Chapter 49
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 49
Chapter Title: Recordak (1)
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That night, Elise had thoroughly memorized the play titled The Minstrel. Of course, she'd read it cover to cover back when she was fifteen, but she went through it once more anyway.
The plot itself was straightforward. A famous minstrel from the kingdom happens to receive an invitation from the king and heads to the palace for a performance. There, a series of events tied to his past unfold, culminating in an ordinary romance with the princess—or prince, depending on the version.
It was bland and thudding. Utterly devoid of any savoriness.
No wonder it ranked at the absolute bottom in recognition among the Latynel 23 Masterpieces.
"This won't do."
Elise set The Minstrel aside.
She pulled out The Cunning King instead—the top-ranked tragedy in the Latynel 23 Masterpieces.
This was the one. Something as flat as The Minstrel would never leave a deep impression.
She couldn't let that ignorant fool—who had no culture to speak of, yet somehow digested Latynel with inexplicable ease, a true wonder of the world—ruin the play.
No way could she entrust it to someone whose reading habits probably didn't even hit one book a month, whose thought processes were utterly shattered, those dead fish eyes...
"Haa."
But that was the reality she had to face. As much as she hated to admit it, his command of Latynel was objectively superior.
"...Tch."
How had things ended up like this?
If only she'd cut her sleep by an hour—or even just thirty minutes—starting at age eight to study Latynel instead.
Would she have avoided this humiliation?
Rubbing her temples, she opened her smartphone messenger app.
[Balan: Elise, whatcha up to~?]
[Tyric: Heard you're doing a play for the festival?]
[Silvin: Guess I'll check out the festival too lololol]
[Bell: You free in April?]
[Rae: T^T Elise lemme join pleeease T^T]
[Iliya: Elise, you're doing the festival thing, right~? Need any extra hands?]
There were still plenty of guys waiting for her to reach out first, but today there were quite a few girls too.
It was all because of the Mana High Festival. Word had somehow spread that she was putting on a play, and Professor Beaiche hadn't imposed any rule that all actors had to be Endex students.
That meant college kids whose hobby was musicals—or even straight-up theater and film majors—were messaging her left and right. They figured since it was an Endex festival, rubbing elbows with Endex alumni celebs would be good for networking.
"...Whatever."
She didn't need any of them right now.
Swipe swipe swipe swipe—
Elise scrolled down her messages and tapped the one saved as [Trash].
[Elise: Change the play. No Minstrel.]
This was what she hated most—initiating a chat with this pathetic loser first.
But for Sermones Aeterini, she had to endure.
[Elise: Saying it again. Change the play. No Minstrel. I won't even ask for The Cunning King. Even Bridge of Bellarus would do.]
He was someone she'd never have to see again after high school graduation anyway. And if by some twist of fate they crossed paths in the adult world, she'd crush him thoroughly with adult methods.
Just endure until the festival.
Elise, you can handle this much, right?
[Elise: By the way, have you even read all 23 Latynel Masterpieces? Bet you haven't.]
[Trash: Ugh, shut up. We're doing Minstrel. I'll revise the script myself, so don't worry—just practice your acting. I'm the writer.]
"...This trash."
Elise ground her teeth.
[Elise: You're wrong. Your thinking is off. No, your very existence is—]
"Ha..."
Elise let out a sigh to cool her anger. She forcibly suppressed her rage.
What she needed now was persuasion and coaxing. Pushing this type would only make him dig in harder.
[Elise: You're mistaken. Your idea might even be right in some ways. But it's too risky.]
[Elise: The Minstrel fights for last place—23rd or 22nd—in the Latynel 23 Masterpieces. Dead last. Occasionally snags second-to-last on a good day. Every poll, every vote.]
[Elise: Meanwhile, The Cunning King has been adapted into musicals, operas, even movies. Sky-high ratings. Do we really need to gamble when that's an option?]
[Elise: Here's a link. Column by Stellen, Latynel professor at Edshila University, ranking the 23. The Cunning King is #1, Minstrel is #23. Give it a read.]
[Trash: Let's take the risk. Nice, now I'm even more convinced.]
Elise bounced in her seat. She drummed her back against the chair. Stomped her feet.
[Trash: Problem is, it's already famous. Why remake something well-known? Not creative. Not bold. Let's do Minstrel. I'll write it right. Time for you to take a risk too.]
She couldn't take it anymore. Elise hammered out a reply at top speed.
[Elise: You're wrong. Your thinking is off. No, your very existence is wrong.]
[Elise: I don't get why you're so hung up on it, but just listen to me, okay?]
[Trash: Your Latynel isn't as good as mine.]
"..."
Elise's fingers froze.
[Fish Trash: Kidding. Trust me. I'll make it better. Or at least read it first and decide. Sending by Saturday. If it's bad, you rewrite it.]
Profanity welled up in her throat, but she swallowed it.
"...Fine, you're right. Do whatever you want."
Don't let it get to her.
If the revised script sucked, she could just squash him with influence and power.
No, of course it'd suck—she needed to start writing her own version right now.
Elise reached for her pen, then paused. She glanced at the time on her smartphone.
[00:00]
Midnight.
The day with her immediate problem had arrived: Wednesday.
"Recordak..."
Tomorrow, she was heading to that prison.
She'd told Rae her first choice was the Magic Tower, but from the start, her top pick had been Recordak.
"Jeez..."
The person Elise despised and loathed most.
Sion Askal was closing in fast, but for now, he still held the undisputed top spot: the true human trash criminal.
Tomorrow, she was going to meet him.
"...Already disgusting."
She murmured softly to herself, gazing up at the night sky as dark thoughts consumed her.
The next morning.
I arrived at my workplace for career experience day.
Above the gateway-like entrance, [Recordak I] was engraved.
Recordak was the name of the prison, and the I meant it was the first one. Edshila had a total of thirteen Recordaks in all, with conditions growing harsher the higher the number.
"Here I am."
Today, I was at that Recordak.
A mix of nostalgia and annoyance washed over me.
Still, Recordak I was located in the capital, so to inmates, it was practically a dream posting.
That didn't mean the prisoners were high-quality, though—just a cut above those in the higher-numbered ones.
The guy I'd been indebted to in my previous life was probably still here.
Lifer, after all.
Oh, how do I know so well?
I'd been an inmate myself.
"Familiar sight, huh?"
Lost in thought, I heard someone call out. It was Elise.
She slipped her hand through her hair, tossing her platinum locks back over her shoulder with a dramatic whoosh.
"Yeah."
"...Still not giving up on The Minstrel?"
"Didn't I tell you last night I wasn't?"
Elise bit her lip. A hot breath escaped between her teeth.
"Recordak. Suits you perfectly."
"What?"
How'd she guess right? Unexpected bullseye.
"Quit with the rotten side-eye. Ruins my mood first thing in the morning. Feels like bugs crawling on me. Not that I'd expect anything from a stubborn lump who doesn't even know what he's doing, without a speck of culture..."
This crazy woman suddenly went off the rails, words spilling out. The Minstrel really rubbed her the wrong way, huh.
"If you'd even read a few Latynel fairy tales—or hell, a single paper—you'd get it, but why are you so damn stubborn—"
"Hey. Shut your trap and fuck off."
Elise's words cut off. Her glaring eyes narrowed.
"...You've got a mouth like a whore."
"Before it gets whorier—"
She was already stalking away, heels clicking.
Anyway.
There were 63 seniors assigned—or stuck with—Recordak for career day. Plenty from other mana highs, but among the Endex crew, it was me, Elise, and...
—Whoa. Total stud.
—That's Gerkken, right?
Gerkken Kal Dun.
A desert-born guy whose name alone oozed presence.
"Well, hello~ Nice to meet ya all~"
Right on cue, the Recordak gates opened, and out stepped a hat-wearing man.
"Deputy Warden Gejin of Recordak Prison."
Weasel-faced guy, Deputy Warden Gejin.
No idea who he was.
Didn't exist in the future when I was locked up.
"Endex students and seniors, right? Welcome. Come on in. It's cold out there."
He led us inside. The 63 seniors filed through the passage into the prison.
"This here's the hall."
A towering hall. For security, there were doors and locks galore between passages leading to the inmates' living areas.
In my day, it was all digital.
"Through this passage, you'll reach the inmates' quarters. Standard doubles, corridor style. As you walk the halls, inmates might stick hands through the bars—don't freak out. They've got anti-mana chips jammed in their danjeons. No magic use."
As Gejin spoke, a guard unlocked the first lock.
Second lock.
Third lock.
Finally, the door swung open.
————Wooooooooo.
In that instant, a tidal wave of jeers crashed over us. Toilet paper, scraps of newsprint, and debris rained down from between the bars.
The inmates' own brand of welcome, shaking the ceilings and floors of Recordak to the core.