Could It Be…?
The account that came from Ba'al's mouth.
Once the guards had heard the full summary of the counselor's conversation with A688—Kang Seoa—each of them wrestled with the problem in his own way.
Among them, Diabolos, whose word carried the most weight, finished sorting his thoughts and spoke first.
"So. To sum it up… she developed PTSD from the grief of losing a child, applied here as some kind of self-imposed punishment, and then completely lost it when A713—another death-row inmate—turned out to have the same name as the daughter she lost. What kind of fucked-up coincidence is that…"
"Yes, that's correct. She said it was a rather impulsive decision."
"Hmm… So what's her choice?"
"…She wants to stay. To serve out the punishment for the sins she committed, as well."
"I see."
The people who heard her decision. Even with the warden present, the room buzzed with divided opinions.
In particular, Marmon—Seoa's assigned guard—could no longer hold back. He rose from his seat and spoke.
"Warden. This isn't right."
"Isn't right? Then what? The inmate is volunteering to stay and you want us to kick her out?"
"…No. You've seen her, haven't you? You want us to just leave her here like this? What happens if she tries to kill herself again? No matter how I look at it, keeping an inmate in a state as unstable as A688 is unreasonable. This is the same as killing her!"
A few of the other guards nodded at his words.
Prison Island was a gathering place for people with many different purposes, but the most important among them was the inmates' own satisfaction—and their safety.
With the exception of outliers like Asmode, the guards here were elites who had been thoroughly vetted on that very point.
Only those who completed ideological training, specialized safety instruction, and the head office's special courses in human-body management and psychology could become guards. Even then, to keep from losing their original purpose, they were required to return to headquarters for one or two months of retraining every year. Guard life was nearly as high-intensity as an inmate's.
Of course, all of it was repaid with high salaries and promotions—but the short average tenure among the staff was, perhaps, only natural.
Even to elites like themselves, the environment on Prison Island was brutal. Leaving an inmate with a wounded mind in a place like that was not, they believed, the duty of a guard—or of a human being.
"So you want to release her? Are you out of your mind?"
"…What do you mean by that?"
"Hey! If we release A688 right now, do you think she's going to go, 'Ah, now I can live comfortably'? No! Marmon. Listen carefully. Before we're guards, we're project managers for Waltz Production. Don't think with your feelings!"
"Feelings? I'm doing this for A688's sake—!"
"Bullshit! For her sake, my ass! Just say managing an inmate like that is hard if it's hard! Christ. This bastard Marmon. You think talking is enough? Release A688? Just send her out? Have you lost it? What kind of decision do you think A688 will make if we just let her go? If you don't even give punishment to someone who came here to be punished, what kind of punishment do you think she'll inflict on herself?!"
"…"
"You think we accepted A688 without knowing? We knew everything. What she'd been through, what her situation was now. Whether we should take her or not! You heard it directly from A688 during the interview, and I explained it to you separately afterward!"
It was an opinion only someone like Marmon—more concerned with safety than anyone—could have voiced.
But even he had no answer left against the warden's rebuttal.
Just as Warden Diabolos said: releasing an unstable woman like her was, in the worst case, the same as pushing her toward her own death.
Having failed to consider that part, Marmon closed his mouth and sat back down.
A subordinate's mistake.
Ordinarily Diabolos would have soothed him, but this time he held his tongue, hoping the man would come to the realization on his own.
Instead, for the sake of the future, he made a proposal to his subordinates.
"The inmates here all passed psychiatric evaluation and physical examination before they came in. A688 was close, but she cleared the bar, so she was admitted. Our job is to manage the people who came through proper procedure. But this time luck wasn't on our side… and the incident happened. So there's only one thing we have to do."
"…"
"We have to stop it from happening again. We still have other inmates to manage, so essential personnel are dismissed… the rest of us keep meeting. And check with headquarters. Pass it to the operations team and find out whether the measures we've come up with are safe to apply in the field."
"…Is there a measure?"
"We'll have to think of one somehow."
One by one, the men who had been clutching their heads began offering ideas.
In that way the guards spent hours—then days—exchanging opinions and developing their thoughts.
Warden Diabolos's proposal and the field ideas were submitted to the specialists at headquarters for review.
Psychological counselors, lawyers, medical staff, researchers—hundreds of people examined the matter.
And then the conclusion.
On the basis of that conclusion, the warden issued his orders.
After the execution ended, Yejin and I were locked away in a place called the detention cell.
"…This is boring."
"Yeah."
Here we were allowed to speak without vocalization permits, and there was room enough to stretch our legs out fully.
It was still only about one pyeong of cramped space, but both Yejin and I were grateful simply to have been given an environment like this.
"Do they always let people live this comfortably after an execution?"
"You call this comfortable? We're still cuffed, the shackles are still on, and with these lights we can't even tell how much time has passed."
"Mmm… for this much, though…"
"Well, compared to the cell it's better. If it weren't for the Stimulation Spores it'd be a lot better for sure… Fuck. Again—ngh… nn."
"Want me to bite it for you?"
"Not that bad… no. Hn…! Ugh… Just let me turn over and lie on my side for a bit."
"Okay. Sure."
Time spent with nothing to do.
Even so, recovering took quite a long while.
Yejin and I, who had endured severe torture under the name of a Special Execution, needed three full days just for the swelling in our cunts to go down, and several more days after that simply to regain our strength.
Ordinarily a death-row inmate's physical recovery used the Recovery Room, but Special Executions—while lighter on pure physical torture—did not permit use of the Recovery Room.
Yejin, who had suffered the branding-iron torture, had at least been taken to the Recovery Room for burn treatment, but they fixed only that one part and sent her back with everything else left as it was.
Because of that, Yejin and I had to spend a long time waiting for our bodies to heal, and even after the lawyer's visit we spent several more days groaning in pain.
"…Haa."
I looked at Yejin, who was lying with her back to me.
The spore stimulation seemed worse than she had claimed; her shoulders were trembling.
…But why?
Watching her back, I pulled out the question I had been holding onto.
After the lawyer's visit ended, Leviathan had come back into the room where we were confined, wanting to hear my final decision.
At that time he had asked me:
"So. Have you decided?"
Leviathan, deliberately confirming with me something he could have simply heard from the lawyer.
At his question I had nodded, then answered.
"Yes. I'll remain as an inmate. I'll serve out the rest of my term here."
My choice was to stay.
No matter how agonizing and vicious the experience had been, giving up after only this much would have left me with too much regret.
The Special Execution had, without question, delivered pain worthy of the name "execution."
Even now, if I closed my eyes I felt as though the stimulation would start again in my cunt, and the thought alone was torment.
But why was it?
The sensation of Leviathan gently taking my body seemed to wrap around and cradle every bit of that pain.
Perhaps because of that—or perhaps not—I couldn't be sure.
Having received that much care, the choice had been easy to make.
Even if I came to regret it later… at least for now, the desire to stay here was stronger.
Even if I could no longer expect any more gentleness from him.
Right now, I simply wanted to remain.
"All right. Understood."
As if some of that feeling had gotten through, Leviathan showed a smile that was unlike him.
It had been only a fleeting instant… but I hadn't imagined it, had I?
"Then I'll explain the schedule going forward. For the next few days you'll stay in the detention cell. After that, your continued incarceration will be decided in the form of a trial. If your mind changes while you're in detention, say so in the courtroom."
"Yes. Understood."
Even though I had made a careful choice, the knowledge that there was still one more chance let me feel a little more at ease.
I wouldn't change my decision, but the difference between having a safety net and not having one was large.
"And… I'm telling you this because you may not remember, but the execution was terminated early due to A688's suicide attempt."
"What? A suicide… attempt?"
"Yes. She didn't die. Word is she was fully regenerated in the Recovery Room and has regained consciousness. Anyway, that's what an execution is, so if you don't want to be dragged back to the execution grounds again, be careful."
"Yes… I understand."
I also received additional news about A688—Seoa.
No wonder I had no memory of the ending; something must have happened.
Whether I had lost the memory from shock, or whether the edging torture had been so severe that my brain overloaded and erased it, I couldn't know—but thinking of the state Seoa had been in the last time I saw her, it almost seemed inevitable.
…Then Seoa would definitely choose early termination.
I nodded to myself at the thought.
Leviathan, who had been watching me, kept silent for a moment, then left one last instruction before taking me to the detention cell.
"For reference, Yejin was too far gone, so I didn't use her. The only one I used was you… keep that in mind."
"…Ah. Yes. Understood."
"Then we'll move. Once you're back in the prison, there won't be any of this gentleness… so prepare yourself."
"…Yes."
Leaving words similar to those from not long before, he walked away—and for a moment his cheek looked faintly flushed. Was that my imagination?
I wasn't someone who had much contact with others, but in that instant… I could sense a little of what was in his heart.
"Haa…"
I let out another sigh.
If Leviathan's feelings really were what I thought they were, what was I supposed to do?
But whether those feelings were pure affection remained an open question.
To call it affection—the harshness with which Leviathan treated me in the prison was not something that could appear in an ordinary relationship between a man and a woman.
If he had looked after me or treated me gently, it might have been different.
The severe demeanor-penalty punishments and the constant threats of solitary confinement were, if anything, harsher than the other guards'. They were never mild.
And so a small conflict arose inside me.
This feeling… surely I haven't started to like him, have I?
No. Even if that were the case… it would only be a delusion born from hoping he would come back quickly and free me while I was locked up or being tortured.
That was the only way I could think of it.
"Whew, it's a little better now. By the way, Nayoon. The trial's coming up soon—what's your decision? Are you leaving? Or Grade B?"
While I had been lost in thought, Yejin—freed from the spore stimulation—pushed herself upright.
At the question that came with it, I shook my head.
"No. I'm staying."
"Oh-ho~ Really? That's a relief. Then we can be together."
"So you were planning to stay too, Yejin?"
"Me? Well… after how many executions I've already been through, if I was going to leave I would've left ages ago. But I need to be more careful from now on. Wow… a real Special Execution… I can't do that. I'd rather just take a regular execution… this one's not for me."
Yejin smiled with a bitter expression.
But from the way her shoulders still trembled, the aftereffects of the Special Execution seemed to linger heavily.
Whenever the Special Execution was mentioned, she shook with a conditioned reflex.
In that respect, I was lucky not to have residual aftereffects.
Even the erased memories, in a way, felt like fortune had smiled on me.
"Anyway, looks like A688 really did choose discharge. Nails through the hands and feet and branding-iron torture… yeah. Biting her tongue was the right call. Wow—if it had been me… tch. Honestly I think I would've held on, but still, the branding iron… holy shit… I think I'd piss myself."
"Your language's getting rough again."
"That's how turned on I am. I get crude when I'm horny next to someone I'm comfortable with."
"Tch. What kind of excuse is that."
In the boredom, there wasn't much for us to talk about.
We shared stories about the execution for the sake of solidarity, or compared it to the cellmates waiting back in the cell, debating uselessly whether it was better to take an execution and sit in detention or simply stay in the cell—empty arguments, that was all.
The only extra information we gained was the stories of experiences she had gone through before.
Because Yejin had been through so many executions, the tales she spun were vicious and yet full of content that made the lower belly heat up.
I wanted to masturbate just from listening.
To anyone else it would have been nothing but torture stories, but for us they were dirty talk packed with things that got us wet, and that was how we passed the time.
But human memory has its limits.
As thirst came for us—who couldn't even drink water freely—we had no choice but to reduce how often we spoke.
"I just… want to go back already."
"Yeah."
In the end, boredom overcame the pain and shook our hearts.
It was a stupid thought, but we knew it and still found ourselves wishing we could return to the prison—that was how empty the days had become—when,
—Clank.
The detention cell door opened.
And one person stepped inside.