<18>

The appearance of the informant, fittingly described as a stormy eve, brought a strange sense of relief.

It seemed certain that finding the cause of the impending event in the uncomfortable peace would lessen the mental burden. Moreover, apprehending conspirators, escapees, or instigators of double crimes could bring great credit.

Calix responded calmly as if discussing today’s weather.

“It seems there’s someone planning an escape in the absence of Reload. Unfortunately, I don’t know the exact prisoner number. Naturally, not even the name.”

“…Really?”

The supervisor was more visibly shaken by Calix’s words than he had anticipated. After all, conversations within the dining hall took place under strict surveillance. Considering the impossible story, he wondered whether to doubt it or not. Calix scoffed at him.

“The types of military codes composed of signal signs vary from country to country. It seems you’ve never been educated about foreign encryption systems. Some codes can be distinguished just by gestures or subtle movements. Did you really not know?”

“…Unfortunately, that’s correct.”

The supervisor ground his teeth. It was the truth. Anyway, the arrogant informant before him, who had rallied forces from various countries to incite rebellion, had presented a somewhat credible argument.

“It must be more than just one or two.”

“Why are you providing such detailed information?”

“I heard the informant received privileges. I am a person with abilities, so I don’t do ordinary work. Therefore, it’s clear it’s not excluding labor. So tell me, Supervisor, what will you give me now that I’ve provided the information?”

Calix raised his chin arrogantly, just as he had done to the prince. The man who resembled darkness in appearance and demeanor seemed to fit perfectly with this secluded underground prison.

Certainly, the current situation should be reported to Castiel. However, the supervisor responded based on his own judgment.

“If the informant’s information proves true, we will consider it at that time. Even if you don’t know the number, you’ll recognize the face. I’ll arrange a meeting tomorrow, conduct a search, and report the results to the higher-ups. Are you satisfied?”

Calix couldn’t suppress his laughter. His face was full of genuine joy, gloriously and eerily beautiful.

With his shattered features from torture, he arrogantly held his head high like a king.

“Of course.”

It was a satisfactory outcome.

* * *

Calix observed the prisoners’ labor under the condition of being accompanied by a couple of guards as part of his informant role. He behaved as if he had no interest in the outside air, which he hadn’t felt for a long time.

At the workshop, about an hour’s walk from the main prison building, the atmosphere buzzed with the loading and unloading of coal. The only sounds audible in this place where conversation was not allowed were the shouts of the guards and the prisoners singing low songs.

Amidst this scene, Calix fixed his gaze on the subtle signals exchanged.

Subtlety was necessary for a grand scheme. Those who were completely unrelated seemed visibly tense, as if they were clearly plotting something, exchanging furtive glances, which caught the attention of the guards. The performance for distraction was excellent, and Calix was satisfied.

Unfortunately, Glacius had firmly stated that they would not provide material support for the escape. Therefore, the targets indicated by their code would be someone other than guild members.

[20th.]

The words conveyed by the laborer carrying coal were simple yet clear. Calix chuckled, saying the reward for his information would be good wine if he missed the expensive wine. At the same time, he signaled affirmatively using the same code system.

Then he said, “That guy.”

The overseer nodded, asking if he understood the meaning of the code.

“It says the escape will happen in three days.”

“It seems you’ve answered.”

“That was just telling you to go to hell. Can’t you see the middle finger?”

Calix responded with a sly smile, raising his middle finger and wiggling it.

“…Take him away.”

The overseer nodded with a skeptical expression and ordered the guards. Meanwhile, Calix fixed his gaze on the prisoner wearing the widest sleeves. Without even glancing in Calix’s direction, the prisoner hummed a low song and threw sexual jokes at a civilian woman in the distance.

Calix couldn’t help but laugh. Even as he did, each of his actions was conveying a message.

[Preparation]

Preparation was complete.

Calix briefly watched the supervisors drink and take their meals inside the outdoor tent, pretending to be faithful to his main mission, then raised his finger.

“That guy.”

He pointed at one person. The overseer nodded, and the guards who received the signal came out of the tent, shouted to call them out, and then led them to the adjacent barracks. This process repeated several times.

“Ah, no. Not this one, but that way.”

Calix casually called out three people, mistaking the last one. The overseer stared at him disapprovingly, then, with a nonchalant look as if to say, “Whatever,” called out the person who had gone ahead. The prisoner walking towards the tent spat curses with their characteristic rebellious face before returning to their spot.

Afterward, they were granted a brief break under the pretext of reshuffling the team to fill in the missing members of the work shift. The prisoners ran to get their ration and, as usual, enjoyed drinking.

The ominous peace continued.

Of course, separate from this atmosphere, the plan was executed faster than Calix had anticipated.

While the suspects were being interrogated inside the temporary building, the main office received their prisoner numbers and room numbers. They searched the rooms they belonged to and found remnants of stolen gold coins and spoons from the mess hall. In one room, they even found a map depicting the escape route.

Thus, the existence of attempted escapees was confirmed. They were brought from the temporary barracks in the work area to the main office for interrogation. The prisoners expressed their indignation, claiming they had only acted under orders from someone else.

“We only did as we were told!! Honestly, if we really wanted to escape, wouldn’t we have done it blatantly during labor! This is unfair, damn it!!”

“Alright. Fine. First, let’s find out the name of that little rat who attempted the escape. Then let’s talk, you damn son of a bitch!”

The overseer gritted his teeth and twisted his face. The accomplices of the attempted escapee simply resented the unknown instigator but didn’t open their mouths about the mastermind behind it all.

He was perplexed. The basic privileges given to attempted escapees included anonymity and protection, so he couldn’t just reveal their existence as they wished.

Moreover, he couldn’t simply resort to interrogation through torture.

Originally, interrogation was legally carried out only for heinous criminals incarcerated at Alcatraz, repeat offenders, and prisoners with abilities. In other words, as the overseer, he couldn’t inflict harm on them as he pleased. (While violence from the guards was implicitly allowed, it was distinguished from torture by the fact that torture tools, including the iron, were not used.)

Therefore, paradoxically, the top priority suspect for the attempted escape was Calix.

The guards vented their frustration about the unresolved attempted escape to him.

Legal interrogation continued. While enduring greater pain than usual, Calix continued to berate them.

“You’re pathetic beyond belief. You should be ashamed in front of Reload. Well, judging by how eager you were to kill like a rabid dog as soon as torture became possible, it seems you’re annoyed with your impunity, huh?”

The overseer, or rather Clark, fell silent with a sense of humiliation. Partly because it was true, but amidst that, the attitude of complaining about the reward for the information about the escape while presenting evidence was so shocking that it made him wonder if Calix Hamel was even more insane than he thought. He keenly felt that Calix had lost his mind more than he had imagined, behaving like someone completely consumed by something.

The inmates of Sinalore were not normal. He found himself laughing at the fact that he had only realized today that there were no exaggerated aspects in the rumors. He raised his hand, removed the pliers pressed against his skin, and, unable to bear the frustration, shouted angrily.

“So, what the hell are we going to do now?!”

“We’ll pretend to be legal for now.”

Calix took a few rough breaths, then quickly regained his composure and smiled like a snake. It was a relaxed demeanor. Rolling his unfocused eyes here and there as if he had really been intoxicated by something, he eventually tilted his head.

“Frankly, it’s ridiculous to talk about human rights with these heinous criminals. Just look at the entrance to Alcatraz, you’ll see countless cases where inmates get a bone broken while being beaten.”

He spoke with a face like a swindler.

“Pretending to be kind is a waste of time. It’s faster to just torture the attempted escapees. I’m less sensitive to torture than ordinary people because I’m an ability user.”

“Such nonsense…!”

“Believe it or not. And by the way, sir. Is ‘Your Grace’ the preferred title? Yeah.”

Calix arrogantly disregarded the overseer’s protest.

“On a slightly different note, what do you think of me?”

The way he asked the question seemed closer to that of a guard than a prisoner.

Clark had to make an effort not to get involved. Clearly, this wasn’t the scene he had imagined….

He chose to remain silent instead.

He knew a lot about the man in front of him.

Once the most likely candidate for the crown prince, a former grand duke who, after disputes over a woman with the male entourage including the crown prince, became obsessed and eventually rebelled, leading to his miserable downfall.

That was the image of Calix Hamel that circulated. He himself might not know it, but the downfall of the man with the empire’s highest conditions was already being treated as a romantic novel in itself.

Those who had seen his expression when Beatrice rejected him in front of everyone said he was desperate, to the point where he couldn’t even be angry.

The descriptions of him after the rebellion were varied but generally mundane. Anyway, the commonality was that there was no longer any trace of regret in his life. The rumor that he had stopped eating and drinking when he was imprisoned in the basement of Sinalore was well-known, so further explanations were unnecessary.

But….

‘Different from the rumors.’

Clark took a deep breath. Clearly, the grand duke he had heard about through rumors and the one he had experienced in the past few days were distinctly different.

What he saw in Calix was not despair but another obsession, and he seemed ready to do anything to achieve his goal, just as he had been before being imprisoned. Clark sensed danger.

Even now, his gaze toward him showed no signs of remaining rational, like someone under the influence of drugs. He was someone who couldn’t be naturally associated with the ‘prisoner’ or ‘inmate’ that Clark had seen and dealt with so far.

“Answer.”

Yes, even here, Calix Fernand de Hamel was a grand duke.

Clark ignored the throbbing headache caused by his arrogant calmness and pursed his lips. The only word that could be called an answer came after a moment.

“I am the Grand Duke. So, please address me with the proper title.”

“And?”

“….”

Clark hesitated to answer. He couldn’t understand the intention behind the question. Calix looked at him with that arrogant calmness, then stood up from his seat. Then, as if whispering the answer to a child like revealing the solution to a riddle, he smiled brightly.

“Think about what my crime was.”

“Suddenly, what’s that supposed to mean.”

“Listen carefully, overseer. It seems your superiors have forgotten that I, without any ability, single-handedly killed around 400 people. I enjoy using fire besides my ability.”

Cardunk. Clark’s breath caught at the events unfolding before his eyes.

The handcuffs were breaking. Literally, they were shattering and slowly distorting. Calix remained expressionless amidst it all.

“And to use fire, you need something to ignite it with.”

Oh, just in case you were wondering, if you think the reason I’ve been quiet and cooperative so far is because of the romantic novel stories you’ve been chatting about, you’re wrong.

Calix smiled playfully, then raised his finger to his temple.

“Think about it.”

Clark looked down at the broken shackles that he usually used when restraining prisoners. They were now scattered on the ground in a pitiful state, rolling over the cold hard floor. Calix cheerfully removed a piece of chain that had been hanging precariously from his hand and delivered his cheerful monologue.

Where is the value of life more important than anywhere else?