[Chapter 10]
In the dark hallway, a pair of red eyes glowed quietly. The chilling coldness in them, devoid of any sympathy or pity, made my body freeze.
I opened my lips to try talking back, but I soon realized—I had nothing to say.
Deon had always been this kind of man from the start. Teaching me how to breathe and crushing the goblin were likely all for his own sake. He’d acted like a lover, grazing my neck or laying me down on the bed, only to humiliate me. It was he who actually enacted all the vile things others only whispered about.
I’d known it all along, so why did it feel sorrowful again?
“Where are you going?”
I hastily changed the topic, biting the lump in my mouth hard to stop myself from crying. Getting emotional would only hurt me. I had no allies here.
“Wing C. The Control Tower.”
But then—
“When we get there, I’ll remove the shackle.”
At his words, the tightly pulled thread of tension snapped.
“…The, the Control Tower?”
Did he notice how quickly my expression lit up? Tilting his head as he stared at me, a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as if satisfied.
“Yeah.”
I had no choice but to admit it. I was completely being played in the palm of Deon’s hand.
* * *
Leaving Wing B was as easy as taking a stroll. This place strictly upheld the law of the jungle. Most of the monsters quietly moved out of the way upon hearing the top predator’s footsteps—or at least bowed their heads, even if curious.
Creak, creak. A beast that looked like a wolf rolled over and showed its belly in front of Deon, but he passed by without even glancing at it.
Deon’s only interest was me. He seemed concerned I might get bitten by another monster or die helplessly from dry heaving or something. I was newly reminded of how persistent human vengeance could be.
But there was one glimmer of hope.
He was dragging me by the shackles toward Wing C’s Control Tower.
We walked down a corridor like a chicken farm hallway, and finally, Deon and I descended to the first floor and opened a massive iron gate, likely once guarded by a watchman. The blinding light that seeped through forced me to tightly shut my eyes. When I cautiously opened them again, the brilliant sunlight and clear sky spread before me.
It felt like I had escaped a cave and seen the sun for the first time in my life.
Finally, we were outside.
Dazed, I turned my head and saw the dreaded exterior of Wing B. The massive box-like prison had not a single window, looking more like a sculpture than a building. Under the cloudless blue sky, the gloomy structure felt utterly out of place. The only opening, a large gate, looked grotesque like the maw of some monster.
Staring at it longer only soured my mood.
Turning my head quickly, I followed Deon along a cobblestone path leading to another wing. It was obvious they’d built the path using leftover granite from constructing Wing B to save costs.
We followed a red line embedded between the jagged, thorn-like stones. I’d seen it in the original story. The red line was the prisoners’ exclusive path. It served to separate prisoners from guards, and if any prisoner stepped off the line, they’d be immediately taken to the correction room for disobedience.
My heavy thoughts vanished as Deon stepped squarely on the red line with his bare feet. Without hesitation, he crossed the boundary and walked along the regular path used by guards.
Some prisoners and monsters who had made it outside glanced at him but quickly turned their heads.
One thing was certain—with Deon here, I wouldn’t be in danger.
Of course, that man himself was danger.
I glanced around quietly, but all I saw were prisoners poking at dead guards’ corpses or bickering among themselves.
It seemed they’d escaped their cells but not the prison itself. After all, not many could scale the massive wall that loomed at the horizon like a seawall. That towering wall—built perhaps to fend off giants—seemed over 30 meters tall even from a distance.
Dragged by my shackles, I stumbled along until a massive building came into view.
It wasn’t some shabby structure meant for throwing in beasts behind bars. Smooth walls, as if polished by silver marbles, gleamed around a gigantic iron gate that could easily accommodate ten adults standing side by side.
On the iron doors were engravings of lobelia flowers twined between plane trees, with a blindfolded woman—symbolizing the alliance between the Western and Southern Empires—etched above them as if floating in the sky.
It was breathtaking.
Or in other words—excessively luxurious.
“Officer.”
“Yes?”
“Doesn’t this building suit you perfectly?”
Smirking like he was barely holding back a laugh, he turned to stare at the castle.
“Looks like it’s about to collapse.”
With that, Deon lifted his thick leg and shoved the iron doors open as if breaking them. A thunderous boom shook the air and shimmering waves of heat rose from the ground.
Every time, I wondered—just how strong was this man? He’d gently held my throat one moment, then smashed a goblin’s skull the next, and now opened a five-meter-tall iron gate alone.
“What are you doing? Walk.”
When the filthy giant of a man opened the grand gates, an ornate corridor was revealed. Walking into Wing C, Deon looked strangely out of place—yet perfectly at home.
This was Wing C.
Where nobles from the Western and Southern Empires—those who committed horrific crimes—were imprisoned.
* * *
My eyes widened and darted around. That was me.
If Wing B was where the lower-class riffraff gathered, Wing C was where the elite sat atop the pyramid. Wing B was damp and poorly ventilated, but Wing C basked in sunlight under a clear sky.
The moment I stepped inside, I felt like I was walking on clouds and instinctively looked down. A luxurious maroon carpet covered the floor, embroidered with roses and other unknown flowers in golden thread.
They even allowed prisoners here to enjoy sunlight.
White pillars lined the walls like a temple, leading to outdoor gardens, and occasionally, looking up, I saw chandeliers sparkling in the sunlight instead of spider webs. The ceiling was adorned with murals depicting the history of both empires.
Since the prisoners were all nobles, each family must have donated items to create this small palace.
Now this—this was a fitting backdrop for a romance fantasy novel.
I’d never lived in a fancy castle, but it had to be more comfortable than a grim prison. Another thing that stood out in the corridor were the portraits—middle-aged men with Greek-god-like features hanging along the walls.
I got caught up staring at one gold-framed painting and met the blue eyes of the man in the portrait. Huh. The eyes moved.
Stunned, I was dragged along by Deon’s shackle before I could react. It must have been installed to monitor prisoners.
“Seems like the nobles treat this place as a resort.”
Deon seemed to share my thoughts. Surprisingly, he wasn’t angry despite the stark contrast between Wings B and C. He simply glanced at the moving eyes in the painting and looked away.
Deon, having quickly grasped the situation, stared straight ahead like a predator pacing its territory. He and I were completely different—I looked around curiously, while he kept his eyes fixed.
Perhaps he found it natural. Wing C was a prison for nobles. If it were as barren as Wing B, he might’ve laughed at how little separated nobility from commoners.
Instead of bars, the corridor was lined with closed mahogany doors—like a dormitory. If not for the heavy locks, it might’ve been mistaken for a residence.
But why was it so quiet?
Now that I’d grown used to the luxurious interior of Wing C, I realized something—there were no signs of life.
It was artificial.
Like I’d stumbled into a well-crafted set.
No matter how noble they were, these were still prisoners of Dreys Prison. In such a situation, one would expect some noise, but the only sound was the press of my leather boots against the floor. Deon, still barefoot, walked silently.
“…Lady Lemoni?”
That’s when it happened.
Someone, having sensed our presence, quickly withdrew their hand from the lock and raised their head. Lady Lemoni. They knew my name. And the way they addressed me—it meant they were a noble too.
Who was it?
I wracked my brain, trying to remember from the original story, but the man spoke first with a polite bow.
“We’re both from the Western Empire. It’s an honor to finally meet you. I am Jays from the Marquisate of Letry.”
Ah. I didn’t know him.
I gave a faint smile and nodded.
Unlike the standard-issue prison garb, the man’s hair was slicked back with mousse, and both his face and hands were unusually clean.
Oiled, buttery blond hair. Untanned skin. Gentle, light green eyes. Every feature screamed nobility.
He was the complete opposite of Deon.
“What brings Lady Lemoni to Wing C? The prison must be in chaos.”
He spoke as if he already understood everything, even before I could respond.
“By the way, what happens now? Will the prison return to normal? If the Western Empire—or even just my Letry family—knew of the state of this place, they would’ve come immediately. Truly unfortunate.”
It sounded like idle noble chatter at a banquet. He clearly knew I was a guard and was trying to get closer.
“…I’m assessing the situation.”
No matter his noble background, he was still a prisoner. And not just of any jail—this was Dreys Prison. He must’ve been pretty unhinged too.
I chose stiff formal speech, trying to draw a boundary. But Jays seemed like someone desperate to find an ally.
Seeing me walking with Deon, he forced a nervous smile.
It was clear he wanted to talk to me and hesitantly looked at Deon.
“Oh, is that the divine beast I’ve heard of? I thought he’d be some filthy mutt that turns into a monster, but he’s actually…”
A short silence.
“…surprisingly normal. If we cleaned him up and dressed him properly, he could cause a stir in high society…”
His voice, mesmerized while staring at Deon, suddenly trailed off.
