The first pale, grey light of dawn slowly crept through the intricately carved wooden lattice windows of the Prime Minister's opulent estate. Outside, the estate was perfectly serene, the picture of aristocratic elegance.
Inside the master bedroom, it was a literal slaughterhouse of human dignity.
Smack.
A heavy, blood-stained leather whip was violently thrown to the hardwood floor. It coiled like a dead snake at the Prime Minister's feet.
The Prime Minister stood over the trembling figure on the ground, his chest heaving with exertion. His immaculate, expensive silk robes were completely disheveled, his face twisted into a grotesque, demonic mask of pure, unfiltered rage. The polished, calculating scholar of the imperial court was entirely gone, replaced by the sadistic monster he truly was behind closed doors.
