Return to the Cell
I had been waiting a long time since coming back to the prison.
I hadn't noticed it while being struck, but receiving every lash of the whip one by one took a considerable amount of time.
Even counting just one minute per strike, the difference in torture time between Luia and me alone was over thirty minutes. Yejin's was fifty. Jaehee's would take a full hour more.
"Haa. Ugh…."
Alone, I leaned against the wall and tried to cool the heat still lingering in my body.
My flesh throbbed. The wounds and bruises scattered across me seemed determined to keep me from resting, jabbing and aching no matter how still I stayed.
But I had to recover as quickly as I could, while I still had even a little relief. If I wanted the next inmate to rest even slightly more comfortably, I had to get comfortable first.
At least the wounds weren't so severe that I couldn't manage. The bruises still bothered me constantly, and the burn from the strike to my side flared hot, but leaning quietly against the wall, I could feel it easing little by little.
With my arms cuffed behind my back and shackles on my legs, I couldn't find a truly comfortable position—yet simply being able to rest in a space free of torture was, in itself, enormous.
"Haa. Hoo…."
I needed to steady my breathing. And… today was over. Once everyone returned, we could settle into position and sleep.
The simple fact that another day had passed felt like a small joy. The days remaining were still far longer, but since there was no escaping this place anyway, it was better to take comfort in the time already spent than to despair over what was left.
— Clank.
"Heuk… haa. Haaeu… heuk… heuk-heuk."
The door opened. An inmate crawled inside.
At my cellmate's return, I pressed myself as far back as I could, making space so she could enter more easily.
A woman came in with slender golden hair fluttering. Inmate A711. Luia.
"Keuk…! Haa. Haa. Ugh."
Before the door closed, the light that seeped into the cell revealed her body in ruins. She had taken thirty-five more lashes than I had. The fair, milky skin she once had was nowhere to be found—her entire body was covered in nothing but red stripes.
It was irregular. Her thighs and buttocks had split open under the repeated whipping, blood running down…. A whip must have caught her face as well; a scratch-like mark remained on her cheek.
"Kyaheuk… ha. Haeuk… haaeu… euha."
She couldn't even breathe properly. Probably from the searing pain. Tears streamed endlessly down her face as she leaned against the wall.
She looked so pitiful it hurt to watch.
"Are you okay?"
I asked, worried. With her larger chest and Western build, the risk of hits to vital spots had been high. And with her gasping like that, I could tell instinctively that her breasts had taken a heavy beating.
Even among the tatters of her prison uniform, the chest area was shredded worst of all—unable to cover her nipples, clearly displaying the bruised marks beneath. Those weren't mere bruises. They were the traces of skin that had failed under countless lashes, wounds layered with pain until the flesh itself had turned raw and red.
"It's… a bit hard."
She couldn't bring herself to say she was fine. Luia rested her back against the wall.
Neither of us could find a comfortable position no matter how we sat—our entire bodies had been whipped. The cold wall and freezing floor might help cool the heat in our skin, but the hardness itself brought a stinging agony wherever it touched a wound. It was almost unbearable.
"Want to lean on me?"
"Don't push yourself."
"Just until Yejin gets here. And I only took fifty. I'm fine."
"…Alright."
So we decided to rely on each other. Sitting back-to-back, the pain felt lighter than when we had been against the wall alone.
We continued talking by tracing words into each other's palms.
"It really is better."
"Yeah."
"You're Nayoon, right?"
"That's right. Luia."
"Oh. You remembered. Good memory. How old are you?"
"Me? Twenty-three."
"Really? I'm twenty-one—can I call you unnie?"
"Nah, it's fine. Just talk casually."
"Haha. I will talk casually. But I'm still gonna call you unnie. It's more comfortable for me."
"Yeah. Okay."
Like close friends texting each other. Only now, two days after meeting, could we finally speak freely.
Had the other inmates been talking like this yesterday, when I wasn't here yet? My body was exhausted, but I felt a twinge of regret at having joined the group a day late—both Yejin and Luia spoke to me so easily.
No. Thinking about it, the first cellmate who had spoken to me and helped me was A522. Jaehee.
…With that stray thought, I leaned against Luia again.
"Haa. Hoo…."
I exhaled. Maybe because the door was shut, the cell felt like it was growing humid. Come to think of it, it had been damp and clammy yesterday too. In an environment with no proper ventilation, the inmates' breath, their wounds, and… the various fluids from their bodies seemed to hang in the air, circulating endlessly.
It was another reminder of how wretched the cell conditions truly were.
"Resting helps a little. Body's still stiff, but by dawn it'll be fine."
"Dawn? I don't think I'll recover by then…. You're amazing."
"No. Possible. That hazy moisture in the cell. It's a recovery agent. Small wounds heal."
"Really?"
While I was thinking that, Luia shared a valuable piece of information. The humidity I had assumed came only from the inmates turned out to be one of Prison Island's special systems—and suddenly it felt different.
Not that it made anything more comfortable. Still, it was another moment to realize the truth of this place: Prison Island had every kind of device imaginable, all designed somehow to torment us.
— Clank.
The door opened again. Another cellmate returning.
Luia and I broke from our leaning position and shifted to make room for her. And one more thing—we had to greet her return with even more careful silence.
"Haeuk… keuk! Heuk. Heoeok."
Our fellow inmate A522, Jaehee, struggled inside. Behind her, a man's legs came into view. Familiar shoes, familiar trousers. And that terrifying voice at our ears.
"A522. Park Jaehee. Get inside."
"Keuheuk… Yes.… Euheuk."
Leviathan. He kicked Jaehee's rear as she crawled on her hands and knees. She toppled from the impact and had to thrash and scramble just to get into the cell. Even lifting one foot, one step, looked agonizing—she practically dragged herself in on her shoulders before Leviathan locked the cell door behind her.
— Clank. Bang. Rattle.
"Have a good night."
With that announcement of the day's end, Leviathan left.
Once he was gone, Luia and I approached Jaehee, who was still gasping on the floor, unable even to get into a proper position.
"Jaehee. Stay with us."
"Keuheuk…!! Ah… eueueuk!"
Ah—!
I hurriedly pressed my fingers to her thigh to write, calling to her as she lay collapsed as if unconscious—but the only answer was a moan close to a scream. Even that light touch of a fingertip. The place a whip had already raked across made Jaehee pour out a sound of terrible agony.
I hadn't meant to hurt her. I felt so sorry I could barely stand it.
"Quiet! Don't make a sound! Want me to drag you back out to the torture room?"
"…!"
Hearing Jaehee's moan, Leviathan stopped in his tracks and shouted. Even with the cell door between us, his warning struck like lightning—pure terror. One more sound and we would truly be hauled back to the torture chamber.
That couldn't happen.
In the dark cell, Luia's eyes met mine. She nodded, showing she thought the same. I read her intent and pulled my hand away from Jaehee.
"Euheuk… haeuk… euk…."
For now, her stability came first.
"Haa. Heoeok… eueuk…. Heuk."
Labored breaths. Her face was a portrait of suffering. But worse still was the state of her body.
…It was horrific.
Having taken more than twice the number of lashes I had, her body was ruined beyond any word like "wrecked." The prison uniform hanging on her was completely shredded—only scraps clung to her waist and thighs. Bruises covered her, and in many places the skin had split open, seeping pus.
Her thighs and back were swollen, the raised flesh ridged like railroad tracks in a grotesque pattern. Her breasts bore wounds so deep I feared they might tear free entirely, just as the torture-room alarm had once warned.
She looked like she needed a hospital immediately. But Jaehee clenched her teeth and endured. Thankfully she was conscious—she just didn't speak. She only moaned, curling up on the cell floor.
Luia and I pressed ourselves into the corner so she could rest even a little more easily. We were uncomfortable and in pain too, but looking at Jaehee's condition, we couldn't bring ourselves to complain.
The space was so narrow that even with us against the wall, there was a limit to how she could lie down. And even with room given, the cuffs and shackles prevented any truly comfortable posture—she couldn't simply stretch out and rest.
Was that why? After a long stretch of soft groaning, Jaehee began to move little by little.
Her head came closer. Sensing what she wanted, I knelt and cradled her head, offering what support I could so she could lean more comfortably in the cramped space.
Luia shifted toward Jaehee's back, positioning herself so Jaehee's hand could reach her leg. Then she placed her own hand against my forearm.
Luia had volunteered herself as messenger. Thanks to her, Jaehee's words could reach me.
"Thank you. Just for a little while. Sorry."
The first message that came through made tears well up for no reason I could name.
That first night, when she had soothed me through the agony of the Stimulation Spores. Last night, when she had shifted her body so I could lie a little more comfortably even though I couldn't sleep deeply. Those memories overlaid this moment—and her apologizing even for this small kindness stabbed at my conscience instead.
"It's fine. I'm the one who should thank you. Rest easy. When you feel better, we can talk again."
I passed the message to her through Luia. Luia kept shifting her position, trying to relay words between Jaehee and me. But neither of us had anything more to say.
So that everyone could rest. We simply told Luia we were fine, and in silence we felt each other's body heat until the aftershocks of pain began to fade.
Jaehee's sobbing tears touched my thigh. Even she—whom I had thought so strong, a master of prison life—was still nothing more than an ordinary inmate. That truth settled over me with absolute clarity.
As long as we were here, we would never be at ease. Even though this was a path we had chosen ourselves, the cruelty exceeded anything I had imagined, and I shuddered.
Time passed that way.
By now we should have been asleep. Without a clock we couldn't know the exact hour, but for tomorrow's schedule we had to force ourselves to rest somehow.
More than anything, Jaehee's condition was poor—the pain must have been overwhelming, because fever rose from her body.
"Are you okay? Want to switch?"
"No. I'm fine. More importantly… Yejin's late."
"Yeah."
Unable to sleep through the searing pain, we were spending the night wide-eyed. Jaehee, leaning on my thigh, dozed off now and then—but the pain always woke her within seconds.
As more time passed, the worry grew. The dread of how hard tomorrow would be if we didn't sleep was one problem. The other was Yejin, who still hadn't returned after so long—and that worry only deepened.
At first I assumed it was simply because of the high number of lashes. But thinking carefully, Yejin's count had been lower than Jaehee's. If that were the reason, she should have arrived before Jaehee.
Jaehee resolved the question for us. Through written words, she told us Yejin had been taken to the guards' office.
Come to think of it, during the afternoon feedback session, Leviathan had said something about running a durability test on her. Right. That must be it.
…With that thought, we waited a long while longer.
Exhausted from waiting, we drifted off several times. And just as Luia had said, something like a recovery agent seemed to circulate through the prison air—my body grew noticeably lighter, and not long after, Jaehee also regained some strength.
The scars still covered her, but looking closely, the areas around the wounds were beginning to close. At this rate, she would recover before long.
"…."
The three of us sat leaning against the wall. We tried the same positions we had used last night, relying on each other, doing everything we could to fall asleep—but it was useless.
The Stimulation Spores stirred without warning. The wounds still covering our bodies kept stinging without end. But of all the things keeping us awake, the worst was the worry for Yejin, who still had not come back.
"How long has it been?"
"Feels like a few hours…?"
I finally couldn't hold back and asked Jaehee. Writing still seemed hard for her—she let out a small moan the moment a finger touched her—but she too was awake and restless from boredom, so she joined the conversation without hesitation.
The three of us talked through handwriting on skin. Most of it was worry about Yejin.
When would she come? She had been whipped so badly that night—no matter how physically strong Yejin was, was she really alright?
The worries stacked and layered on top of each other.
And after even more time had passed—when all three of us, unable to fight the exhaustion any longer, were nodding off—
I was the first to open my eyes at the sound of footsteps approaching from far away.
"…?"
Then the sound rang out.
— Clank. Bang. Rattle.
Along with the opening of the cell door, what stood outside was—
"Keueueuk…!"
Yejin, her limbs limp, being dragged by her hair—and Leviathan, holding her like an object.