当サイトの小説は、AI生成文をもとに運営者が編集・加筆したフィクション作品です。著作権は運営者に帰属します。引用や紹介は自由ですが、無断転載・再配布は禁止します。The novels on this site are fiction, based on AI-generated text and edited by the site operator. Copyright belongs to the operator. Quotation and introduction are allowed, but unauthorized reproduction or redistribution is prohibited.
Deep in the mountains at night, all traces of human presence had long vanished. The abandoned factory lay swallowed by darkness. Its rust-eaten walls groaned faintly, throwing back the dull shimmer of moonlight. Through cracks in the shattered windows, a thin breath of wind slipped inside, carrying the cold scent of iron and oil as it stirred the still air.
In one of the rooms, a man was bound tightly to a pillar.
The hem of his suit jacket was rough with dust, and his crooked necktie cut into his throat like a tightening noose. Sweat clung to his round face, glistening under the faint light, and each shallow rise of his chest made his collar strain against his neck. The moon touched his close-cropped hair, carving deeper shadows into the lines of his brow.
His arms were wrenched behind him, lashed without mercy. The rope bit into his upper arms, his wrists, his chest—creaking, grinding—layer upon layer. His thighs and ankles were drawn tight, leaving no room for motion, hardly even for breath. A wad of cloth stuffed into his mouth was bound in place by more rope, coiled round and round. Each movement made the cords squeak and groan, his muffled voice breaking into short, cracked moans. A metallic taste spread in his throat—iron, sweat, and fear.
He was only supposed to be out on business, another ordinary day as a sales manager. Single. Fifty-two. A flat, uneventful life. So why had it ended here, like this? Each flicker of moonlight that slid across the wall tangled his thoughts with fear, tightening around his chest like a second rope.
—It all began by chance.
On my way to a client meeting, a burst of shouting and screams tore through the air. From the jewelry store ahead, masked men came pouring out—a sudden rush, like an avalanche of chaos. Foreign words barked in fury; a blade flashed, sharp and bright as lightning.
Before I knew it, I was standing right in their path. A large man seized my arm—a brutal twist, and cold steel brushed against my throat. The chill froze me instantly, stripping away every thought of resistance. In the next moment I was shoved, like luggage, into the back of a van. The door slammed shut, and with that sound, the world disappeared.
The van left the city lights behind and entered the dark pulse of the mountains. The engine droned in a low, heavy rhythm—gwon, gwon—as the tires rattled over broken road. Time lost its shape; the ticking of the clock, my own sense of it, all dissolved into blackness.
When the vehicle finally stopped, we had reached an abandoned factory, silent as if holding its breath.
The men moved without hesitation. One grabbed a coil of rope from a corner and pulled my arms behind my back, tying them tight. The cords wound around my chest, my legs, creaking as they bit into flesh. My protests were smothered by a rag forced deep into my mouth; each breath came shallow, a thin wheeze rasping at my throat.
They fastened me to a pillar and, with the indifference of men discarding baggage, turned away. Their presence faded—no footsteps, no voices—just absence.
What remained was stillness. Darkness. And myself.
Somewhere inside my chest, my heartbeat kept on—thump, thump—echoing like a lonely sound in the void.
The shape of time had melted away. From outside came the sound of insects—a slow, pulsing drone, rising and falling in the dark. Every so often, the wind made the building creak, and the old window frame rattled with a dry shudder. Each noise sent a thump through my chest; for a fleeting moment, I imagined footsteps returning.
The ropes gnawed at me, their pain seeping inward, steady and deliberate. My arms were numb, my legs cold as ice. The pillar behind me pressed hard into my back, its solidity sinking deep, denying even the illusion of escape. My throat was dry as dust; even swallowing felt dangerous. Hunger stirred like a quiet beast deep in my belly, twisting, tightening my gut with each slow growl.
I tried to twist my body, searching for the slightest slack in the ropes. They didn’t move. Not even a breath’s worth. Each small struggle scraped my skin—a sharp sting, raw and unforgiving. The truth was solid, heavy, unchanging: I couldn’t free myself.
At this rate… I’m going to die here.
The thought echoed in my mind, but the world refused to move. A nameless mountain, a place unseen by any eye. I was just another man, bound and forgotten, locked inside the cage of halted time.
Fear shifted shape, sinking, thickening—becoming quiet despair. Maybe they would never come back. Or maybe they would, only to silence me for good. Either way, there was no future waiting on the other side of these ropes. I knew that. And still, there was nothing I could do.
My strength ebbed away. My breathing grew ragged. When I closed my eyes, the darkness drew closer, ready to swallow me whole. Bound and motionless, I felt my awareness drift— the moonlight flickering once across my vision before it faded into nothing.
That faint trace of light lingered on my fingertips, and with it, I slipped soundlessly into sleep.
