyn would do this. Honestly, she’s too much of a coward, and I always thought that when it came to torturing someone, her cowardice would paralyze her. But no, she went through with it.

Instead of paralyzing, she just hid all her feelings and started torturing the angel. Of course, seeing her run to the bathroom feeling sick is a bit uncomfortable, but overall, she did well for her first time torturing someone.

’This is going to make my love for her grow...’ I like this. I like seeing that she’s changed like this. It makes her more suited to the reality that is our world. I don’t like seeing her feeling sick, but I like seeing that when necessary, she can be as cold as needed.

’I’d love to be there...’ I could guide her much better on this path, gently hold her hand while helping her realize it’s not so bad. Unfortunately, I can only watch my wife do this while I’m here busy with annoying enemies.

"Hey, Elizabeth, prepare the prisoners for torture. Watching has given me the urge to hurt them a little." Seeing Evelyn torture sharpens this instinct to want to see blatantly oppressive violence against something unable to defend itself.

"Of course, Esther-sama!" She leaves the room to prepare the enemies we captured, while I go back to watching Evelyn return to torturing the enemy she captured.

"Hmm, good choice, Evelyn... Hehehehe." I laugh, seeing Evelyn drive a large needle through the Angel’s throat from one side to the other, avoiding any vital points but causing immense discomfort due to where she pierced, making any movement of the angel’s neck create significant pain.

It makes me curious—where and from whom did Evelyn learn these weak points where she can pierce without killing and only cause pain? But regardless of how she learned, it’s a spectacle watching my wife torture someone.

"I can’t wait for us to reconcile..." I know we had a fight, but I miss her. I hope that after these battles, when we return to the castle, we can make up.

And if she’s feeling too bad about what she did... I think I can try to comfort her a little with affection and kindness. She deserves a reward for her achievements.