This is a Different Price

Electric current surged through him, a stinging, numbing sensation sweeping across his entire body.

Bound to the electric chair, Coleman's expression remained composed.

He even had the leisure to gaze lazily at his torturer.

"Honestly, Father, can't we find another way to punish me?"

Excessive electric shocks would make his hands tremble, and it would take at least half a day to fully recover.

If that happened, how was he supposed to sew his suits?

An artist who always pursued perfection would never settle for a suit designed by someone else!

Coleman Zoldyck, the boy who considered himself a born artist, thought to himself.

As for the torturer, Silva Zoldyck—the father of Illumi and Coleman—his expression was currently hideous.

He couldn't help but feel a sense of doubt deep down.

Why weren't the electric shocks working on this brat?

He remembered clearly that when his own father shocked him, it had been quite effective!

With brows locked tight and a face full of sternness, he looked at first glance like an unreasonable, strict father.

Severe, perhaps even harsh.

But having known countless people in his past life, Coleman could sense that this old father was currently lost in confusion.

If he let him figure it out now, his future days would only become more miserable.

He didn't want that!

How could an elegant gentleman be subjected to constant electric shocks and lashings?

A gentleman should always be spotless, always clean.

Thinking this, Coleman chose to reason with his old father, who was currently caught in a whirlpool of parenting struggles.

"Father, I don't think all of this is necessary."

As he spoke, he cast a glance at the 'weapons' in the torture chamber.

Silva was drawn in by his words, his brows knitting even tighter.

Are you trying to challenge my authority?

"Coleman, you shouldn't be violating the assassin's code!"

His opening remark was a flat denial.

To be honest, this method of education was extremely poor.

However, considering this was his old father's first time being a dad, Coleman magnanimously chose to forgive him.

"Very well, Father. I believe the assassin's code is perfectly reasonable, whether it's about being fast, accurate, and ruthless, or leaving no traces behind."

Finally hearing his son concede, Silva's expression softened slightly.

Although his heart was filled with pride for the growth of his two sons, he still had to keep a straight face.

Especially with his youngest son.

He was simply too reckless!

To actually linger at a crime scene for so long, and even toy with the target!

If the opponent had been strong enough, or if reinforcements had arrived in time, he could have easily met his end in the gutter!

Therefore, this time, he had to make him learn his lesson!

Spare the rod, spoil the child.

This was an immutable method of education.

At the very least, that was the case for the Zoldyck Family.

If they didn't listen, a few days of torture would fix it.

If a few days weren't enough, then a few months.

Use it until they were submissive.

Moreover, this could also train their tolerance.

It killed many birds with one stone!

Silva walked over to the tools, picking and choosing, until he finally selected a thin chain that looked quite handy.

This would hurt much more than a regular whip when it struck a person.

He hoped this would make him learn his lesson.

Having chosen his weapon, Silva looked up and signaled the servant.

The servants moved with practiced efficiency, unbinding the young master from the electric chair and securing him to the wooden cross.

Coleman couldn't help but twitch the corner of his mouth.

After weighing his options, he sighed; Coleman decided it was best to let his father vent his anger first.

Silva spoke up, "Are you ready?"

Coleman nodded indifferently.

After all, his pain receptors were not quite like those of others.

Excessive pain did nothing but excite him; it brought him no discomfort whatsoever.

It only made him crave the act of killing and the taste of blood all the more.

Lash by lash, the whipping—which looked agonizing to any observer—continued for an hour.

Yet, Coleman maintained the exact same expression.

A noble young master.

One had to admire Silva's arm strength; he had swung the two-meter-long chain with force for an entire hour, yet he remained refreshed, showing not the slightest sign of fatigue.

Stopping, Silva spoke once more.

"Do you still intend to carry out your so-called art?"

Coleman chose to avoid the topic, yet he did not talk back, instead asking about another matter.

"Father, I am curious, why do you dislike this art?"

Hearing his son's puzzled inquiry, Silva, who had intended to continue the whipping, suddenly shifted his thoughts and chose to explain.

"An assassin family cannot afford to have flaws."

Oh, I see. He believes my actions might lead to a failed assassination, thereby damaging the family's reputation.

In that case...

"But Father, don't you think that if I do this, it will bring a more intimidating influence to the family?"

Coleman said with a smile.

The suit on his body was in tatters, whipped until only strips of fabric remained.

Yet, this did not affect his demeanor or his words.

He maintained his excellent, even superior, etiquette and posture, asking in a humble and respectful tone.

It was as if this upbringing were carved into his very bones.

An inexplicable elegance.

It was as if, no matter when or where he found himself, he could always maintain his best state.

Silva fell into deep thought, contemplating his youngest son's words.

If this could bring greater deterrence and stop those low-life assassins or bounty hunters who were always jumping around from provoking the family, then letting Coleman engage in such trivialities wasn't entirely out of the question.

As for whether this brat could escape if a mission failed because of it?

Did that even need to be asked?

This kid had escaped from under his own nose more times than he could count, let alone from the pursuit of the trash out there!

Truth be told, Silva was somewhat tempted.

After all, no one enjoyed encountering a group of blind idiots at their own doorstep.

Dealing with trash once a week was enough; dealing with it every single day was truly annoying!

"Furthermore, we could also take on some peculiar assassination missions because of this, such as those where the employer requests that the target be tortured," Coleman continued his proposal.

"An extra line of work means we can charge a separate fee!"