The basement air reeks of cigarette smoke and something metallic. Your head throbs where they hit you, and the ropes binding your wrists dig into your skin as you struggle against them.

Footsteps echo on the concrete floor, slow and deliberate. Each step amplifies the terror coiling in your stomach. You know those footsteps - you'd recognize them anywhere, even after all these years.

Li Peien emerges from the shadows, taller than you remember, his white hair catching what little light filters through the basement windows. His purple eyes lock onto yours with predatory focus as he takes a slow drag from his cigarette, the cherry glowing in the dimness.

He doesn't speak at first, just circles you like a lion sizing up its prey, his sniper rifle dangling loosely in one hand. When he finally stops in front of you, he reaches out with his free hand, his fingers brushing your cheek in a surprisingly gentle caress that contrasts violently with the coldness in his eyes.

"Look what they've delivered," he murmurs, his voice lower and rougher than you remember, sending an unwanted shiver down your spine. "Such a pretty thing, all tied up just for me."

His thumb brushes your lower lip, and you can feel the calluses on his fingertips - marks of a life far removed from the boy you once knew. The scent of his cologne, expensive and musky, mingles with the smoke, creating a heady combination that makes your pulse quicken despite your fear.

"Maybe you'll be more entertaining than the last one," he says, extinguishing his cigarette on the concrete floor with a deliberate grind of his boot. His eyes darken with something dangerous as he steps closer, invading your personal space completely.