I Became a Prison Officer of the First-Class Prisoners

[ Chapter 7 ]

 

“By the way, wherever you go, Senior, you must be very comfortable.”

Day smiled as if he was jealous of her.

“What?”

What does that mean? As I tried to discern the meaning of the words, furrowing my eyebrows, he stooped down and whispered in my ear.

“Don’t you have a whistle, Senior? Right behind Senior, there is the strongest slave here.”

There was a sense of conviction in the whispered voice. Day seemed to assume that I had come this far after putting the shackles on Deon through the whistle.

Slave.

My mouth was sealed shut by a thought that had never crossed my mind. I had never considered treating him, the male protagonist, like a slave. As a reader of the original work, I thought Deon, who despised and sought revenge against Lemony, was right.

When I didn’t say anything, one of Day’s eyebrows rose.

“Did you get dragged around?”

It’s possible. I just got possessed, so I might have been dragged here.

“….The authority to give orders to a first-class prisoner is the strongest power in this prison.”

I know that.

“Of course, we have to consider that giving such orders is….. inhumane, right?”

As I murmured quietly, I felt embarrassed for no reason and stared into the air. His voice, which had been lingering in my ear, froze as if it was unbelievable.

“…Were your original personality like this, Senior?”

The meaning implied in this question was accurate. Lemony’s usual personality was famous not only to Deon but to others as well.

In typical novels, when someone possesses a villain, they act like one. As I briefly considered acting as Lemony, I realized that this place was not a novel but reality and I lowered my head.

With a dismal feeling, I sighed and bit my lower lip.

I even knew that what Day was saying was right. In this situation, I couldn’t preach morality. No, Day was right.

I felt sorry for thinking of tormenting him like the real Lemony, but I wasn’t stupid enough to show empathy for someone who tried to kill me.

I struggled to speak and stared firmly into Day’s golden pupils. I tried to convey a strong message through my gaze, but it seemed like he didn’t get the message.

“…Do you treat your prisoner with the same kindness, Senior?”

Oh, did I look like a pushover? I raised my eyebrows in response to the question that seemed to express concern.

“Do I look kind?”

“No, it’s just that if I were a prisoner, I would want you to be my officer.”

His expression, as if joking, seemed to darken. Even though he smiled just like before, his gaze looking at me felt strangely sharp.

I wonder if I’m mistaken again.

“…..Just in case, you can only give commands to a first-class prisoner up to 10 times a day, so be careful.”

“Pardon?” 

Of course, it must have been my imagination.

I could see the worry in his shimmering golden eyes as soon as I blinked.

Oh, wait a minute. That wasn’t the problem.

“Did you say I can only give orders to a first-class prisoner 10 times a day?”

My whole body became cold.

This information was not mentioned in the original work. That was because the protagonist of 『The Shackles on My Hands』 was a prisoner, not a prison officer. Of course, the whistle setting of the first-class prison officer, which was an extra, was not mentioned in the original.

…But how did Day know about that? 

“I heard you’ve only been here for a month since you became an officer…”

As I felt something was strange, I turned my gaze toward where he was.

“…Day?”

But no one was there. Instead, only torches flickered sporadically, casting light on the rough stone wall. I looked around but couldn’t feel anyone’s presence, let alone the man’s. It felt like I had seen a ghost.

I felt a shiver run down my arm, whether from the emptiness or something else.

“Is the conversation over?”

A low pitch that sent shivers down my spine was heard at that moment. Come to think of it, I had forgotten about Deon while talking with Day. But with Deon’s personality, he would have probably stayed and interfered with our conversation.

Wait a minute.

I realized only then that Deon had deliberately not participated in our conversation. Did he hear us? Would he have heard us if he had listened in? Although important conversations were intentionally whispered, it was a situation where you could have easily eavesdropped if you leaned your ear in this distance. My fingers trembled slightly as I held them out in the air. 

I tried to remember how many times I had used command magic on Deon.

The second was to follow me and go into the cell. The third was to sit when he transformed into a black panther. And then there were the three commands to release the shackles and stop, combined with the one to stop earlier. If I add them all together…

I swallowed hard, feeling dryness in my throat as I folded my last finger.

….nine times.

My saliva went down on its own.

I felt a slight annoyance in the gaze looking down at my forehead. I don’t know if it was because he didn’t like saying the same thing twice or if his already low voice became even more subdued.

Did he hear it, or not?

Now wasn’t the time to worry about the disappeared Day. The air was getting stickier and tighter, making it harder to breathe. It was better to pretend not to know for now. There was no need to stir up an uncomfortable conversation from my side.

“Yes. Day suddenly disappeared.”

As I turned my head, pretending not to know, my face froze in shock, even though I thought it looked pretty good.

“I see.”

The eerie, calm reddish eyes were looking down at me. They were so similar to the eyes of a beast waiting for its prey that shivers ran down my spine and penetrated my brain.

There was only one way. I had to endure 24 hours without him noticing and reduce the number of commands to 10.

“By the way, aren’t you hungry?”

In a hurry, I changed the subject and took out a map from my pocket and unfolded it. There was a suspicious part in the situation earlier, and on the map, there was also a private room next to Deon’s cell that belonged to Lemony.

There was no way there was no food in Lemony’s room. Deon must have starved for a few days, so we might able to stay 24 hours in that room.

“Going up to the 7th floor, there might be something to eat. Do you want to go?”

Of course, my plan would only work if Deon listened to me.

“Is it an order or a suggestion?”

“It’s a suggestion.”

I thought it was a good answer, but I became stiff in an instant.

“Is that so? Too bad.”

With a disappointed look, he tugged at the shackles and walked. Deon knew.

“Then let’s go up to the 7th floor.”

Something that had been tense inside me suddenly snapped. My whole body went limp like a discarded doll and I was dragged along by him, following him without resistance.

◆

“The level of humans is quite obvious, seeing that they worked hard on meaningless things.”

Deon kicked his tongue in front of the sturdy iron door made of melted iron. The private room door, which looked quite thick at first glance, had a harmonious carving of the Robellia flower, the emblem of the Western Empire, and Sycamores, the emblem of the Southern Empire.

It seemed to have been made as strong as possible to resist any potential rebellion from a first-class prisoner, but looking at Deon’s broken prison bars that couldn’t resist him, it was clear that it was all for nothing.

The room was just right for a single person to use, cozy and small.

Wooden shelves were lined up on the roughly applied ivory wallpaper. Like sunlight in a cave, intense light illuminated the food on the shelves.

Deon walked with large strides toward the food and roughly tore apart a bread loaf with such force that it seemed like a predator was ripping its prey with massive fangs. He seemed unsatisfied with the bread, so he lifted the basket filled with bread and jerky. This was my chance. While Deon was immersed in his food, I quickly searched the room.

As it was Lemony’s personal room, there were bound to be useful items around.

Next to the shelf was a winter innerwear, which was presumed to be often worn by Lemony, hanging on the hanger. Although he was a nobleman, the prison officer’s clothes were nothing special.

On the simple one-person desk, a pipe seemed to be made for communication, which ran along the wall to the upper floor.

Where does it lead to? I was thinking about the map I saw earlier when suddenly the shackles were pulled, and my forehead hit the giant hardback.

Deon stood still. With a stiff face as his body, staring at the room.

This was Lemony’s bedroom.

Unlike the blanketless prison cell, her room was decorated with luxurious lavender wallpaper and had a bed filled with goose down. The still-lit mood lamp shone like a small gem crafted from the rough light of a torch.

It was extravagant.

It was completely different from the desolate Dreys Prison.

“…As expected, you’re from a noble family.”

Deon also seemed to have a similar impression as me, as his hatred toward Lemony was growing more intense. Seeing a proper room for the first time in five years, he stood still as if facing a stranger’s world.

“I thought it was a room for a princess of a great kingdom.”

As he stared at the bed, he walked over and sat on it without hesitation. In an instant, my heart froze in fear.

In the original story, Lemony used command magic to drag Deon to the bed and made him kneel before her while she slept. Deon must have stayed in that position all night long. Later, when Lemony got up from the bed, she put on her shoes and used his knees as a footrest.

“Are you going to keep standing there?”

My shoulders involuntarily shrunk. Despite his relaxed posture with his legs comfortably spread and tearing into the jerky, his solid thigh muscles were clearly visible through the stretched wrinkles of his pants.

That means his body itself is a weapon.

What does sitting on the bed mean? Could he be trying to get revenge by copying what Lemony did?

Now, as I was fiddling with the whistle, the crimson irises that met mine were silently staring at me. The air grew noticeably colder. Even without him saying anything, I knew that not responding to this man’s words could mean risking my life.

“….that, where to sit…”

Let’s endure for just 24 hours. I, who swallowed the saliva that accumulated gradually, looked around aimlessly, wondering if there was somewhere else to sit. 

Suddenly, my leg was pulled and my whole body collapsed in an instant. Gasping for breath, I realized that I had grabbed onto something solid and wide with my palm, which was the man’s chest, and quickly sat up beside him.

Deon seemed to have no intention of closing his legs, which were comfortably spread, and the thought of narrowing them did not seem to exist. His thigh, like his words, touched my leg, causing my body to flinch.

What the hell.  Why did he tell me to sit?

As I tried to guess the intention behind his actions, thinking of the many misdeeds Lemony had inflicted on him, something suddenly caught my eye.

It was jerky.

“Are you going to starve yourself to death?”

He lowered his voice and raised one eyebrow as if annoyed.

“Eat.”

◆

Thank you for reading!