[ Chapter 3 ]
As his long legs, walking with a wide stride, suddenly stopped, my wobbling toes touched his firm abdomen. It was just my thumb that lightly touched it, but I felt something.
I could feel his terrifyingly hard and flat abs. Imagining something from the muscles of the man I could feel through the tunic, I bit my lower lip.
『The Shackles on My Hands』 was R-19 waste novel. Deon felt an overpowering desire to possess the female protagonist, Leilia, and his obsession was accompanied by the behavior of taking off his top when he saw Leilia.
Did you say the sweat glistened through his tightly knit abs? Just my thumb had brushed against his stomach, but it brought to mind the countless descriptions I had read in novels in the early morning hours.
The man was well over 190cm tall, and his entire body was like a massive fortress of muscle.
“Ah, command magic.”
At that moment,
I tried my best to avoid touching his abs with my toes, but then a low rumble echoed through the hallway, breaking the silence.
“…That’s right. My noble prison officer had a bad taste in giving me orders.”
He seemed to be chewing on his words as if he were about to laugh, but then his gaze lowered, and I felt him staring intently at my wobbly legs.
“I wonder how long you can maintain that damn command tone.”
It was roughly a threat that he would kill me if the command magic were released.
…That’s right. I was Lemony.
Only then did I get out of the reader’s point of view and realize that I almost died from the man with tightly sculpted abs just moments ago.
This extra, which seems to have been created by crudely squeezing the names of vitamins and jewels, was only created to maximize Deon’s anger.
The Marquis of Christina, where Lemony was born, was famous for their harsh education. Her siblings were trained relentlessly, without mercy, and grew up as beautifully refined, well-mannered dolls.
But Lemony didn’t.
It was because she had congenital insensitivity to pain.
“Lady Lemony. Lift the hem of your dress.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because you are a disobedient and ill-mannered young lady who does not listen to her tutor.”
“Yes. Hit me.”
“…I’m sorry, what did you say?”
The past of Lemony briefly mentioned in the early part of the novel, could only be described as that of a crazy bitch.
“I also wonder how hard I have to get hit to feel the pain.”
I was a little freaked out when I read the lines. Even though it’s a novel, it’s not something a 12-year-old should say. Her curiosity about pain, ignorant as it was, gradually transformed into a more sinister form as she grew older.
“First-class prisoner. His name is Deon? Would a first-class prisoner not feel pain like me?”
To be honest, I possessed Lemony, but it was understandable that Deon, who escaped from prison, killed Lemony first. Throwing his head into the toilet, tying his limbs, and feeding him bread. No, there were countless days when even bread was not given in the first place.
Moreover, Lemony’s cunningness, who even became his prison officer, was worsened by the command magic that only first-class prison officers could sign.
The Dreys Prison was originally a place where prisoners who could not be handled by the Southern and Western Empires gathered. In particular, first-class prisoners designated as the highest-risk class were difficult to deal with, so they could not be controlled without a compulsory order.
One whistle was distributed to every prison officer in charge of the first-class prisoner.
The prison officer, who signed such a compulsory contract, was able to correct the prisoner’s behavior by forcibly issuing orders when a first-class prisoner behaved against prison life.
In the original work, when an unidentified first-class prisoner escaped, the command magic was terminated. This was because the defense system was compromised due to the first-class prisoner breaking through the prison’s barrier.
But now.
“….Officer. Even if I acted like a well-behaved dog, shouldn’t you at least give me some praise?”
The command magic was still in effect.
The reason he was standing there like a stone statue and could do nothing but sulk was because of it.
“…well done.”
I was concentrating on holding my trembling hand as hard as I could, I answered as I was told, but I heard a giggling sound from the other side.
“Actions speak louder than words when it comes to praise. “
“Yes?”
“Either undo the command magic.”
His gaze darkened as he stared at my leg.
“…or at least show me your weeping face.”
I’m afraid I can’t.
“Put me down.”
At the last word, my heart, which had been pounding, hardened like ice.
This man was no longer the male lead in the novel’s description. I don’t know why I possessed the character named Lemony, but when the cool low voice entered my ears, the thought that I had to survive rushed in.
There was no point in wasting any more time being swayed by Deon.
Although my head was still throbbing and my breathing was labored, at least now that the original work had changed, I had a weapon to confront him.
It meant that there was hope.
“Deon, put me down.”
With a trembling breath, I barely blew the whistle, and suddenly his neck stiffened as if he had been hypnotized.
Deon squeezed my waist as if he were going to break it, but that was all.
Soon, the shoe soles that were hovering in the air touched the ground. I quickly untied the rope attached to my waist.
I knew from reading the novel. The Dreys prison officials were given self-defense weapons and restraining ropes to subdue prisoners.
Through the darkness, the eerie blood-red pupils shining with a distinct glimmer watched my actions, and he tilted his head. Cold venom hung on the corner of his tightly closed lips.
“Why? Is tying people up your hobby?”
“…Is that where your mind always goes?”
“You told me that, officer.”
Because I’m not Lemony.
“Tied up.”
Disgust can be seen on his smiling face.
“Hand.”
I tried to ignore his stinging gaze and slowly walked behind him.
“That’s your preference.”
“Forget about it.”
“The high-ranking noble officer is back this time….”
“I said forget about it, Deon.”
I blew into the whistle and felt the man’s bear-like back tense up as his thick forearms crossed in an X. Good. With him subdued, I could lock Deon up in the 7th-floor isolation cell and make my escape from the prison.
“Now, follow me.”
I wonder if it’s okay to keep giving orders.
What if the command magic gets released later and I end up being torn apart even more cruelly than in the original?
He was like a wild beast of a man. My neck stiffened for a moment at the thought, but now there was no other way.
The only way was to blow the whistle and take heavy steps, and soon after, much more solid and silent footsteps started to follow me.
“Never mind.”
However, there was another problem. Even if I could give orders, that terrifying gaze that seemed to kill me would not disappear.
“Because I’m your dog.”
◆
The Dreys Prison consisted of five blocks that maintained a reasonable distance from each other, forming a massive complex. I am currently in Building B.
The original story begins with the escape of a first-class prisoner from Building A.
“….So that means I shouldn’t go to Building A…”
As I was looking at the map, a black shadow fell on my hand. A reflex warning beep sounded in my head, and as I quickly turned my head to check the cause, I burst out laughing with relief.
It was the shadow of a torch.
It felt as if the fire distorted suddenly, elongating the shadow, as if the wind had blown from somewhere. But it was just that. Even though my spine was chilled with goosebumps and the surrounding air felt freezing, I pretended not to care and bit my lower lip, unfolding the map again.
The 7th floor of the Dreys Prison, without Deon, was eerily quiet.
The hallway, relying on torches as there were no windows, was as dark as if a beast had swallowed it. The ventilation system seemed inadequate as the air was both humid and chilly. “Bleak” would have been a more accurate description.
I was on the seventh floor. More precisely, I was sitting at the stairway leading down to the sixth floor, where I had locked Deon behind bars.
“If you go down there with that stupid look on your face and plan to get killed by other prisoners, it’s better to stay here. You have to be killed by my hands.”
Suddenly, I remembered the ominous threat from the day before when the man had squeezed through the bars. And I had to admit that Deon’s warning was partly valid.
When I climbed up with that man, I didn’t realize that Dreys Prison was quite a scary place to walk alone. It was a broken-down prison with rickety torches, occasionally creaking iron bars, and a rough surface of basalt that felt damp and cold enough to make my bones ache. And the stairs leading down to the sixth floor were completely sealed in darkness without even the faintest flicker of torchlight.
I had no idea what could be lurking down there.
Prisoner? Other officers?
If we were to play a probability game, the chances of facing a prisoner would be high. This world is described strictly from the perspective of a prisoner.
It’s too scary. Staring into the darkness, not knowing what might pop out, made me start to feel short of breath. But I couldn’t just linger here either.
“….Okay, let’s sort things out for now.”
Sitting on the stairs, I nervously bit my lower lip.
Dreys Prison was a fortress surrounded by five buildings arranged in a circle. Each building had one first-class prisoner locked up in a solitary cell on the 7th floor. But as you went down to the lower floors, several tens or hundreds of prisoners were imprisoned, divided into 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, and 6th classes.
That meant, here, in Building B, there was no prisoner stronger than Deon.
However, the Dreys prison was a trash can that collected debris that the Western and Southern empires could not handle. It was safe to say that there were almost no human prisoners. Most of them were demons, and it was questionable why they didn’t kill them, but in the novel, ‘intelligent humanoid monsters’ were described as having dignity that conformed to human rights. It was called the demon realm.
“….demon realm…. I really…”
Conclusion. I could only laugh bitterly.
When I regained my senses, my fingers, which had sneaked through my hair, were nervously tangled.
So, can’t I escape?
…No. I’m definitely going to escape.
“Who wants to die here?”
In the empty staircase, my question echoed bleakly.
I didn’t want to die. Not when I had gulped down the insurance money of my deceased parents, who were distant relatives before possessing Lemony. Not when they occasionally beat me in the name of education.
Not even when I had to endure their vivid curses.
“You weed-like bitch. How easier would it be if you died together with your parents?”
That’s right.
I was just a weed there.
A weed with such a tough vitality couldn’t die so easily.
◆
Thank you for reading!
