(Ugh, I thought the last time was the worst I've seen. But now I think that the worst is yet to come)
Alex's body felt like it was made of stone. (I can't deny it now. How on earth are you enduring this, man?)
The cold stone floor beneath him offered no comfort, but at least it was firm. (If it makes you feel better Alex, this non-existent soul is offering you comfort. It's just that you can't feel it). The moment he collapsed after finishing the last of his tasks—his vision swimming with hunger and exhaustion—he knew he had no choice but to sleep. His eyes were too heavy to keep open, and his muscles burned with fatigue. (I bet prisons are better than this.)
But the sleep he longed for wasn't restful. It was a brief, fitful escape before the cycle began again. (Oh dear Alex, you can let yourself loose. Don't keep the frustration in. Curse all you want. I won't censor you. I don't mind even if I get on the guillotine if you let yourself relax now.)
(Please, I beg you. Just say something Alex. This is too concerning.)
The first thing he became aware of was the biting cold. The blankets, the ones that had been thrown over him, were stiff and thin, barely offering any warmth. (Alex, can I hug you? But you won't feel it even if I do. Should I?). He tried to move, but the moment he shifted, a sharp pain shot through his back. His body was stiff from hours of sitting, studying, standing, and moving without rest. The mental fog in his mind made it difficult to focus, but he forced himself to get up, despite the tremor in his limbs. (Oh god, come on, let him rest)
His stomach growled in protest. It was a sound he'd gotten used to by now. The hunger gnawed at him, hollowing out his insides. (How much longer are you planning to starve him now? Don't you think a month is enough. It is beyond human reason to starve him any further you torturers. Look at him, its so painful to call this boy a Pig anymore. I regret everything I said before)
And just like that, he was being dragged back into the torture.
A sharp voice rang through the darkness of the room. "Get up, Alex. Time to start."
Lorelei's voice. (I hate you) Always cold, always calculating. He opened his eyes to see her standing over him, an unreadable expression on her face. Behind her stood Julian, leaning against the doorway with his usual indifference, and Seraphina(I hate you too), her sharp eyes scanning him like she was analyzing a test subject. (Your brother is your test subject? You should go to the mental hospital for insanity. I swear no human should be a test subject and even worse you should never make your family a test subject)
Alex could barely keep his eyes open. His body screamed for rest. The harsh lights overhead only amplified the ache in his skull. The last thing he wanted was to move. (I want to cry. But I can't. I think I went over why before. I can't remember because seeing Alex like this is like being buried alive)
"I said, get up." Lorelei's tone left no room for negotiation. (I pray for your imminent end to be as painful as possible)
He groaned, struggling to sit up, his joints creaking in protest. Every movement felt like an immense effort, but he forced himself to stand. The world spun slightly, his vision unfocused, but he forced himself to concentrate. There was no other choice. (There is no other choice? Alex go slap them!)
His stomach churned again, this time with a desperation far worse than before. The hunger was relentless, but they wouldn't let him eat, not until they were satisfied with his work. Even after completing the endless tasks yesterday—memorizing endless lists, taking political exams, and enduring simulation after simulation—he was given nothing. No reward. No rest. (Alex. Come on. Don't give up now. Break their simulations or something. Do a strip dance in that menace Julian's diplomatic simulation. I'm sure the virtual diplomats won't mind)
"You failed to perform well enough yesterday," Lorelei said, almost as if reading his thoughts. "You're still not doing enough to earn a break. So today, you'll learn the consequences of your incompetence." (I hope your future consequences for this will be worse)
Alex swallowed thickly, but he didn't say anything. There was nothing left to say. The game had changed—he was no longer in control. He had never been. (I hope you will control this one day. I hope you will end them)
Julian pushed away from the doorframe, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and coldness. "Don't expect to eat until we see some improvement. You wanted to laze around your entire life, playing games and watching shows. Now you'll learn what it really means to be a king." (I agree he lounged through his life like a true otaku prince until now but this is too much)
Alex wanted to retort, to fight back. But the words wouldn't come. Every inch of his body ached. His muscles were stiff, his head pounded, and the hunger clawed at him, demanding attention. But even worse, the guilt gnawed at him—this wasn't just some cruel joke anymore. This was the reality of his life now, and he had no way to escape it. (I have no comment. I will never ever disrespect you again Alex. You deserve to be the otaku prince you are. Just get out of here and live that life again. It's okay. Let these retards spew their own ambitions to someone else)
Seraphina's lips curled into a faint smirk as she approached him, her eyes cold and calculating. "You will learn what your incompetence costs. If you collapse again, we'll start from scratch. We will push you until you break." (I hope you'll break them in return one day, Alex)
Alex barely heard the rest of her words. His mind was too clouded, his thoughts a jumble of despair and anger, but mostly fear. Fear of failure, fear of what they would do to him if he couldn't endure this. His siblings—each one of them—were pushing him further than he ever thought he could go. (Aaagh, I am going insane seeing this!)
And worse—he realized in that moment—he couldn't even remember why he'd resisted this. Why had he fought it so hard? What was left to live for but this miserable, grueling training? (No no no Alex. Don't give up. Just do the strip dance in torturer #2's diplomatic simulation and you'll feel better)
"On your feet," Lorelei barked. "We've got work to do." (Strip dance in the simulation. Ignore her.)
Without another word, she gestured to a series of complex political strategies on the chalkboard behind her. The task ahead was monumental, something that made Alex's already-sore head throb even more. But he had no choice. If he couldn't perform, there would be consequences. Worse than the hunger. Worse than the exhaustion. (Easy strategies Alex, just choose war over everything. Foyer is massive and will win in a heartbeat)
As if on cue, the doors to the training room were slammed open, and several royal advisors entered, all with hard eyes and stern expressions. They began to brief Alex on international relations, on the fragile alliances of the kingdom. The words blended together in a haze as his brain struggled to keep up. (Go on try and declare war in this mock brief. Scare your torture-lings)
But it wasn't just the knowledge that exhausted him. It was the way they pushed him, giving him no space to breathe, no time to rest. They didn't care that he was already on the edge of collapse. It was as if they wanted to drive him to his breaking point. (NO! Don't break! Just plan what your revenge will be like. Take deep breaths. Perseverance is key, Alex)
Hours passed—how many, Alex didn't know—and the tasks kept coming, each one more difficult than the last. He made mistakes, of course. Mistakes that caused them to raise their voices in frustration. And every mistake added more weight to his burden. (No! Don't think of this as a burden, take it as your stepping stone to revenge)
The pressure was unbearable. (I agree but don't let that get you Alex)
At some point, he did collapse. His body simply couldn't take it anymore. His knees buckled beneath him, and he crumpled to the ground, his head spinning, vision blacking out from the intensity of it all. (I wish I could burn these torturers alive)
But instead of showing him mercy, instead of allowing him a moment to rest, they were there in an instant. Lorelei grabbed his arm, lifting him roughly from the ground. Her grip was like iron, her face cold with disdain. (I am horrified at your acts of vileness and pray for your imminent end)
"Get up, Alex. We don't stop until you perform perfectly," she spat. (I spat at you too, you jerk. I hope my spit stank)
Alex's throat tightened as she yanked him back to his feet, too weak to fight back, too weak to even lift his head. His whole body trembled, and his heart raced from exhaustion.
No. He couldn't take this anymore. He was done.
But they didn't care. They never did. (I care Alex. I care. Even though you can't see me. Even though I don't exist. Don't deteriorate your mental health over them. They don't deserve it)
As they dragged him back to his seat, forcing him to continue his tasks without so much as a moment's rest, Alex realized that he was trapped. He had no choice but to obey, no choice but to keep going, even if it meant losing himself in the process. The crown was his, whether he wanted it or not. And they would make sure he paid for every moment he had wasted. (Yes, take revenge. Make them pay hundredfold of this pain, Alex. Make sure to.)