Outside the house, Kafka had already let go of the arrogant creep's hand in a hurry, like he was avoiding the plague, and he silently walked towards the small garden that Camila had made in front of her house with an emotionless look on his pale face, that looked like there wasn't even a single drop of blood flowing through it.
The man himself was scared stiff when he saw a guy pop out of nowhere and grab his hand so hard that it hurt even after letting him go. He also didn't dare to look into his eyes, as for some reason when he looked at Kafka's face, his heart trembled and made him look down in a fright.
But after thinking about it for a second, he thought that Kafka was probably just Bella's little brother who had come out to save her big sister since he looked quite young and wasn't someone that he needed to worry about.
He didn't even consider that Kafka could be Bella's significant other since he believed that no one other than himself was worthy of Bella, and he walked towards Bella's 'little brother' to confront him and teach him a lesson for laying his hands on his soon-to-be brother-in-law.
"Hey, do you think that you're a big guy the moment you try to help your little sister out!?" The scoundrel shouted at Kafka with an irritated look on his face, while Kafka himself ignored him and silently looked at the garden near his feet like he was searching for something. "Do you think you're so great for coming out of nowhere and pushing me out of your house?!"
"Well, listen here, you punk, since I'm going to be the one taking care of your sister in the future, so if you don't give me the respect I deserve right now, there's no knowing just what I might do to your sister when she's in my abode and vent my frustration on her in your place...Hey! I'm talking to you; can't you hear me, I-...Krshh!~"
The man was about to grab a hold of Kafka's shoulders and turn him around in a rage, seeing as he was ignoring his threat and continuing to stare at the ground without moving a muscle. But he froze in his place with a horrified look on his face, like he had just seen a monster, when all of a sudden Kafka folded his hand like it was a knife and bent down to stab it into the ground below.
Krshh!~
Before he could even think to step back, Kafka vanished in an instant. A sudden, sharp kick to his ankles sent him sprawling, and he crashed backwards onto the unforgiving ground. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs, leaving him stunned and disoriented, staring up at the spot where Kafka had just been.
Despite the searing pain from his back smashing against the jagged rocks, he forced himself to move, driven by the primal instinct to survive. Yet his efforts were futile. Out of nowhere, a pale white hand clamped over his mouth, its grip ironclad. The hand wrenched his jaw open with a brutal force, prying it wide.
His eyes widened in sheer terror, staring into the void, bracing for the horrors that were about to unfold.
Kafka's face emerged from the shadows beside him, crouching down with an unsettling calm. In his hand, Kafka held the centipedes, dangling them inches above the man's face. The sight of the writhing creatures sent waves of panic through him, and he thrashed wildly, kicking his legs in a desperate attempt to flee.
The sheer repulsiveness of the centipedes made his stomach churn, but Kafka's unyielding grip silenced his cries and stifled any hope of escape. No matter how he struggled, the man's efforts were in vain, held fast by Kafka's overpowering strength.
Terror seized him as Kafka slowly, almost methodically, lowered his hand, clutching the ends of the centipedes towards his gaping mouth. He stared in disbelief at the boy, who seemed far too young to be capable of such malevolence, convincing himself that Kafka was merely trying to scare him with the insects.
But Kafka's intentions were far darker. With unnerving calm, Kafka inched the squirming creatures closer until they brushed against the man's tongue. His body shuddered involuntarily as the chilling reality sank in: this was no mere threat. He was being forced to confront a nightmare far beyond his imagination.
Slowly, Kafka pried the man's mouth wider, and, with precise, deliberate movements, he allowed the centipedes to slide further inside. And as the creatures disappeared past his lips, Kafka swiftly grabbed the man's hand and pressed it against his mouth, holding it tightly in place as if to ensure the centipedes couldn't escape, turning the man's own hand into a prison for his nightmarish ordeal...