Pitbabe S2, Chapter 35 pg 3
Pitbabe S2, Chapter 35 pg 3
For the first time, I felt like Kenta and I were on the same side. Even though he didn’t explicitly say he wanted to join me, I sensed his sincerity, despite having no proof beyond his words and rebellious attitude. Maybe it was just an act to win me over, but… I don’t know. My gut told me I wasn’t wrong.
“When I stabbed him that day, I was sure he was dead. I didn’t intentionally miss any vital spots.” One of my long-standing questions was answered out of nowhere. I’d always wondered how Tony survived when I saw with my own eyes that Kenta had plunged the knife in deep, blood pooling on the floor. No matter how you looked at it, he shouldn’t have survived. Every news outlet loudly confirmed the death of the big-shot tycoon. No one suspected he was still alive. If he hadn’t approached me himself, I would’ve believed he was truly dead.
“But he’s still alive because he’s not an ordinary person.”
Something that was once broken and misshapen has now been filled in, forming a complete picture—a picture that makes sense and explains the entire world with piercing clarity.
“That bastard Tony is special, just like you guys.”
Kenta calling him “that bastard Tony” instead of “sir” feels a bit odd, but I have to admit it’s satisfying. Whether intentional or not, that choice of words quickly boosts my trust in him.
“You mean he’s got a sense too?”
“Of course. How else could he run this kind of shady, high-profile business?” Kenta replies. “Controlling hundreds of people with senses? If he didn’t have something special, he wouldn’t be able to keep them in line.”
The more Kenta talks, the more the questions I’ve long ignored start getting answered one by one. The truth is, it’s unlikely that every person with a sense would choose to stay loyal to Tony out of devotion. Sure, there are some who love him like he’s their real father. Then there’s the second group—those who stay because they have nowhere else to go. Some senses don’t grant power or make it easier to fit into society. Many with senses were taken as children, with no family or friends to return to. Raised by Tony’s people from a young age, they never consider leaving. Even if they wanted to, they wouldn’t dare. From day one, they’re brainwashed to believe the outside world is dangerous for people with senses—that they’d never be accepted, only exploited, deceived, or hunted for profit. Facing the unknown is terrifying for them, so most believe staying with the people who raised them is the safest choice.
The third group consists of those too scared to defy him because of his threats. Back when I was in the house, I constantly heard that escaping was a grave offense. If an escapee was caught, they’d be thrown into the “dark room,” and no one knew what happened there, but it definitely wasn’t a place for rest and relaxation. If someone managed to escape successfully, their family, relatives, friends, or anyone close to them left behind would face the consequences. I once overheard guards talking about a family whose house was burned down, with the parents and younger brother of an escaped kid dying together just days after the escape.
I was lucky, in a way, when I escaped. I had no relatives or acquaintances, so I bore the full brunt of the consequences alone. At least I survived.
But beyond those three types, I forgot there’s another group hiding in the shadows: those who stay for personal gain. I’ve never met this group before, but it’s highly likely Tony sold them some kind of dream, enticing them to stay for a promised payoff. From what Kenta’s hinted at, I’m guessing there are quite a few of them.
“I’ve never seen him do anything impressive,” I say, trying to recall any possibilities about Tony’s sense, but no matter how hard I think, nothing seems plausible. “Someone like him wouldn’t let a tool in his hands go to waste. Why wouldn’t he use his sense?”
“Because his sense only works under specific conditions,” Kenta explains.
“What does that mean?” I ask, confused. In all my life, I don’t think I’ve ever encountered a sense like this, so I can’t even imagine what these “specific conditions” might be.
“That bastard Tony can’t die.”
Kenta’s answer was clear enough to resolve some doubts, but it also tied several new knots in my mind.
“You mean… he’s immortal?”
“More like semi-immortal,” Kenta replied, before explaining further. “He can die like anyone else, but his body has a mechanism that lets him come back—his own blood.”
“Blood?”
“Yeah, just half a drop or less. If it gets into his mouth when he’s near death or within half an hour after he stops breathing, he’ll revive. His body heals back to its peak condition, as good as new.”
So I was right to never have seen Tony use his abilities before—how many times would you catch him actually dying? Even the time I saw his corpse with my own eyes wasn’t a true death. None of us there bothered to notice how Tony’s body might’ve changed after he was stabbed and fell. We were too caught up in our own mess, letting that devil cheat death successfully.
“His blood is the key. As long as he gets his own blood, he won’t stay dead. But it only works for him—giving it to someone else won’t bring them back.”
“Damn… that’s insanely unfair,” I groaned. I already thought dealing with Tony was a headache, but now it was way more than that. The enemy I wanted to take down most was this near-invincible bastard who just wouldn’t die. “So he’s gonna keep pulling this crap forever? Even after I’m dead, he’ll still be around?”
“No, he can die,” Kenta said calmly. His answer confused me again, completely contradicting what he’d just said. “I told you, if the blood gets in his mouth in time, he survives. Which means if we stop him from getting that blood, it’s over.”
“Sounds like you’re making it seem easy.”
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