SSS-Class MILFs And Their Yandere Daughters, I Want Them All!

Chapter 612: How Dare You Not Scream?!

Charlotte’s whole life, she had been sheltered. Spoiled. Protected from every harsh reality by the loving embrace of her family.

She had never witnessed violence.

She couldn’t even watch horror movies—the mere suggestion of them was enough to send her running to her mother’s arms.

And now the person she loved most in that world was sitting in front of her with his leg cut off.

Her body froze. Her lungs seized. Her vision narrowed to a single point—that horrible, gaping wound, that severed limb lying on the floor, that blood pooling and spreading and staining everything it touched.

She was having a panic attack. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t—

“What’s wrong, Charlotte?”

The voice came from the side, entirely untroubled.

“Did something happen? Why did you scream like that?”

Charlotte’s eyes snapped to Mika, expecting to see him writhing in agony, his face contorted with the unimaginable pain of having his limb severed.

Instead, she found him looking at her with a serene expression, his face bearing no trace of suffering whatsoever.

“Mika?” She whispered, her voice cracking.

He tilted his head slightly, confusion flickering across his features. “Yes? Is something the matter? You look like you’re about to cry.”

Charlotte’s hand trembled as she pointed at the bloody stump where his leg had been.

“Your…Your leg, Mika. Your leg! It’s been—it’s been cut off!”

Mika glanced down at his own mutilated body, then back up at her, his expression oddly thoughtful.

“Really? My leg has been cut off? I don’t feel anything at all.”

Charlotte’s mind reeled. This didn’t make sense!

None of this made sense. People didn’t just not notice having their limbs removed.

But before she could process this, another voice cut through the air.

“WHAT’S GOING ON?!” Marcus growled, stepping closer, his voice cracking with sudden rage.

“WHAT THE HELL? WHY AREN’T YOU SCREAMING?! WHY ARE YOU ACTING SO CALM?!”

Marcus lunged forward, grabbing the severed leg by the ankle from the floor.

Charlotte gasped in horror as Marcus held the grisly piece of flesh right up to Mika’s face, pushing it dangerously close to his eyes.

“I LITERALLY CUT OFF YOUR LEG, YOU BRAT! LOOK!”

Marcus snapped, his voice rising to a frantic pitch as he pointed at the severed limb.

“Look at this! It’s a perfect slice! I can see the inside of your flesh right here—I can see your bone! So why—”

Marcus’s eyes flickered with a desperate, manic glee, searching Mika’s calm irises.

“—WHY AREN’T YOU SCREAMING?!”

Mika looked at the severed leg held inches from his face, then looked up at Marcus. A slow, arrogant smirk spread across his lips.

“Oh. That.” He let out a soft chuckle. “Well, I forgot to mention…I disabled my ability to feel pain.”

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap.

Charlotte’s tears stopped mid-flow. Marcus’s grip on the severed leg went slack.

“You…what?”

“I knew that after getting captured, I’d probably be tortured. And I’m not particularly fond of pain—never have been. So I took precautions. I disabled the sensation of pain throughout my entire body.”

“Every nerve. Every receptor. Every synapse that would normally transmit signals of physical distress.” He shrugged again. “So no matter what you do to me, I won’t feel a thing.”

“That’s…That’s impossible!” Marcus’s composure cracked, his voice rising to a shriek. “You don’t make any sense! I have complete control over this entire realm!”

“This is MY territory! MY domain! I make the rules here—not you! No one makes rules here except ME!”

He was breathing heavily now, his chest heaving with each ragged breath. The confident, cultured monster had been replaced by something far more volatile.

“SO HOW?!” He grabbed Mika’s face with both hands, forcing the boy to look at him. “HOW IN THE WORLD DID YOU DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT?!”

Mika met his gaze without flinching. His smile didn’t waver.

“Don’t think too highly of yourself.” He said calmly. “This world isn’t as absolute as you believe. Just because I can’t break out doesn’t mean I can’t pull off a few tricks of my own.”

Charlotte rushed to his side, her earlier paralysis forgotten. She cupped his face in her hands, searching his eyes for any sign of deception.

“M-Mika, is it true? Are you really not feeling anything?! Please—please tell me you’re not lying to me!”

Mika turned his calm gaze toward her. “Do I look like I’m in pain?”

She studied him closely. His eyes were clear and steady, not dilated with agony. His lips weren’t trembling. His skin, though pale from blood loss, wasn’t beaded with the cold sweat of suffering.

He looked…relaxed. Almost bored. As if he were lying on a comfortable couch rather than sitting in a torture chair with his leg cut off.

“No.” She whispered. “You don’t look like you’re in pain at all.”

“Because I’m not.” His voice was gentle, reassuring. “I promise you, Charlotte. I can’t feel a thing.”

A sob of pure relief burst from her throat.

“Thank God—! Oh, thank God! I thought—I was so scared—I thought you’d be screaming and crying and—”

She pressed her forehead against his shoulder, her tears soaking into his shirt.

“Thank God you’re not suffering! Thank God!”

But even as she wept with relief, Marcus was not satisfied.

“This…This can’t be…” He muttered, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. “This absolutely cannot be! My whole life—every single victim I’ve ever had—they all screamed! They all begged!”

“They all wept and pleaded and howled until their voices gave out! That’s where the joy comes from! That’s the entire point!”

He spun toward Mika, his eyes blazing.

“AND YOU—SOME INSIGNIFICANT LITTLE BRAT—YOU DARE TO JUST SIT THERE AND NOT EVEN WHIMPER?!”

He grabbed the knife from the floor, his knuckles trembling around the handle.

“THIS IS THE MOST TERRIBLE INSULT OF MY LIFE!”

He sneered, raising the heavy knife high above his head.

“Let’s see if you can keep that smug face after what I do next.”

“NO! STOP! PLEASE!” Charlotte screamed, hurling her phantom body between them.

But because she existed only as a spiritual projection in his domain, Marcus passed right through her like smoke.

CLANG! THUD!

The blade descended once more, hacking cleanly through Mika’s remaining leg above the knee.

The second limb hit the floorboards with a heavy splash, sending another thick pool of crimson expanding across the wood.

Now Mika was left with nothing below his thighs but two gushing stumps.

But once again, Mika showed no reaction.

“Did you do something?” He asked, his voice dripping with false concern. “Am I supposed to feel anything right now? I think I felt a mosquito bite, perhaps. Could you swat it away for me?”

“No. No, no, no!” Marcus’s voice had lost its sadistic glee, replaced by raw desperation. “You’re lying! You’re definitely lying! I’ll make you scream! I’ll make you scream!”

He raised the knife again, and this time, he brought it down on Mika’s arm.

THUD!

Mika’s arm dropped to the floor with a wet slap.

Charlotte couldn’t contain herself any longer. She threw herself at Marcus, her fists beating against his chest even though she knew it was futile.

“STOP IT! STOP IT! I’M BEGGING YOU! PLEASE—PLEASE—I’LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING! I’LL TELL MY MOTHER TO GIVE YOU ALL THE WEALTH IN THE WORLD!”

“WHATEVER POWER YOU WANT! JUST STOP HURTING HIM!”

Marcus turned toward her, and for a moment, his expression was almost pitying.

“Wealth? Power?” He laughed—a hollow, empty sound. “I already have all of those things!I’ve had them since the day I was born! They mean nothing to me! Less than nothing.”

His eyes flicked back to Mika, and the pity vanished, replaced by something far darker.

“Even if your mother offered me a triple-S-class blessing, I wouldn’t want it. Rather…”

He raised the knife again.

“I just want him to feel pain. That’s all. Just pain. Just suffering. Just the sound of his screams.”

The knife fell again.

THUD!

Mika’s right arm joined the others on the floor.

He was limbless now. Just a torso and a head, strapped to a chair in a pool of his own blood.

It was a horrifying sight—the kind of image that would haunt Charlotte’s nightmares for the rest of her life.

But Mika still wasn’t reacting.

“You’re wasting your time.” He said, his voice perfectly steady. “I told you. I can’t feel anything.”

That bored sigh snapped the final thread of Marcus’s self-control.

“You brat…YOU BRAT! I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!”

He descended upon Mika like a madman, his knife flashing in a frenzy of violence.

He didn’t bother with limbs anymore—there were none left to take.

Instead, the knife punched through Mika’s ribcage with a sickening crunch.

PACHUK!

Marcus twisted it, pulled it out, and slammed it into his stomach.

SQUELCH!

He pulled again, and this time, entrails came with it—slick, glistening coils of intestine that spilled across the table.

“SCREAM!” Marcus howled as he continued his butchery. “SCREAM FOR ME!”

But Mika wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

He lay there, his body being reduced to minced meat, and he smiled. That same arrogant, taunting smile that seemed to say.

“Is this really the best you can do?”

Charlotte on the other hand had collapsed to her knees.

Tears streamed down her face as she watched Mika be carved apart like a Christmas turkey.

“Stop…please stop…” She whispered, her voice barely audible over the wet sounds of butchery. “I beg you…please…”

But Marcus was beyond hearing. Beyond reason. He had become a creature of pure obsession, driven by the singular need to make this boy break!

He cut deeper.

“DIE!”

He cut faster.

“DIE!”

He reduced Mika’s torso to a ruin of exposed bone, shredded muscle, and glistening organs.

“DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE!”

PACHUK! PACHUK! PACHUK! PACHUK! PACHUK!

The liver was visible, pulsing weakly. The lungs had been pierced, deflated like punctured balloons. The heart—God, she could see his heart—beating away behind a cage of splintered ribs.

Through it all, Charlotte’s screams echoed through the library.

“NOOOOOOOOOO!”

She threw herself at Marcus again and again, but her ghostly form passed through him every time.

She tried to shield Mika with her body, but the knife simply went through her as if she weren’t there.

She was a witness to atrocity, nothing more—condemned to watch the person she loved be destroyed while she stood by, helpless.

The pure happiness she had felt earlier when Mika had told her he had found a way to enter the domain to protect her turned into bitter, poison ash.

She would have traded anything to take his place, to bear this suffering for him, rather than watch his body be torn to shreds before her eyes.

—

Finally, exhausted and panting heavily, Marcus stumbled backward, slipping slightly in the lake of blood covering the floor. The butcher knife clattered from his trembling fingers.

“Impossible…”

Marcus gasped, staring at the gory remains with wide, uncomprehending eyes.

“How…HOW can someone I am personally torturing feel nothing at all? It’s impossible…IT’S IMPOSSIBLE!”

All of Marcus’s grand arrogance, his god-complex, had vanished, replaced by the frantic panic of a madman whose reality had been shattered.

Beside the chair, Charlotte sat frozen in absolute horror as she stared at Mika’s horrendous state.

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