Basement
At this moment, Andrew was drowning in complete despair. The small basement contained nothing except a toilet and a narrow bed.
His hands and feet were bound by heavy chains, severely restricting his movement. He felt like a pet confined to a cage.
He didn't want to die. He desperately wanted to live.
Creak.
Just as Andrew sat lost in thought, teetering on the edge of a mental breakdown, a soft sound echoed through the space.
The heavy iron door swung open from the outside.
Jacob and two others, all wearing masks, slowly entered the basement.
The moment Andrew saw Jacob appear, a spark of hope flickered in his despairing eyes. He looked up at Jacob with a fawning expression. "Please, let me go. You promised that if I gave you everything, you'd release me. I've already given you everything I have."
Andrew continued pleading, his voice desperate and pitiful. He looked nothing like the domineering figure who had ruled the casino.
"If I promised to let you go, then naturally I will," Jacob said, his voice carrying a playful tone. His gaze settled on the disheveled Andrew. After a brief pause, he continued, "However, what you've already given isn't enough to buy your freedom. You need to pay an additional ransom."
"I'll pay! I'll pay whatever you want! Just name your price, and I'll pay it!" Hearing that money could solve this problem, Andrew responded eagerly. "As long as you let me go, I'll agree to any condition you set."
"Very good. I appreciate your cooperative attitude," Jacob said with a smile as he looked down at Andrew.
"Now, you're going to call your father. Your father is a Champion of the British Empire, isn't he? I'm quite curious to see how much ransom he'll pay to save his son. As long as your father pays enough, releasing you won't be a problem at all."
"My father will definitely pay! As long as you let me go, money isn't an issue! My dad's number is..." Andrew quickly rattled off the number.
Sylvia dialed the number Andrew provided while simultaneously encrypting the call.
Beep.
The phone rang only twice before someone picked up.
"Hello. Good afternoon." A woman's voice came from the other end of the line.
"I'm looking for Champion Meyer," Jacob said. His voice had been processed by computer software, transforming it into a synthesized electronic tone.
"May I ask what this is regarding?" Upon hearing this strange voice, the woman frowned slightly but maintained her professional demeanor.
"Please inform Champion Meyer that his son, Andrew, is currently with me." After saying this, Jacob immediately handed the phone to Andrew, signaling him to speak.
"Mckenna, save me! Quickly, let my dad answer the phone!"
As Andrew's panicked voice rang out, Mckenna on the other end froze. Just as she was about to respond, another voice came through the line.
"In exactly one hour, I will make another video call. Please inform Champion Meyer that if he doesn't want Mr. Andrew to suffer any unfortunate accidents, he should answer the video call promptly. Otherwise... Mr. Andrew might end up permanently disabled."
"No! Mckenna, you have to tell my dad! I..."
Andrew tried to say more, but the call was abruptly disconnected.
"You can rest for a while. I'll be back in half an hour," Jacob told Andrew.
Then the three of them walked out of the basement together, leaving an increasingly desperate Andrew behind.
"I think we should get custom masks made. These random masks we're wearing look ridiculous and affect our presence," Jacob said after exiting the basement. He removed his mask and rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he addressed the two people beside him.
"Then what kind of mask do you want? A Yamask like God's Coffin uses?" Raya replied with irritation in her voice.
"How about masks with flame patterns?"
"It's up to you. After all, you're the boss."
"I think that could work."
An hour could feel either long or short, depending on one's circumstances.
For Jacob, it passed like a brief rest period. For Andrew, it felt like an eternity of suffering.
Creak.
When the iron door of the basement opened once more, Andrew felt a surge of hope. He quickly scrambled to his feet to greet them, a fawning smile plastered across his face.
As long as he could survive, dignity meant nothing to him anymore.
Jacob and the other two, still wearing their masks, entered the cramped space. Sylvia walked to the table, set up the laptop, and positioned the camera carefully.
Jacob checked the time. Almost exactly one hour had passed. He nodded to Sylvia.
Sylvia nodded back and initiated the video call.
Beep!
The video call was answered almost immediately.
On the screen appeared a tall, middle-aged man with a full beard. Gold-rimmed glasses sat on his nose, and his bulging muscles strained against his shirt.
This was Champion Meyer, one of the four Champions of the British Empire.
"Champion Meyer, hello," Jacob said politely. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
"Where is Andrew?" Meyer's presence was commanding. His brows furrowed, giving him an air of authority even without displaying anger.
Even though Jacob held Andrew's life in his hands, Meyer still took control of the conversation, speaking first.
"It seems Champion Meyer is quite concerned about Andrew's safety. In that case..." Jacob said, then rotated the camera to face Andrew. "Andrew, say hello to your father."
"Father, save me! You have to save me!" Andrew shouted desperately at Meyer through the screen.
"Andrew." Meyer carefully observed his son, and upon confirming that Andrew hadn't suffered any visible harm, he breathed a sigh of relief. "Calm down. I will bring you back."
"Alright." After allowing this brief exchange, Jacob rotated the camera back to face himself. "You've seen Andrew's condition. He's perfectly fine. Now, let's discuss business."
"Champion Meyer, we're going to play a little game now." Jacob's tone carried a frivolous, playful quality, like a cynical troublemaker. "I'm going to write a ransom amount on this piece of paper. Then you'll make your offer. Champion Meyer, please demonstrate your greatest sincerity with your bid and do your best to redeem Mr. Andrew with money. Otherwise, Mr. Andrew might suffer a permanent disability."
"You only have one chance to make an offer. If your bid is only one-fourth of my desired price, then I can only return one of his hands or feet to you."
"For every additional quarter you meet, I'll return an additional limb."
"If you meet or exceed my expected ransom amount, congratulations! You'll receive a completely intact Mr. Andrew, and he'll return home safely."
"Finally, you can also choose not to pay any ransom at all. If you make that choice, I can only try my best to send Andrew back to you in one piece. After all, mailing corpses is illegal."
Jacob's tone at this moment sounded disturbingly twisted, causing Meyer's brows to furrow deeper and his expression to grow increasingly dark.
This was the first time Meyer had encountered such a bizarre method of ransom negotiation, and this approach placed tremendous pressure on him.
It essentially forced him to pay as much ransom as possible.