I Became a Prison Officer of the First-Class Prisoners

At that moment.

With a tremendous noise, one side of the wall in Building C collapsed, causing a flock of crows hiding nearby to fly away into the sky. Still wearing shackles, rampaged around like a wild beast, tearing everything apart with his unbelievable speed and strength, causing the air resistance to tear apart.

It was a feeling of adrenaline taking over his entire body. Remembering the terrible emotions he had felt five years ago, he gave in to his exploding instincts, without even realizing that he had lost his rationality.

Lemony.

Just thinking of that name made him feel nauseous, and his strong jawbone became even more tense. He gritted his teeth and kicked the door of Building A.

“…..What’s all the noise?”

The prisoners wandering in the corridor on the 1st floor of Building A turned their gazes toward Deon. He had no thoughts in his mind. He took broad steps toward the strange demon.

Then, he thrust his long leg into the demon’s abdomen and brought it down.

The demon, with deep wrinkles engraved on its abdomen, fell to the ground, following the curves of the sole of Deon’s foot. Its eyes widened like a suffocating frog.

“What? What’s going on?”

Amidst the sudden commotion, the surrounding prisoners gathered, but he did not stop his destructive actions.

It was because he had not been able to kill Lemony.

“Geu—”

Strange sounds came from below.

Earlier, there was a demon who had been staring at Lemoney with hostility. Seeing drool dribbling down from its thick lips like droplets of rain only made him feel worse.

The cruel violence continued in the unrelenting heat. Thud. Crunch. Tears welled up in the demon’s eyelids as he made strange sounds on the ground.

The berserk potion activates the inherent desires and instincts within a living being. This is why soldiers going to war are given berserk potions.

At first, he thought everything was over when he ran into Lemony in the corridor. He had waited for that moment for five years, wondering how to kill the woman and how her face would contort with pain. He even envisioned her kneeling and begging for mercy, with tears streaming down her vicious, violet eyes.

However.

When he heard the voice that somehow made him feel relieved, he felt his blood run cold. He realized that he had to submit to her orders until the moment he killed her. It felt like all his accumulated plans were swept away as if they were vain.

“Fuck.”

A vulgar curse spewed out of the sinister face watching the demon covered in blood.

He couldn’t kill Lemony. He couldn’t move according to his intentions until the end.

“I-it’s over now, if you just… p-please…”

How satisfying it would be if that sobbing beneath him were that woman’s. With a final strike that made his bones rattle, he killed the demon. 

As its face sank into the ground, its breath stopped. Startled screams from the surroundings caused a few demons to flee. One demon, running away belatedly, hit its head on a torch, causing the shadow of the torch flickering in the barren corridor to shake.

Now, all that remained was the silent corridor, as if a mouse had died, and the rough breathing of Deon, who was quietly shaking. Was it because he had swallowed too much of the berserk potion? He couldn’t calm down, and as he tried to brush his hair back, he swung his fist again at the demon standing nearby.

To be exact, it was when he was about to swing his fist.

“Come back right now, Deon.”

A sharp command pierced his brain like an arrow hitting its target. It was strange. It hadn’t been 24 hours yet, but he heard that woman’s voice again. And he felt the effect of the potion subsiding.

◆

Ian, who had been carrying me in a garbage bag, had gone somewhere. I was hitting the sturdy bag made of straw without any restraint and trying to tear it apart with the sword I had picked up earlier.

Or rather, I was attempting to tear it apart. The bag was made so tough that even a decent sword could hardly tear it. I wondered how much garbage they intended to put in there.

“…Fu-fuck! Why is it so tough!”

The fear of dying overwhelms reason. Moisture seeps between the voices screaming in agony. I never thought I would die like this. Please. Please. Unable to make even a scratch on the bag with my sword, I grabbed the gun hanging from my waist with trembling hands.

I had to do something.

It was only a few hours ago that I firmly resolved to survive. It didn’t matter whether the opponent in front of me was Deon or Ian. Even if I were to die, I would not regret giving a bloody nose and dying. I wasn’t that cowardly weakling anymore.

“Lemony, do you know how to swear?”

Despite my determination, he still spoke with a carefree tone, humming as if he were singing a song. He was truly insane. Deon can at least communicate, but this man couldn’t even hold a conversation.

Recalling some action movies I had seen somewhere, I roughly loaded what appeared to be a magazine into the gun.

“What are you doing Lemony?”

I clenched my teeth and put more force into it, waiting for the creaking sound.

Click. Finally, the sound I wanted to hear. As I relaxed a bit and my mouth started to curve upwards, suddenly, the bag flipped. Startled, a shriek of surprise came out. I’m not dead, am I? I muttered nervously, as the man who had been muttering suddenly quieted down and started untying the bag he had placed on the ground.

Or rather, he was trying to untie it.

“Why I hear that woman’s voice from you?”

At the familiar low pitch, Ian’s hand and my breath stopped at the same time.

“Why do I hear that woman’s voice coming from your direction?”

It had a slight irritation in the overwhelming silence around us.

It was Deon.

I could feel his indifferent gaze on the bag as he walked up without warning.

It was quite strange. Deon, the most threatening presence in this prison, had a voice that brought a huge sense of relief and something hot welling up between my eyes. I’m not sure about anything else, but this one thing was certain.

Deon won’t allow me to die or let anyone kill me, even if it’s by myself.

But Ian didn’t answer Deon.

Instead, a glimmering golden eye behind the slightly opened bag caught my attention. Deon must be right in front of him, but his gaze was still directed at me, not at Deon.

“If you switch your prisoner in charge, I’ll save you from that son of a bitch.”

Who will save whom?

As I trembled at the horrible sound, a smile bloomed like a watercolor painting on his face as if my trembling was delightful. At the same time, a mocking laughter burst out from across the room.

And then, just as I was about to aim the gun at Ian, an explosion went off in my left ear.

◆

The atmosphere was stuffy. I felt a deep pain somewhere, but since I couldn’t feel the pain, I couldn’t tell exactly where it hurt. As my eyelids rose in the dizzy abyss, my focus began to shift to the dimly flickering background.

The first thing that caught my eye was the dust.

Through the faintly rising dust, I could see the face of a burly man with thick lines on one side of a wall that seemed to have collapsed. Was it Deon? Or was it Ian?

“Open your eyes properly.”

A low, slightly cracked voice hovered at the tip of my nose. A dangerous red residue shimmered through the gray smoke. When I opened my eyes, I saw a grimy palm gripping something urgently. Something was crumpled up in the firm arm and palm with visible blood vessels.

It was clothing stained with blood.

I was looking around to assess the situation.

“….You’re alive, somehow.”

Haah.

A warm breath of relief touched my forehead as the tension dissipated. Seeing that I was alive, he finally seemed to relax and lowered his head, causing his sweaty black hair to tickle my cheek.

“….What?”

“If you don’t even realize your own pain, what can you do? Check your waist.”

With a frustrated tone, he furrowed his brows and glanced downwards again. Come to think of it, that was where Deon was applying pressure earlier… Ah. I had definitely seen it earlier.

Struggling to lift my upper body, I looked down and saw his hand, soaked in blood, pressing firmly on the uniform with bloodstains spreading like watercolor.

It was ominous.

The bleeding was severe compared to what I could feel. I wasn’t even aware that I was hurt.

His face darkened as he continued to press down on my waist.

“I thought being painless made you invincible, but I don’t know how you became a prison officer with this body.”

“Is it really severe?”

“Don’t you know when you see it?”

“I don’t know even if I look at it. It doesn’t hurt at all.”

He murmured hesitantly while looking down at me with an indiscernible gaze.

“….Then how can I make you feel pain?”

When I heard unexpected words, my eyes widened, and he shifted the topic, lightly squinting his eyes.

“No, once the wound opens up, if you don’t want to die, you have to lie still. Try to find something to use for hemostasis around the central control room.”

The person who had been holding onto my waist the whole time reluctantly stood up from his seat, closed the door, and disappeared.

“…..Lemony? Are you in pain?”

It was then.

Someone, who was mumbling like a boy who overslept, raised his head. Come to think of it, there was a place where I could feel body temperature other than my waist.

It was my wrist.

A large hand that didn’t fall off me held my wrist. The man, who seemed to be sleeping or something, revealed his face through his messy silver hair.

Ah.

And then a short exclamation broke the silence.

It wasn’t a curse or a low-quality joke. However, looking at my blood-stained waistband with innocent eyes, my spine shivered for some reason.