IBP C1 Part 3

“Huuuh. Uuh.”

“Ah. Aack!”

After the spraying was finished, the next step was cleaning. They lathered them with something like body wash and scrubbed them with a brush. The brush itself looked soft, but it was meaningless when they scrubbed so hard on sensitive areas.

Their entire bodies, even their orifices, were thoroughly washed. A staff member with a pad approached the man. He examined the limp body, checked here and there, and then recorded something.

Finally, holes were pierced in both nipples. The drained men no longer resisted or screamed. Faint moans and stifled sobs were all that could be heard. Silver rings were attached to the nipples, and a thin, square, plastic card about the size of a thumb was attached to one of them.

The men, finally released, were moved to a corner of the gymnasium, and another five were selected. Unlike before, there was strong resistance this time, but it subsided when the Guards on the second floor simultaneously aimed their guns. Come to think of it, with the staff mixed in, there was no way they would recklessly fire from that distance, but it seemed I was the only one here capable of such calm judgment.

‘Fuck, calm judgment my ass.’

I felt like my brain was boiling. It wouldn’t have been strange if I passed out from the stress. The number of people steadily decreased by five. Kibbus was dragged away at some point. He retched again while hanging, but the staff member, without batting an eye, aimed the hose and washed away the vomit.

My turn came. All sorts of emotions had already swept through me. With a mix of resignation and defiance, I hung from the hanger. The high-pressure hose was horrific. My resolve not to scream no matter what broke when the jet of water hit my shrunken genitals. I screamed until my throat was raw. It was an unbearable pain that I couldn’t endure without thrashing my body pointlessly.

I don’t remember when or how it ended.

“Since the slaves this time were selectively chosen, their specs are pretty similar. Let’s just check the details, shall we?”

“There’s a scar on the lower abdomen.”

“The shape is unusual. A gunshot wound?”

“That’s the assumption, but I can’t be certain.”

I vaguely recall hearing a similar conversation.

For the record, it wasn’t a gunshot wound, but a scar from a bicycle accident. I fell while trying to avoid a truck, and it just so happened to be at a construction site, so a sharp iron rod pierced my lower abdomen, and my side was also slightly injured.

The scar on my waist was shallow and had faded to the point of being almost invisible unless examined closely, but my abdomen was different. By some miracle, my internal organs were unharmed, but a peculiar crater-like mark remained. Thinking about it, it was understandable that they mistook it for a gunshot wound.

The doctor recommended a skin graft to remove the scar. But it was an expensive procedure for a desk job investigator’s salary, and since the scar was in an area covered by clothing, I left it as it was.

When I came to, I was in the corner of the gymnasium. I looked down to see a silver ring, which wasn’t there before, dangling around my chest.

My mind went blank. With trembling hands, I picked up the white plastic card attached to the ring. It had ‘C30’ written in large letters, and smaller numbers, presumably body measurements, written below.

If I hadn’t miscounted the number of heads in the dark container, this was the last number. They really are treating us like livestock.

I realized a beat later that my nipples themselves felt strange, aside from the shock and pain.

The vestigial organs, abnormally enlarged, were no exception on me. The small beans I saw every day in the shower had become marshmallows.

…Marshmallows is a bit of an exaggeration, but that’s how it felt to me.

I cursed inwardly. My hands trembled with humiliation. I lifted my bloodshot eyes to see the staff cleaning up. Morer, who had been giving instructions, was approaching.

There was a commotion on the second floor. The Guards straightened their postures. Morer, who had been approaching, also stopped and looked somewhere. A group in white-based uniforms entered en masse. Although unarmed, they exuded a disciplined and trained aura, similar to the Guards. As they lined up in the passageway near the second-floor railing, a man in black pants and a loosely worn white shirt walked in between them.

My jaw dropped. I swear, I have never seen such a beautiful and magnificent beast in my entire life.

His legs were long, and his torso thick. Even with several buttons undone, his shirt looked like it was about to burst. I couldn’t be sure from a distance, but he appeared to be of East Asian descent, with bold, distinct features, and platinum blonde hair. If it wasn’t dyed, it meant he was mixed race.

The man, with a distinct appearance yet an ambiguous presence, walked with a relaxed gait, hands tucked into his pockets.

He gave a slight wave to the awkwardly standing, shocked, or cheering slaves in the spectator seats, then leaned against the railing, resting his arms on it. Eyes, holding an unreadable expression, turned towards us.

“He’s not someone who usually comes here. This is unusual.”

Morer muttered.

“But since you’re here, take a good look. That person is the exception I mentioned among the residents, Mr. Yudhis. He is the island owner’s representative, the undisputed king of the island, wielding the greatest authority here, second only to the owner himself.”

At his words, the drooping heads all snapped up. The man smiled brightly and waved to us below.

The island owner’s representative.

As I engraved that information into my mind, the man looked at me. It wasn’t my imagination. Our eyes definitely met.

His sharp eyes narrowed. The moment his blue eyes, like a sky transitioning between seasons, deepened in color, my vision went dark, and I fainted. I thought I had held on quite a while for a desk job investigator.

When I opened my eyes again, I was alone.

It was a comfortable studio apartment, about 100 square feet, with a bathroom equipped with a shower and proper furniture like a bed, desk, bookshelf, and sofa. As I looked around the room, I noticed a piece of paper on the desk. It briefly outlined the upcoming schedule and precautions.

I skimmed it and placed it back where it was. There was a vertically long window next to the desk. Judging by the fact that the sun hadn’t set yet, I hadn’t been unconscious for that long. I pressed my forehead against the window and looked down. It seemed to be the fourth floor. It would be best to give up on the idea of escaping through the window. Clicking my tongue, I turned and went to the wooden door. I tried the handle just in case, and it turned.

There was no one outside. My hesitation was brief. Although the fact that I was still naked and the image of the floating corpses lingered in my mind, my body was trained as an investigator, even if I was a desk jockey. Above all, the open door felt like a message that it was okay to wander around, diminishing my fear. Swallowing hard, I stepped outside. And five minutes later, I regretted it.

I had come out to the garden, judging it a suitable place to hide, but I was mistaken. The garden was already oversaturated.

How can there be so many people?!

“Uhhn. Mm. Ugh.”

Slap! Slap!

“Ugh!”

“Why aren’t you walking? You’re wasting my time. Do you want to be sent to the East Island for being useless? Lift your ass higher. Higher. Higher! A little more!”

Crack!

“Ahhn!”

I wasn’t so naive as to not understand the meaning of the sounds coming from beyond the bushes.

I couldn’t tell whether I should be grateful for my sensitive ears or stressed out by them.

…Even if I’m stressed, I should be grateful. Thanks to them, I could avoid the guest-slave couples scattered around.

But there was a limit to that. As I turned to avoid a man who was whipping someone frantically, eyes rolled back, I came face to face with another man bouncing his hips like an animal, mounted on a white ass.

Avoiding him, I looked the other way, only to see a tear-soaked slave being trained like a dog. I couldn’t go back the way I came either. A slave, with a collar around his testicles instead of his neck, whimpered and crawled across the grass under his master’s rough touch.

“…..”

I realized I was surrounded. I wiped my face with my hand as if trying to erase the situation.

It wasn’t a matter of pathfinding. There were simply too many people. Some were walking people like they were worse than dogs, others were tying them to trees or statues and violating them. So many people having sex outside in broad daylight, each more diverse and creative than the last. I was truly experiencing the island’s notoriety firsthand.