[ Chapter 23 ]
At that moment, on the 1st floor of Building C.
After plunging the dagger into a roughly visible spot, the choking prison officer collapsed. It was the end. Ian, who finished the situation, put his hand in his pants pocket and strolled slowly down the hallway.
“……Are they in such a complicated relationship?”
Ian clearly saw through the open door. The golden hair that he wanted to grab and slam into his nose flowed like a golden river on the ground. And the man above that woman was not him, but that bastard.
His mood dampened, but he still burst out laughing. He had come just because he heard some talk about Lemony Helping in situations like this might earn him some goodwill.
“Why is your scent so sweet?”
He took unnecessary steps, but the irritated feeling flowed away once he smelled it. But at the same time, a thirsty desire rose up to my throat. Yes, Ian’s fondness usually began with a faint body scent.
At first, his impression of her was that she was a pretty decent prison officer—neither more nor less. He had no personal feelings towards her. He had put on the officer uniform for fun after escaping, and approaching her was just a simple amusement.
But when her curtain-like golden hair touched his chest, he realized that this woman was not just pretty decent, but rather quite beautiful.
It was provocative. It wasn’t a simple fragrance adorned with perfume. It was a soap scent layered with the woman’s own floral scent, and an indescribable sweet aroma that was infused in her hair and body temperature. It was like sticking my nose through a transparent chiffon fabric. The faintness made it seem even more intoxicating. I became dizzy.
Without thinking, I was about to leave, but I came back to her as if possessed.
What should I do about that?
He chuckled softly—troubled. Knowing that he would eventually have to return to Lemony gave him a headache. Then it happened. Vibration rang from his pocket. Pretending not to hear the sound, Ian had been staring out the arched window, watching the acrobats of death outside.
But the vibration didn’t stop. Ian muttered a curse under his breath and finally took out his communicator from his pocket.
“Your Grace.”
“What is the situation?”
“Are you doing well?”
“Is everything proceeding smoothly?”
“I am doing well, Your Grace.”
Despite their different ways of speaking and their personalities, it was clear they came from the same mold as they both were strictly focused on what they had to say. This fact, however, did not sit well with Ian, and his voice lowered slightly.
“By the way, how are you? Did you have fun imprisoning your innocent youngest son?”
Perhaps he realized that there was a hidden threat behind the light tone. The man sitting on the stool, who remained silent instead of answering, spoke belatedly.
“I would have gladly been imprisoned for Ernest’s sake if I were your age.”
“That’s a nice opinion, but you should mention it during the regular meeting, not to me.”
“Ian Ernest.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Ian responded lightly to the warning tone. Although he couldn’t see it, he could feel the man grinding his teeth. Ian’s laughter was his weapon, especially for those in power who liked to assert their authority.
“Don’t worry, everything is going according to plan. If the great Duke Ernest’s heart flutters at his son’s joke, then he’s just a fool.”
He has to destroy the communication stone or something.
He thought he should break the communicator or something. Just as he was about to cut off the transmission with a smiling face and swearing as if nothing had happened,
“Lemony.”
His expression, which had been consistently light-hearted in response to the man’s question, faltered for a moment. He realized the fact he had forgotten. Lemony was also a prison officer.
“Lemony Christina is the prison officer of the shinsu, so we need to handle her more carefully. Have you confirmed this?”
The low-pitched tone, filled with suppressed anger, was checking whether she was alive or not. Judging by the man’s questioning, it seemed to be a serious matter since he pretended not to have heard their earlier conversation.
He hesitated for a moment, then turned his head to stare at the empty hallway. Lemony must be behind the closed door nearby. What could she be doing there? What could she be telling Deon with her bloodshot eyes?
Ah, unconsciously thinking of Lemony’s face, he felt his lower abdomen tense up and decided to cut off the communication.
As one’s relationship with someone deepens, the tears shed from their actions and touch become thicker. He had realized that fact since he was young and enjoyed it when someone was suffering in front of him. That meant that they valued him.
And just before, Lemony’s weak expression had strongly stimulated his interest. He wanted to be there instead of Deon, in the place where Lemony was crying and in pain. He couldn’t know the strange sadistic pleasure’s origin, but one thing was for sure. It was an advantageous condition to survive in the Ernest noble family, where there was no blood or tears.
“Is it just about killing her in the end?”
Ian reconnected the communicator, but there was no answer. It was not clear, but it meant that he was correct. So it didn’t matter what he did with the woman before that.
“I will contact you again, Your Grace.”
Suddenly, the sound of a woman’s cry could be faintly heard from behind the closed door. It felt like the blood was draining out of him.
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After the incident ended with forced laughter and slight discomfort, Deon and I returned to an awkward and uneasy relationship. It felt like that time when we vented our emotions like drunken fools was nothing but a distant memory.
We lived in separate rooms and only met at the restaurant when we were hungry. Even then, we barely exchanged greetings and hurriedly passed by each other. It felt suffocating. Every time I saw Deon, it reminded me of that breathless situation.
“I didn’t like it either.”
However, there was always a feeling of blood running cold in the end. That doesn’t mean I haven’t done anything necessary for survival during that time. In fact, except for the short time I spent facing Deon, I had plenty of time left over. So I conducted various experiments in the Building C hallway.
The hypothesis for the first experiment. Rampaging monsters are usually well-behaved.
As I checked outside several times a day, I noticed a pattern in their behavior. They became even more aggressive when they saw someone wearing an officer uniform.
Just to test it, I threw a discarded officer jacket from Building C out the window, and the monsters swarmed around it like a school of piranhas, centered on the jacket.
Somehow, they seemed designed to kill officers.
The second hypothesis, they react to the sound of a whistle.
One day, out of sheer curiosity, I blew the whistle. For a brief moment, I felt the monsters hesitate. Then, they charged toward Building C with furious intensity. Wondering if it was just a coincidence, I dropped a small bell to see if they would also react to that. But they didn’t seem to pay any attention to that.
Continuing my experiments, I went to the restaurant one day and unexpectedly ran into that man again. It seemed that hunger struck people at similar times. I awkwardly nodded my head and tried to pass by, but he grabbed my wrist.
“Let’s eat together.”
“What?”
“Or be awkward forever.”
Deon, who replied reluctantly, headed towards the kitchen. It was strange. We used to be exchanging greetings and passing by each other as if we were strangers. I didn’t know what to do in this sudden situation, but refusing in this situation seemed even more awkward.
I followed him to the kitchen, and he was rummaging around the countertop, looking for a frying pan.
“Let me do it.”
It’s uncomfortable. I grabbed his wrist in a hurry, but the man who was laughing suddenly stood up.
“What kind of skill for a subject who only knows how to give orders?”
“I just need to cook it, don’t I?”
“It’s because I don’t like you feeding me like that time.”
The person who was pushing me weakly went to the counter and took out sausages and salad.
“Sit and wait.”
A low warning flowed beyond the towering back. When I saw him from behind, he was an unmistakable prison officer dressed in a black robe. Haah. Sighing lightly, I couldn’t help but sit in the restaurant’s corner.
“Eat.”
A plate with roughly grilled sausages and salad was placed on the table with a thud. The man sitting across from me pulled out a chair and sat down with an indifferent expression, but I could feel his gaze watching my reaction.
“Thank you.”
I couldn’t refuse when he told me to eat. I awkwardly thanked him, planning to finish quickly, but I could feel a faint sigh coming from across the table.
“Are you going to keep acting like this?”
“What do you mean?”
He was sarcastic.
“Thank you. Did you sleep well? People might think I’ve met an aristocrat or something.”
“Well, should I use informal language then?”
“Why did you kiss me back then?”
“Don’t you have any less blunt questions to ask?”
Ah.
Embarrassed, I lowered my head and bit my lower lip, and my reddened ears were exposed through my flowing blonde hair. There was a moment of silence. I felt his gaze staring at me, with his chin resting on his hand, as if he had no intention of opening his mouth until I answered.
Well, it’s better this way. I changed my mind and asked him.
“Why did you do it?”
If Deon hadn’t told me first, I would have continued to avoid it like this. I tried to hide my embarrassment by stuffing a bite of salad in my mouth. He stared at me for a moment with an unreadable expression on his face. After a moment, a dry expression that seemed like a mask covered his face.
“They said I had a berserk outburst even though I hadn’t taken the potion.”
“Doesn’t a berserk outburst usually result in killing someone?”
“It’s usually driven by desire. But since everyone has different desires, it doesn’t always lead to killing.”
Then what desire led him to attack me? As I shut my mouth, he seemed to notice my expression and let out a low chuckle that was close to a sneer.
“Don’t worry. My desires are close to hatred.”
I guess so.
I knew it, but for some reason, my mouth felt dry. I stopped picking at my food with the fork. I thought I had developed a certain resistance to being hated by someone, but it seemed like the instinctive hatred towards me that had been ingrained in his bones made me lose my appetite.
“I’m leaving tomorrow, anyway. That’s what you should know.”
“What?”
“I have to get out of the prison.”
As expected, it was because of the escape from prison story brought up. Anyway, feeling a little better about the jailbreak, I asked.
“But can I come with you?”
He stood up from his seat and answered as if he had finished eating.
“It should be me asking that. You’re always the one running away.”
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Thank you for reading!
