I woke up feeling refreshed and content. As usual, I did not need an alarm for a habit of waking up the exact same time just sticks. I got up from bed heading to the balcony to enjoy the morning air and the gorgeous view. Nothing sobers me up more than nature's beauty.

The villa is situated near a forest and has an amazing view of the surroundings from whichever room you look out from, my room has the best view obviously. It has three floors, with a simple independent garage beside the driveway for my Porsche and another garage outside the villa for anyone else's cars.

The villa is painted white and black and has this homely feeling. The outside is mainly dominated by the white while the apparent pillars on the outside painted black. The roof is tiled and the attic has a window that is rectangle-shaped.

Our villa is not small by any means but it is not gigantic either. Picture a medium-sized beach house but more elegant. The garden is just the right size to fit a pool and still have a place to eat dinner in the open air. While the garage and entrance are distanced from the garden to lessen the noise.

I just love recalling how the place I am living in looks as I peer out onto the forest. I have several estates around the world, both my jobs pay quite handsomely. Not to mention my other job sometimes requires me to travel and as a rule, I only work in places I prepared myself.

I wash up then get dressed into simple training clothes for my daily exercise routine

A light exercise that consists of running and some stretching followed by karate katas. As today is the weekend I have a meeting with my brother rather than the usual office time.

After the exercise, I took a shower and went to the dining hall to eat with my brother. We planned to get some studying at the weekend. On my way I greet Alfred as he seemed to be receiving the groceries, I wondered why Mary the chef was not the one there.

After I sat at the dining table for a bit, Mark walked in with all the grace of a gorilla. My brother is rather unique in having the physique to put a bodybuilder to shame and the wits to make a CEO blush. However, he had this habit to look like a thug even in front of me.

"I was not late this time. Are you proud of me, brother?" he asked teasingly knowing that I disliked wasting time.

"I would have eaten without you." I replied, "Have the books arrived yet?"

"Right on time, you know we can always trust the Shumpteers to get us the most convoluted exotic books."

"Whatever you say, but these books must come from irregular channels."

We were going to study new books from other distinguished families in our line of business. Just as professors publish papers regarding their scientific finds, in our circle each ancient heritage publishes a book every year. In rotations to avoid cramping each other's styles.

The maids set the table as I went over which books arrived with Mark. A rather sumptuous breakfast to provide energy for a productive day. I rather like quotes so bare with me. As the quote goes, 'Eat breakfast like a king, lunch like a prince, and dinner like a pauper.'

We finished breakfast in about 15 minutes, we watched some TV show Mark was following. I am not a fan of watching anything really, I would rather read than watch.

We headed to the study as the books had been delivered to a table outside the study. There are certain places that are forbidden in the villa. The secret door leading to the chamber of truth -torture chamber really-, the study, and the attic.

I believe keeping the secret a door forbidden is self-explanatory as for why the study and attic are the same was not as obvious at first glance. The study has all the records of every story and truth extracted in the truth chamber. It is not illegal but more of preemptive protection against any fraud claims by clients. The attic has the family records as well as previous digitalized truth records.

The study has that victorian library theme, a desk with a comfy chair behind it and surrounded by shelves of books. There are two extra chairs with a mahogany table between them situated in one corner, in the rare instance, my brother joins me. I love being surrounded by books, gives me this sense of belonging like nothing else.

We walked to the study, I opened the door with an iris scan. Although our family has quite the history, keeping up with times is always a necessity. The door clicks open and we went in with the newly arrived books. The books were bundled up in a wooden box with no further security for it.

After all, if anyone does intercept the books, which is nigh impossible with how sophisticated the entire process of delivery was. They are unlikely to take a second look at what looks like boring academic books. The books are not written using any kind of code however every book has a tracker that is set in its spine.

We make ourselves comfortable and each of us reaches for a book. The bundle had three books which indicate that the family which published them had three certified torturers or truth-seekers as is commonly called in our circle.

Time goes by as we read one book after another. After I was done with the third book I looked at my brother to see if he was done. He was frowning slightly at the second book, which was named the wonder of bullet ants.

It seemed like it would take him a few minutes to be done with it. As I waited for him to finish so we discuss the books as per the habit we formed thanks to our parents' advice.

My mind wanders back to when our father sat us, five brothers and two sisters, down and started to tell us about the family profession. He droned on about tradition and what to avoid. This is why I hate lectures, if he had made a book and told me to read it I would have found it more interesting.

Our teenage years were filled with practical training on torture and a lot of psychology courses and tricks to retain our sanity. Among the first things our father told us, is that as ancient heritage we had the highest possibility to extract the truth using a mixture of skill, fear, torture, and insight.

He later gave out a book that each of us would take a turn to read. It discussed that a layman torturer whether it was in a war or in peace can usually have anything from three percent and twenty percent chance of extracting anything from the subject.

Not to mention the possibility of lying increases exponentially if the truth cannot be verified almost immediately, such as a password to a computer for example. There were several warnings about overdoing and overindulging in the profession. It was a fun book to read.

"Are the three books from that bug-famed family?", my brother asked interrupting my thoughts.

I slightly frown while recalling information about the authors as I replied, "I believe so. There is no definite way to confirm if they are the original bug family that rose to fame in 1788 when the first fleet of the British landed in Australia and skirmishes ensued. They were feared for their unique tortures."

"It seems like they took their bugs and went to Japan after some hopping around. They specialized in spiders which Australia and Japan have in abundance."

"They are still among the ancient heritages even if they were only included among our own in the 1800s. It is a shame they were cut off for so long. There were rumors they had arrived in India before the British arrived in 1788."

My brother shook his head: "They cannot be confirmed for they are not the only family to use bugs. Some families use similar ways while not in the know that there others with almost the same technique."

"Whatever you say. Was there anything that interested you among the books?"

"The book called Fear Us had some insect and bug inducing phobias that would put their patients into hysterias and to date, they have the highest success percent to extract the truth. I was wondering If we need to include bugs in our arsenal?"

"Although it is interesting, it will need some experimenting. Have you forgotten our attempt to incorporate our mother's specialty in poisons in one of our sessions?"

Mark started to laugh hysterically once he remembered that incident. After a while, he said, "Ah yes that was one of the funniest mistakes we did. Thankfully we were still in our apprenticeship days. Just imagine if a client was watching as their guest slowly started to eat himself alive. That was an amazing concoction of hallucinogens and LSD."

I chuckled embarrassedly, "It was quite a sight to behold when our mother came in and saw what happened to the guest. She was furious that her own sons couldn't use her best arsenal, poison."

I looked at the clock right by the window, we have been in the study for almost two hours. How time flies when one is having fun, I lamented.

"We need to wrap this up.", I said.

"No worries, I know tick tock. Your time is precious. The last book was nothing valuable at all but rather certain remedies to bug and insect bites. Almost everyone has antidotes for this sort of stuff."

I objected, "Their remedies had venoms and herbal poisons, it has some potential to grow considering how rich the forest is with the sort of creatures. Maybe in other countries, this book will be much appreciated."

"Doubtful considering that without remedies any country with forest will have a constant stream of poisoned people. So everyone has their own way to solve the problem."

"Do not forget that the medications involved in treating the injuries caused by the bullet ants, in the first book, are rather interesting. It is a combination of herbal concoctions and incense, a popular combination in eastern medicine practices. Its lack of popularity in the west is for a practical reason though, the variety of herbs available is a sight for sore eyes."

"So eastern medicine versus south American one, that would be an interesting showdown."

After some more back and forth about possible experimenting, we ended our meeting in a quarter of an hour.

The rest of the day was my enjoyable weekend routine of reading varied books, a leisurely paced reading compared to the one in the morning. Then another exercising routine that involved weight lifting, and sparring with my brother. After another shower, I had lunch alone as my brother had some errands to run.

In the evening I had an appointment with an acquaintance. We were meeting at a cafe, of course, I was early for ten minutes. Surprisingly, she was already there.

As I entered the cafe I noticed her sitting by the window. The tables were all squared and the ones by the window had sofas on both sides. The tables had decent space between them, just enough to not feel suffocated as you pass and not too far to feel deserted.

Ellaine is eye-catching, it is not her beauty but her tattoos really. She has this gangster vibe. She was taller than me by a bit but looked lean like a boxer. Her shoulders were neither too narrow nor too broad, she kept her hair short and purple.

She had a captivating phoenix tattoo over her neck, arms and back. The tattoo looked like she was a phoenix turned human, her arms had vivid feather-like wings wrapping around them, her neck had the phoenix neck which in my opinion looked weird.

Her back, although not bare, I recalled it had the wings of the phoenix as it dripped fire and lava. The wings look like they were raining fire upon the earth as the earth was tattooed right below the wings. The colors were a mix of red and orange.

I walked towards her as I got there she noticed my approach, she smiled curtly and waved the waiter for us to order. She knew I always ordered the same thing at any cafe.

She ordered two ice coffees for us, I now knew she meant business as she usually gets an espresso. I sat opposite her marveling at how she had not changed a bit since I last saw her. Her hazelnut eyes looked tired though. Her face looks rugged but has this captivating charisma that compels you to just listen to her.

"You look well, Jack.", she started once the waiter was gone.

"So do you, Ellaine. You look like you aged a bit, not enough sleep?"

She scoffed, "Oh please! I will die long after you."

We caught up about how her work has been doing. She worked as a bodyguard for certain people who are under the radar. Like really under the radar, who are either wanted by the law, somehow once represented the law but faked their deaths and so on.

She always has the most amusing of tales. Of course, her clients are supposed to be confidential but she and I know that not a word of our talks would get out. We talked for a while waiting for the drinks.

Once the waiter brought the drinks, she put her game face on. She waited until he was gone, took a sip of the iced coffee her eyes squinted in enjoyment. She always had a sweet tooth.

"Looks like storytime is over, are you ready to tell me how I might help?", I started off in her stead. She was always terrible at asking favors.

"Ah!" she exclaimed in mock indignation, saying "Can't I meet my brother without adding onto his plate?"

"Of course you can't! You would always be up to those shenanigans and you would get away with them as the youngest of us. Not to mention you specifically asked me to not tell Mark. I know you know, he will know and we both know he won't like it."

"Okay okay! You got me." she laughed then sipped her coffee, continuing: "A client of mine requires special service."

"And? I can get prepared for a session anytime, hell I can even postpone planned ones for you. Now, what is so special that you would come yourself instead of phoning ahead?"

She squinted at me as if she was choosing her words and said, "It is not the usual business. A rather eccentric client who is in the know wants a ..."

She trailed off as if she was embarrassed by what follows. I pushed her, "Come on, out with it."

"He wants a book."

"I am sure I can help him choose a fine book about whatever subject, I do have a scholarly reputation."

"Not the kind that can be bought. He wants a book about truth-seekers, more specifically about your new approach that you have been using. He has heard about you and your books, the ones you wrote for the 5-year tradition."

Of all the things she could have said, I did not expect that. I was truly surprised by such an eccentric request. And even more surprised she did not see how arduous doing something like this will be, for me especially.

"El, you know the rules. Even if the clients know there is a limit to how much they do. Besides the council controls the distribution of such books if word gets out, the consequences won't be light."

"It has been taken care of, you worrywart. He has contacts within the council and they have given in to his request. All that remains is which torturer is to be written about. They limited him to choose only one and since you tend to use a variety of techniques both orthodox and unorthodox, he thought you were the best choice."

Damn her and her talkative nature. I know she somehow threw me to the wolves since even if I am known for using various techniques, not many know of how much I can do except for few. She is among the few.

"What is the reward?", I asked.

"There are three rewards. I nagged him to put in one that will definitely convince you. First is a million dollars which are like ten-sessions in value. Second is an antique Iron maiden originally made in 1600, its condition is not the best but a good artwork. Finally, the one that I am sure will compel you to take the job, a book."

She stopped talking and smiled cheekily at me. She knew me too well, I love reading and collecting books to a fault and if she looked so sure then it must be something amazing. I scratched my cheek feeling annoyed she did not say the name of the book.

"I have an urge to refuse just to wipe this cheeky grin off your face."

Her smile widened as she said, "You will forever regret it then. The book is the diary of Elizabeth Báthory. I need not tell you who she is, do I?"

I almost stood up in shock. That was the Blood countess, the legendary serial killer. Most of her belongings were either lost or sold. She had some very interesting ways of torture. It looked like an offer I cannot refuse.

I smiled sheepishly to El's cocky grin and said, "Tell me the details."