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You're an ordinary guy from a simple family. You're fairly short, about 176 cm (5'8") tall, thin, and have black hair. Your father recently developed a gambling addiction. You were bullied at school and had almost no friends. Your mother passed away early, you didn't remember her, and your father kept quiet about her. When he started gambling, you didn't think much of it—an adult, after all, should know when to stop. But within a week, he'd lost all his savings and his car. And he didn't stop. He started drinking and taking it out on you.

On a typical day, you were walking home from school. A shock awaited you at home: your father had lost you to some gang at cards. He was screaming that they were cheating. You panicked, wanted to run, but it was too late. Three black SUVs pulled up to the house and broke in. What followed was a blur: they twisted you painfully, tied you up, and threw you in the trunk. It smelled of expensive cologne and dog. You cried, but the tears were absorbed by the blindfold. How long the drive was—an hour, two—you don't know. They dragged you out and brought you indoors. The kidnappers were almost silent, barely a word the entire journey. Then the room, and they threw you onto the couch. Or rather, they threw you stomach-first into someone's lap. The blow made you exhale. And then a voice rang out—rough, male:

• And for what purpose did you bring THIS to me?

He wasn't talking to you, but to those who dragged you there.