Field Work
Thirty minutes after the drone lifted off.
Sihoo rubbed the sleep from his eyes and rose from his seat.
Contrary to what the inmates believed, Prison Island was not far from the city at all.
A straight-line distance of roughly sixty kilometers. They always spoke of it as if the women were being hauled off to some remote foreign shore, yet the island sat on the same national soil.
The boat simply took the long way around, erasing any sense of proximity and making the journey deliberately grueling.
It was a calculated device meant to deepen the isolation of inmates who never learned the truth. In reality the island was close enough that daily drone commutes were entirely practical.
“Hoo.”
The scenery outside had already left the deep blue sea behind and shifted into the heart of the city. The drone itself had touched down; its propellers were spinning down atop a building.
Arrival. Have a good day.
The hatch opened with the artificial intelligence’s polite farewell. Sihoo stretched the stiffness from his body once, then stepped down.
A woman he had contacted in advance was already waiting outside.
“Been a while, hasn’t it?”
“Tell me about it. I pulled an all-nighter on overtime yesterday, and today I’m expected at headquarters… Seriously, whoever set this schedule is sadistic.”
“Then who told you to work overtime yesterday? I keep saying take it easy.”
“Hearing that from you, Manager, feels weird as hell. Anyway, I’m exhausted, so let’s just get the work done so I can clock out.”
“Fine. Do that.”
The woman addressed as Manager belonged to Waltz Production’s Operations Support Team. Sihoo followed her off the rooftop drone pad.
Behind him the drone, its current task complete, took on another employee and lifted away for its next assignment.
A few seconds in the elevator, and the corridor that appeared bore the building’s owner in large, unmistakable letters.
WALTZ PRODUCTION
Confirming the name of the company they both served, the two passed through the security gate and into the office floor.
The workspace was lined with glowing boards and cascading symbols.
“B-grade is definitely more popular than A-grade.”
“Yeah. Makes sense. Not many inmates want something as hardcore as A-grade. It’s gotten worse lately. B-grade is so booked you wait three months even after you reserve. How’s A looking?”
“You already know the rough numbers. Still about three empty slots. Two more release next month, so it’ll look even emptier.”
“Still, re-incarceration rates are high there. It’ll fill again.”
“…Yeah. Whatever.”
A dashboard displayed every inmate’s data by grade, reduced to clean columns of numbers.
It was morning, and the office hummed with the usual rush of administrative work. Sihoo traded greetings with a few people who recognized him, then hurried toward Operations Support—the real reason he had come.
Today’s purpose was simple: to requisition the supplies needed to manage his inmates.
“All right, let’s see. What did you put in the reservation for?”
They reached the support team. On the surface it looked like any other back-office department, yet the large space behind the desks made it clear this was no ordinary company.
Chains, handcuffs, restraint gear, adult toys, medicines, ragged prison uniforms, whips, canes—an entire arsenal of torture implements sat on proud display.
“Four sets of clothes, for starters.”
“Four sets. Got it. We’ve got some good ones this time—dirtied up with real yellow clay. I’ll give you those.”
“If possible, ones that tear easily. One of the last batch looked like it had been cut with a knife; A522 almost noticed.”
He selected the prison uniforms first, remembering the ones shredded by yesterday’s whip session, and ordered fresh replacements.
Clean enough to maintain body temperature, yet deliberately abrasive on the inside so they worked perfectly with the Stimulation Spores. Sihoo was far more particular about them than most guards.
As he fussed over the order, the female manager muttered under her breath and tapped the details into her terminal.
“That so? Hmm… looks like some B-grade stock got mixed in by mistake. Fine. I’ll pick only the ones that look hand-torn this time. Or do you want to tear them yourself? Stick a mannequin in one and hit it a few times with a whip—”
“No need. Better to put them on the inmates and tear them that way.”
“Yeah? Well, I could wear one for you if you want~? Interested?”
“…If you’re that eager, just re-enroll as an inmate, A129.”
“Hey—don’t call me by my inmate number here. It makes me wet. I’m already waiting in the staff lottery and the wait times are brutal. Even if I get in, three months is the max… Ugh. I’d need at least half a year.”
“Give me a break.”
Her grumbling was not solely about Sihoo’s fussiness. A number of Waltz Production employees had started as inmates themselves; whenever active guards visited headquarters, those with prison experience tended to let their true feelings slip and sidle closer. Her behavior belonged to the same pattern.
Knowing that, Sihoo simply played along at a comfortable distance.
“And grab some meds for me. I already mailed the list.”
“Yeah, I saw it. But Sihoo—”
“Yes, Manager?”
“Looking at the list… there were contraceptives. Turns out they’re the same active ingredients as the period suppressants we put in the evening meals. I’m cutting those.”
“Oh, really? So I don’t have to worry about pregnancy at all?”
“Right. No matter how much you finish inside, nothing’s going to take. But why contraceptives all of a sudden? You don’t usually come inside anyway.”
“Ah…”
Under her pointed stare Sihoo pouted for a second, then decided to come clean. Rumors had already spread across Prison Island; hiding it would only breed worse ones.
“Hoo~ Is that so? The new inmate looks that much like A479?”
“Yes. Face is a little similar, and the overall vibe is close too.”
“Well, considering how hard you fell for A479 back then, I can see you getting greedy enough to jump her at least once. But you know, right?”
“I know. The Warden already gave me the talk. I have no intention of gaslighting an inmate or forcing anything out of personal lust, so don’t worry.”
“Mm… looking at your usual style, I didn’t think you would. Wait—did you just say she looks like A479?”
“Yes. Why the sudden reaction?”
The manager’s eyes lit with sudden recognition. She pulled out her personal terminal and scrolled through her SNS feed. A moment later she enlarged a few photos from one profile and held the screen out to him.
“Sihoo. Is the new inmate this woman?”
“Huh? Um… wait, she does look similar…”
In the photo a young woman posed in the middle of a park. Sihoo studied the face carefully. Just as the manager said, she resembled A713—same hair, same eye color, and above all the same atmosphere in her expression.
“What’s the inmate’s real name?”
“Lee Nayoon.”
“That’s her!”
“What is?”
Then the final nail.
Her voice landed in his ear like a hammer.
“She’s the little sister. A479’s real name was Lee Hayoon.”
“…What?”
“Oh right—you only started getting real names recently, so of course you wouldn’t know. …Or should I just ask Hayoon? I meet her every month anyway. I told you before—the married-ex-inmate gathering. I can message her right now. Want me to?”
“Ah…”
Faced with the new fact, Sihoo stared at the terminal in her hand and bit his lip.
The single word that finally left him:
“First… let’s finish the order. …Do you have any of that lobster-powder gruel for special meals?”
After long deliberation, his decision was to table it.
On the return drone, after finishing the requisitions at headquarters and resting briefly at home, Sihoo’s expression was dark.
“Her little sister…”
In the end he had refused further confirmation. Even when the manager offered, he held to the principle that Prison Island inmates must remain cut off from society, and that prying into personal backgrounds violated a guard’s duty. He had forced curiosity and interest back down.
The regret, however, would not leave him.
He found himself remembering A479—the first woman he had ever fallen for at a glance, the first he had wanted badly enough to risk a relationship with while she was still incarcerated.
A woman who endured torture well yet always carried a fragile, pitiable air. A woman who, sensing the raw inexperience of a rookie guard, had adjusted the intensity of their sessions to match his mood and limits. Sihoo had been so captivated that desire and youthful blood overrode caution; he had confessed to her while she was still his inmate.
“And got rejected… In the end she suspended her sentence, and I was removed as her assigned guard.”
He muttered the outcome of that confession to himself. As Prison Island came into view, the memories of every meeting with A479 unspooled behind his eyes.
After the confession he had found her presence unbearable. He avoided her even during training hours; once he was formally reassigned he made certain their paths never crossed again.
Back then the childishness had been strong. Because they had shared three months of daily life, he had believed that if he acted cold long enough she would eventually look back.
In the end he had even punished her out of that same indifference, stacking Demeanor Penalty Points until she broke—yet all of it had been nothing more than a fleeting dream.
No matter how hard he tried, he could never become her assigned guard again. His affection had been so obvious that everyone noticed; Warden Diabolos had even offered a conditional deal: “If A479 herself requests it, I’ll reassign you.”
It never happened.
That first chapter ended with A479’s release.
No—that first chapter simply ended. Later she chose re-incarceration. The moment Sihoo heard the news he immediately applied to be her guard again.
But A479 had already made her decision. She had deliberately set the option so that her previous assigned guard would not be reconnected to her.
A clear rejection.
And the re-incarcerated woman… had fallen for her new assigned guard—Marmon, as he was then—and married him.
Which was why Marmon himself had eventually transferred to an indoor post…
“Hoo… Come to think of it, yeah. The name on the wedding invitation was Lee Hayoon. With names that similar I should have noticed… Damn. Never even crossed my mind.”
Pulling up memories he had wanted to forget—memories he had deliberately tried to bury—filled his head with every link between A479 and A713.
Name, face, age, speech, atmosphere—everything.
Sihoo berated himself for his own shallowness and let the final fragment surface.
Their last meeting had been that wedding, more than a year ago now.
Marmon, then still a guard, had bowed in apology; A479 had bowed the same way. Standing before the bride Lee Hayoon, Sihoo had settled his feelings with a wedding gift large enough to match the size of the affection he had once held, and asked her one last question.
What had he lacked?
Her answer:
“Honestly, the obsession was a little heavy. But more than that… you were too soft. I wanted things that hurt more, that were harder, that left me wrecked—and a guard whose heart was already full of love simply couldn’t give me that. I learned that through you.”
“Through me?”
“Yes. So next time you find an inmate you like, break her at your own pace. The thing that exhausted me most was how you swayed every time I reacted.”
“….”
“So don’t make the same mistake again. And… I’m sorry for everything until now, and thank you. My first assigned guard—Leviathan.”
After that, A479 had left completely.
That memory—something he wanted to forget yet kept for the sake of the future—was why the moment he met A713 a few days earlier had felt like a second chance handed to him.
This time he would do it right.
This time he would shatter her at his own pace.
Even if she was only the remnant of A479, it would be enough.
He had no intention of treating an inmate with anything as grand as love, and—following the advice of every other guard—he had no intention of seeing her as a romantic partner.
Yet after only three days, the feeling A713 stirred in him was barely different from the affection he had once felt for A479.
So he had briefly considered indulging a little greed…
“Her little sister. For fuck’s sake.”
The fact that they were sisters bent his resolve just enough. No matter how he looked at it, the idea of touching the younger sister of the woman he had once loved left a sour taste.
By the time he returned to the guards’ quarters he had forced the thoughts into order.
Regardless of anything that had happened with A479, the relationship between himself and A713 here was perfectly clear.
Leviathan, now back in full uniform, sat at his desk and powered on the terminal.
“Haa… haa… ngh—”
“Just a little longer… Nayoon. Keeping your mouth open only makes it worse.”
“Mm… okay… hhkk…!”
The camera feed from the cell did not look good. Inmates suffering under prolonged confinement. Among them, A713—Lee Nayoon. Leviathan watched her and gave a single nod.
“Starting tomorrow I’ll handle you properly. I’ll make you tremble the second you see me.”
A wicked smile accompanied the vow.
It was still far too early to speak of affection; the shadow of A479 loomed large. At the very least, until her release he would never show weakness again.
Just as her older sister had wished—he would break Nayoon at his own pace.
Even if he could never possess her… he would not let her leave first out of disappointment.
He pulled the hidden bed from its recess and lay down, preparing for the next day’s schedule. Unlike the other guards who used the bed as a reward for inmates, he had never once laid a prisoner on it. There, he drifted into a light sleep.
…dreaming once more of the days he had spent with A479.