Open Doors and Tortured Confessions
"Alright. Let's... summarize the situation first."
Peran said that after glancing down the narrow passage for a moment. It seemed she'd decided to prioritize rescuing Parm Wirson, just as Jin-cheol had suggested.
"The underground prison is on the outermost basement level. Not the absolute lowest, but the lowest among the spaces they actually use. Normally, intruders coming up from below aren't heavily guarded, so getting to the prison should be easy. If they're not interrogating anyone right now, pulling the teacher out should be straightforward too, since the temple warriors are up top. So my real concern is whether we can slip back underground after rescuing him."
Back underground. Meaning, through the tanks that had been firing plasma beams nonstop just moments ago.
Jin-cheol spoke up.
"Don't worry about that."
"...Why not?"
What to say? That Jindallae said she'd watch over us, so the tanks would just let us pass? Right then, Haeta cut in.
"I figured out their perception systems while dominating one of those Yo-sul users earlier! So if I use my Yo-sul, we can become invisible to them. As long as we don't attack them on purpose, we can slip right past quietly!"
"—that's what she said. Looks like teaming up with a sorceress like Haeta was the right call, huh?"
Peran gave Jin-cheol a strange look but nodded in agreement as he smoothly tacked on the rest.
"I see. And Udim knows the way back..."
She glanced at Udim, who nodded with his usual gloomy expression.
"...Good. Morel and I will take point. Everyone put on masks, and unless something special happens, stay back until I signal. It'll be safer that way."
She handed black masks to Jin-cheol and Udim. They were for covering faces—Peran and Morel already had theirs, as did Aiman and Haeta.
But does covering up even matter? I'm the only pink-skinned human in this city.
Whatever the doubts, they donned the masks. The two Esai warriors led the way, with the other four following their hand signals.
Peran and Morel bounded lightly into the passage. The narrow, worn path curved gently and stretched on endlessly. Lights flickered or were broken here and there along the tunnel, and the old walls showed clear signs of corrosion. It felt like a decaying underground bunker.
The two Esai took point, while Jin-cheol and Udim, Haeta and Aiman trailed a short distance behind, eyes fixed on their backs. In the dim passage, only the sound of their footsteps echoed.
Suddenly, the leaders halted. Peran held up her palm toward the rear, stopping the group. Aiman gripped his staff, Udim his rifle. But Jin-cheol tilted his head—the curve of the passage might hide the view ahead, but sounds should carry. His ears picked up nothing.
He crept forward quietly and peered where the Esai were looking. There was just an open door in their line of sight.
"Why'd we stop?"
"...It should be closed."
Instead of scolding Jin-cheol for approaching, Peran stared grimly at the door. They hadn't opened it, so if it was supposed to be shut, someone else must have.
Of course, to Jin-cheol, it was absurd. They actually opened the path? This override command really works? Jindallae, you didn't trick me, did you? Then why no answer when I called earlier?
"If it was a trap, something would've happened by now. Let's just go."
Jin-cheol strode forward. Peran and Morel hurried after, the rest following in confusion.
Beyond the open door lay stairs leading up. Jin-cheol climbed without hesitation. Peran rushed up beside him, whispering.
"Jin-cheol, it's dangerous. If we run into other warriors or Sun Practitioners here..."
"No signs of life on these stairs. Should be fine."
"..."
Peran followed with an ambiguous look. They ascended the dark, corroded stairs to another door—also open. Unlike below, crates and junk half-blocked the entrance.
Jin-cheol pressed against the wall, peeked in, then turned to Peran.
"Looks like an old storage room."
"...Things get really dangerous from here. Wait for my signal."
Jin-cheol shrugged, and Peran and Morel advanced. They crouched low, swiftly clearing the debris, then slipped inside.
The storage room door was open too. They checked outside, then beckoned the group.
Inside were all sorts of junk: mops that looked like cleaning tools, iron shackles, rusted blades and awls crusted with dried black blood.
Udim whispered softly.
"Teacher's clothes."
Jin-cheol's eyes snapped over. In the corner, crumpled like trash, were clothes—and among the rags, a sleek black coat that didn't belong. Udim was right; it was Parm's neat suit jacket, intact without a tear.
"...Let's hurry."
The group—minus Udim—glanced at Jin-cheol. His eyes had turned ice-cold.
Peran and Morel exited silently first. They crept down the hall, checked the corner ahead, and signaled.
The group followed. This level was worn with flickering lights too, though better than below. Scratches from scraping corrosion off walls, heavy air—same old.
After a couple more turns, Peran and Morel stopped. The group halted. The Esai peered around the corner gravely.
Jin-cheol sidled up for a look. Another open door ahead.
They really left them all open.
"Another open door?"
"...That's the prison. But this is too weird. Why are all the doors open? It's obviously a trap."
Jin-cheol had nothing to say. He'd met the AI controlling this Sun Temple and ordered it to open the path to the prison or die. So they were open—no need to worry?
They'd either think he was crazy or draw swords over blasphemy. Lucky if not.
Aiman cut in.
"Trap or not, does it matter? That's the temple's underground prison, right?"
"...If it's a trap, the people we're looking for might not be there."
Aiman's eyes turned to Jin-cheol.
"Your ears seem sharp. I hear five presences beyond that door. You?"
"Five different breaths too."
He grinned at Jin-cheol's reply.
"Three Sandesiya prisoners. Parm Wirson and the scholar's servant caught with him. That's five, right?"
"Well... those are the only five currently in the cells, but..."
Peran couldn't hide her bewilderment as Aiman raised his staff casually.
"Trap or whatever. If so, we flip this temple upside down. Sorry to you two."
"..."
The Antela warriors' eyes, visible above their masks, flickered uncertainly.
Then Udim moved first. He strode boldly toward the open prison door. Jin-cheol chuckled at his back and followed, Aiman close behind.
As they went, Haeta grinned and winked at the Esai before stepping forward.
"...Let's go too, sis."
"This is nuts. Not the plan..."
In the end, they all followed. They marched brazenly into the Sun Temple's underground prison.
"..."
The prison wasn't large. A straight corridor stretched ahead, flanked by small-barred iron doors. At the entrance: a small table and chair, scattered picture cards on top—no guard.
Jin-cheol hurried to the door with presences and peered in. A figure sat shrouded in darkness. Sensing him, it looked up.
"Who's there?"
"...Teacher?"
The man shot up and approached the bars, face illuminated. Sleek dark skin, moist eyes, mask over his lower face.
Parm Wirson.
"Jin-cheol? Is that you? How are you here?"
"Came to get you out. You okay?"
"I'm fine—worry about Udim. His wounds must be bad. I let him escape when the temple warriors grabbed us, but the blood loss then..."
Udim dismissed it by wedging his buzzcut head between Jin-cheol and the bars.
"Udim!"
"I'm good, teacher. Jin-cheol saved me."
"Jin-cheol? How? Ah, the emergency medkit! Good thinking!"
"You okay, teacher?"
Parm chuckled heartily.
"Thanks for worrying, Udim. I'm fine—just locked up here. The one to worry about is across the hall."
He looked perfectly fine. Shirt a bit dirtier, face tired, but no beatings.
Still, Jin-cheol touched the bars. Fine was fine, but he'd come to free him.
"..."
Jin-cheol felt uneasy. The door was silent.
Jindallae, you only opened the path here and not the cells? No sense at all.
"I'll open it."
Haeta stepped up, raising her hand. Her forehead circlet glowed—beep, clank—the door swung open.
Parm emerged ramrod straight, scanning the group. Spotting Peran and Morel despite masks, he bowed politely.
"Coming here couldn't have been easy. Thank you."
"A life for a life."
"Your lives are mine, so same here."
Peran and Morel returned the bows respectfully. But Parm tilted his head at Aiman and Haeta.
"Strangers...?"
"Don't mind us. Just fellow travelers on the same path."
Aiman waved it off and strode to another door. The Sandesiya pirates—his and Haeta's targets.
Parm grabbed Haeta.
"You opened the door?"
"Huh? Oh, yes."
"Sorry, one more?"
He pointed across from his cell. Haeta closed her eyes, waved—door unlocked.
"Thank you."
"No problem."
Parm took his coat from Jin-cheol, donned it, and headed over. Jin-cheol followed.
"Teacher, we need to get out fast."
"I know. But I have to talk to this man. Leaving now means never knowing the truth."
"Who..."
Jin-cheol trailed off, realization dawning, and followed silently.
Five prisoners: three Sandesiya pirates, Parm—one left, the scholar's servant from the scene.
They halted at the threshold.
"...Holy shit."
"Such cruelty..."
The scene was brutal. A large torture rack dripped dark blood slowly. Bound atop it, a blood-soaked Esai. Legs severed, arms flayed to bone in the frame. Naked torso riddled with burn-like wounds oozing pus.
Sensing them, he jerked his head up. Jin-cheol and Parm grimaced—his eyes were gouged out.
He rasped—tongue intact, voice gravelly.
"I... I told you everything... please, stop now..."
Parm started to speak, but Jin-cheol raised a hand. As Parm looked puzzled, Jin-cheol lowered his voice harshly.
"We're verifying your statement. Recite it all from the start. You know what happens if there's a mistake."
Terror shook the bloody Esai. Parm frowned slightly but didn't intervene—Jin-cheol's ploy worked.
The Esai rushed as Jin-cheol stepped closer.
"I'll talk! Again! Please..."
"Slowly. Leave nothing out."
Head bowed blindly, he rasped on.
"...On the 18th of Summer Moon, I killed Bildo Bell in his mansion. The Assembly ordered it—Bildo Bell was defying us, slipping control, and we planned to take out Parm Wirson too, the Baika digging dangerous ancient knowledge..."
Parm's eyes narrowed, sharp glint flashing.
"...Plan was simple, sure. Kasian screams extreme Sun supremacy, hates other races—knew he'd never let a captured Baika live. Worked twice before successfully. Parm would've taken the murder rap, executed—traitor and threat gone..."
His unseen gaze dropped lower.
"Problem... I didn't escape this time. Thought warriors targeted only Parm and his Olrog servant—panicked when they said come to temple, tried to flee, got caught..."
What the fuck. So no need to bust the teacher out? The temple zealots already know everything?
Jin-cheol barely stifled a laugh. The bloody Esai continued regardless.
"...N-now, the 'real statement' you taught me. I tried fleeing because... uh, Parm Wirson and I were accomplices, grudge against Siol North, old grudge, killed him for that... after, uh, temple warriors, Sun Doctrine Practitioners burst in..."
What bullshit is this?
Jin-cheol gaped, but the Esai stumbled through the clumsy script, shrinking unlike his truthful flow earlier. Obvious torture-memorized crap.
Parm, ignoring the frame-job, tapped Jin-cheol and wrote on his palm. Jin-cheol nodded and spoke.
"Stop."
"...N-no! I got it! Warriors! Planned to attack Siol warriors! Feared their faith! As heretics, their Sun Doctrine scared us! So—!"
"Enough. Something else."
"Wh-what...?"
"Explain this 'Assembly' you mentioned."
The Esai drooped again, dazed.
"The Muksaang House... intellectuals sworn to protect world and civilization from ancient evil, dangerous knowledge. Forgotten Empire stuff—beyond useful, things that corrupt people... threaten civilization. Wrong hands or spread freely, we'd collapse like them. So..."
What the fuck are these assholes?
Jin-cheol's spinning head now ached dully. Psycho AI was bad enough—now secret society? Might not be so secret if spilling like this, but still shitheads. Tried to frame-murder Parm.
A voice from behind.
"Muksaang House? That Esai's talking about the Muksaang House?"
Aiman, with Haeta and the three Sandesiya pirates behind. His face was odd—bewildered, baffled, like a dog cocking its head in confusion.