[ Chapter 13 ]
Of course, Deon didn’t come, as he was a divine being and supposedly had sensitive hearing. I tried giving another command, but there was no response, which was embarrassing.
I put the whistle away and looked around. I was still among piles of corpses. But as they say, humans are creatures of adaptation. After experiencing something big, everything else seemed like nothing.
I had to start by examining Yvonne’s body. The weirdest thing at the moment was that she died now when she was supposed to die later in the story. Even the symptoms of Yvonne’s death seemed strange. It could be possible that my appearance had influenced the original story, but she didn’t seem to have died normally.
I found a rough leather glove in a drawer. It seemed to be for an adult male, with a little space left above the fingers, but it was better than touching it with my bare hands.
I knelt down and thoroughly examined Yvonne’s body.
Her pupils, lost and unfocused, stared out. I closed her eyelids with gloved hands, apologized silently, and immediately began removing her clothes.
After unbuttoning her uniform and examining her bare body, I saw a cold, stiff corpse. The thought of examining a stiff corpse made bile rise up in my throat, but I swallowed it down with a cold expression.
There were no visible signs of bruises. When she had collapsed earlier, her expression had been one of agony, but her body seemed too clean and neat to have died painfully.
Until I discovered the tattooed symbol on the back of her neck.
“….Was there a tattoo on Yvonne’s neck?”
As I lifted her sturdy neck and round occiput with both hands, the familiar silhouette of a beast was visible behind the sharply drawn X mark.
It was a wolf-like creature with its mouth threateningly open. It was undoubtedly the same symbol as the one that appeared when Deon drank the potion that caused him to go berserk.
It was suspicious just to look at.
I carefully laid her occiput on the ground and rebuttoned her uniform’s undone buttons. No matter how much I thought about it, the original work had no episode related to the berserk potion.
Berserk potion.
It’s a kind of energy that permeates all living things, big or small. People who are born with a lot of innate magic are able to wield it, while those without any magic are revered as pure souls and called saints.
The berserk potion triggers an abnormal surge of energy inherent in a living creature, rendering them unable to think rationally and causing them to destroy everything in order to emit magic instinctively.
During wartime, knights would drop a single drop of the potion into the water they drank to boost morale.
It was clear that Deon had probably consumed an entire bottle of the berserk potion. He did it back then, when he burned down half of the Empire, and he was probably doing it now too.
Although the exact circumstances were unknown, it seemed like it would be best to be careful of this symbol in the future.
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After searching the bodies of the sacrificed prison officers, the items I found were as follows:
First, a gun.
They were of a size that could be easily held in both hands, but they were definitely different from the BB guns that I used to play with in elementary school, judging from their solid weight and additional parts that seemed to be locking mechanisms.
In conclusion, I don’t know how to shoot a gun, but it seemed better to have it than not. I strapped the gun to my waist and removed the magazines from the other officers’ guns, storing them separately in my pocket.
And secondly, there were numerous swords.
It seemed that all the officers, except for the first-class officer, were issued with guns and swords. The swords, which were guarding the sides of their fallen owners, were silently keeping watch.
When I picked up one of them and raised it, the red liquid coating the blade dripped down thickly. I wiped the sword with a handkerchief lying nearby, and the sharp edge regained its cool gleam.
So, they had these terrifying swords and still lost the battle.
I shuddered at the arm that was exposed through the sleeve. The sense of powerlessness that I couldn’t survive here suddenly came over me, but I continued to search the area while trying to ignore that fact.
The useful weapon I found in the mess hall was not a gun or a sword, but a frying pan. Holding the sturdy iron pan in both hands. I gulped as I looked at the pan, which was much bigger and more dignified than Lemony’s face.
The only reliable thing was the frying pan.
I didn’t know how to use a gun, and the long sword was too much for my thin wrists. But the frying pan could defend against the prisoners’ attacks and also be used to strike a blow to the back of the head with just the right amount of force.
I didn’t know why it was in prison, but my hypothesis was that the officers also chose the frying pan as a last resort.
Before opening the door, I grabbed the damp doorknob and took a deep breath. I went in. And then surveyed the situation.
Alright.
With determination, I cautiously opened the door, fully prepared to wield the frying pan if necessary. The first thing that caught my eye was a bright, intense light that seemed to burn even though it wasn’t touching anything. It emanated from the walls, illuminating everything in the room.
Dozens of monitors.
I could only assume they were CCTV cameras. The monitors covered every inch of buildings A through E.
And then, I saw something that caused me to drop the iron frying pan I was holding.
All buildings except Building C had their gates of hell opened. In some places, massive orcs draped in torn prison officer uniforms like cloaks wielded iron bars, while on some monitors, four-legged demons were eating screaming officers alive.
In some areas, something unseen dragged the legs of an officer.
The only fortunate thing was that I had already experienced a giant mountain named Deon. As a result, I was able to avoid screaming or fainting.
My desperate gaze had already scanned through Building C.
I expected it, but Building C was dead silent. Deon wasn’t there either. After spending five years in Dreys Prison, he naturally avoided places with CCTV.
As I stared blankly at the empty corridor, I remembered the iron pan I had just dropped and bent down. But instead of the pan, something touched my index finger. It was a rough fabric, presumably clothing.
Another dead body, I thought.
I opened my tired eyes slowly, just as I had assumed that the clothing I touched was the uniform of a prison officer and lowered my head in exhaustion. However, a noticeable purple garment caught my eye as I raised my eyelids.
For reference, the uniform worn by prison officers is in the navy blue range.
Therefore, the body in the purple clothes meant that it was not a prison officer, but a prisoner.
“….Looks like you didn’t die without a fight.”
Chukle. Without realizing it, a smile escaped my lips. I was now completely insane. To think that I felt hope for escape after discovering a prisoner’s body.
The emotions I was feeling were no different from a child who was trying to predict their luck with a four-leaf clover they stumbled upon.
But I didn’t feel bad about it.
These people died fighting bravely. At least they chose to fight and face their enemies instead of trembling in fear like me, and they were able to leave a lasting impression on their predators.
If I find Deon, I might have a chance too.
By the way, what level of prisoner could this person be? Out of idle curiosity, I grabbed the corpse’s wrist and checked the stiff clothing being dragged out. I quickly covered my ears as a piercing scream escaped.
My heart, which I thought had calmed down, started beating rapidly again. It was unbelievable. I suddenly realized that I had entered a novel.
The number written on the name tag was 1003.
The first-class prisoner of the nobles is imprisoned in Building C. The problem is that the first-class prisoner in Building C is the sub-male lead of this world.
Are you dead already?
I didn’t understand. I could understand to some extent why even Yvonne who was a villain, died since I possessed an extra. However, the fact that the main character of this novel could also die means that Deon, who is currently beyond my control, could die too.
A bad feeling crept up my spine and my breathing became ragged. I quickly grabbed my chest and tried to brainwash myself.
It’s okay. Deon is strong.
The corpse I found was also of the same rank as Deon, but the man is different. I saw it with my own eyes.
Anyway, the name of this man, who is one of the main characters accidentally discovered, is Ian Ernest.
Unlike Deon, who had a frightening face and a blunt tone that choked the female lead’s breath, Ian worshipped her like a goddess.
Although he was a character with even stranger quirks than Deon, he was still one of my favorite characters because of his polite and cute attitude toward the female lead. In that sense, it was a bit regrettable.
I hope we don’t have to meet face-to-face, but I didn’t want to see him dead either. With that thought in mind, I pulled the man’s arm a little harder.
“…wait a minute.”
This man is not Ian Ernest.
It was not transparent silver threads that seemed moist to the touch with moonlight, nor did he have white skin that suited his unique cold atmosphere.
Then,
The faint white light that was gently grazing my left cheek suddenly turned dark for a moment before brightening up again. When I turned my head to check the monitor, someone who appeared out of nowhere quickly descended the stairs on the 7th-floor corridor of Building C.
I stood up from my seat and stared at the monitor.
Prison officer?
The man was likely an officer based on his appearance, but something was off. His lips, only partially visible under his hat, were curved into a pleasant smile, which didn’t seem appropriate for an officer in this situation.
Suddenly, I turned my head to the monitor next to me as a man rapidly descended the stairs to the 6th floor. Then, back to the monitor on my other side as he reached the 4th-floor hallway. This continued until he finally arrived at the entrance to the central room where I was located. My heart stopped. The previous agitation in my chest gave way to a numbing sensation that spread through my lower abdomen.
Right door.
A man was standing across the room to the right of where I was standing.
But I had forgotten my sense of reality, and my gaze was fixed on the monitor instead of the door. The man who was walking quickly suddenly stood straight and took off his hat, as if he was trying to show some respect.
I could see his silver hair and white skin through the gap in his hat. His charming face, turned from an eerie smile into a naive one by curling up his eyes.
Could it be…
Finally realizing something, I desperately turned my body and tried to escape to the reception room.
“Senior Lemony?”
The man who opened the door smiled brightly and approached me with his long legs.
“I’m glad you’re alive. I was worried.”
That person wasn’t Day. In the first place, there was no such person named Day.
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Thank you for reading!
