My Prison Diary - 1
Prison was surprisingly livable. Saying that out loud made me feel like some criminal who'd already given up on everything, which was an odd sensation—but it really was livable.
Mention an underground dungeon and the mind naturally conjures cold, damp imagery. Yet the place where I was to spend five days looked, iron bars in place of a door aside, like an ordinary, perfectly decent room. The furniture was good enough that you could tell it had been newly replaced.
So long as I didn't acknowledge that it was a prison, it was fine. Yes. So long as I didn't acknowledge it.
"Number 2781. Outside food for you."
Unfortunately, the someone standing right in front of me made that impossible. Even if I tried not to notice, there was simply no looking away.
"You're here again, Minister?"
"My precious subordinate is sitting in a cold cell, isn't he? I can't even enjoy a good meal by myself."
Bullshit. I could picture him perfectly, using the sight of me locked up as a drinking snack while he drained a whole bottle.
In fact, the Minister shoved a box at me with a brighter face than I'd ever seen on him. Damn it—how long had I even been in here, and he was already bringing outside food?
I wanted to yell at him to get that hideous thing out of my face, but raising a ruckus in prison would only get my detention extended for contempt. Five days was already enough to make me cry; I couldn't afford any more.
He knows all of this.
And what I knew, the Minister knew too. That was exactly why he was visiting with such enthusiasm.
"Moved?"
At that, I bit my lip.
"Are you moved, Minister?"
Clearly, the old me had been completely, thoroughly out of his mind. He'd gone around doing things like that knowing the present me would have to clean up the mess.
Right. Looking back on it now, bringing outside food on the very first day had been crossing a line. I should have held off and brought it on the last day, at a reasonable pace.
"Y-you're all... mad..."
Maybe it was because this was a world where gods actually existed. The settling of karmic accounts was far too thorough.
Not once since becoming Minister had I felt this satisfied. I was confident I could go to work without a single complaint for the next five years.
So this is what it felt like.
Watching the convict grind his teeth right in front of me, a deep sense of fulfillment welled up from somewhere inside my chest.
The obstacle of the iron bars. The inferior status of a prisoner. A situation where I could mock him one-sidedly. It was an emotion I had never felt before.
Now I understood why, when I'd been locked up myself, this bastard had come running with even a disciplinary report in hand.
I used to wonder what the hell he was thinking.
When I heard he'd written a disciplinary report just to mock me, I'd thought he was genuinely insane. Maybe taking on heavy responsibility at such a young age had cracked his head.
But this guy had been right. If you could enjoy a situation like this, a disciplinary report was a small price to pay. He'd even gone through with it after careful deliberation while under probation—so what was one little report?
"Just take it. You won't be able to eat food like this for a while."
I pushed the box I was holding through the gap. If it had been any larger, it wouldn't have fit—but as someone who had once been on that side of the bars, I didn't make mistakes like that.
"Come on, it's only five days!"
"Not 'only.' A full five days."
Karl took the box that came through the gap and shouted with pure outrage, but I dismissed it lightly.
What did it matter that he would be out in five days? What mattered was this very moment—that he was locked up and couldn't set foot in society.
"The weather's gotten chilly, so take care of yourself. Catching a cold in prison would be rather pathetic, wouldn't it?"
I offered the advice with a measure of sincerity, but the ungrateful fool only trembled from head to toe.
That was fine. I'd packed as much mockery into it as sincerity, so his reaction was exactly what I'd wanted.
"I'll be going, then. Take care of yourself, Number 2781."
I turned away, deliberately mentioning his prisoner number. Even if this was only a five-day detention for show, a prisoner in name was still a prisoner.
That number, 2781, would follow this guy forever even after he was released. I still couldn't forget 1276, the number I'd been called by for a whole week.
Has the sky always been this clear?
Stepping out of the prison and looking up, I was greeted by an impossibly clear sky.
There was no helping it. Failing to commemorate a day like this would be an affront to Enen.
Tonight, we were having a company dinner.
After the Minister visited twice, nothing happened. After the Minister visited twice, nothing happened.
I said it twice because it was important. I'd expected him on the first day, so the shock had been muted—but showing up twice with outside food had been pure agony.
I'd known I was going to get hit. I just hadn't known he'd land them back-to-back. Please, for the love of everything, respect the cooldown.
He let it slide today.
I calmed a heart that would have been howling if it had tear ducts, and lay down on the bed.
Yes. He'd let it slide today. The Minister's mental attacks were devastatingly strong, but other than him, no one had come. It was almost enough to make me wonder if refusing visitors had been a mistake.
The problem was tomorrow. A full day had passed since my detention, so the rumors would have spread—and tomorrow was the start of the weekend, when people actually had free time.
...Should I extend the no-visitor order by one more day?
For a moment, I seriously considered extending the visitation ban.
Of course, that would only spawn rumors like, "What the hell did that bastard do that he can't even take visitors?"—so it was impossible. Damn it. If I'd at least come in for a real serious crime, I could have felt wronged about it.
"Audit Department Chief."
While I was staring blankly at the ceiling, a voice called for me. What, was there another visitor already?
I hastily sat up and found a guard standing awkwardly outside the bars.
"I came to ask if there's anything making you uncomfortable."
Ah. Nothing serious, then.
I'd thought it might be another visitor—or the Minister's triple combo—but thankfully it was neither. I really didn't want to see anyone else today...
"I'm fine. Don't worry about it."
I waved the guard off. The room wasn't uncomfortable, and though it was irritating, the Minister had brought outside food, so I wasn't lacking anything.
I was only here for five days. Whining that I didn't like this or needed that fixed would just look pathetic. Being stuck here wasn't something to be proud of—there was no reason to act so entitled in a prison.
The guard bowed several times at my response, left a word that I should speak up anytime if anything was wrong, and departed.
Sensory confusion.
It was a mad thought, but for a moment I even wondered that. The way the guard treated me so warmly, I couldn't tell whether I was in a prison or some kind of lodging.
But what could you do? From the guard's perspective, treating me like a real prisoner must have been difficult.
I would have done the same.
If I'd been stripped of the Audit Department Chief post, or if the detention were measured in years, the guard would have gone strictly by the book.
But five days of confinement? Anyone could see it was a punishment for show. The moment detention ended, I'd be right back at work. How was anyone supposed to treat a person like that as a convict?
In a way, that guard was as much a victim as I was. He'd just been doing his job diligently when he suddenly got stuck managing a big shot.
Was it the same guard back when the Minister was in?
The guard who had managed both a Minister and a Department Chief. Just imagining it made for an impressively grand career achievement.
Of course, grand or petty, it didn't really mean anything. There was nothing I could do for the guard outside from in here. Quietly staying put was the best help I could offer.
And when night fell, the guard came back again, arms full of blankets.
"It gets quite cold underground. Heating is difficult, but at least with these..."
"Right. Thank you."
I nodded to the guard, who was speaking through a cold sweat. Turning him down would only put more pressure on him.
Even if I sit here quietly, my mere existence is a nuisance to you, isn't it?
I'm sorry...
I'll send you a gift when I get out.
Day two of prison life. The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was the guard, come to say good morning. Anyone watching would have thought this was a mansion, not a prison.
"It's an excessive penalty for the Audit Department Chief's mistake, but what can you do? The law makes no exceptions. Still, I've given instructions so you won't be uncomfortable while you're here."
Watching the guard bow, I recalled what the Crown Prince had said in his office. Just what the hell did you tell them, you bastard, that this guard has fully reclassed into a butler?
A pitiful victim suffering because of the Crown Prince. Thinking of it that way, pity welled up on its own. I'll definitely send you a gift.
Would transferring him to another department count as a gift?
Anyway, aside from the guard's frequent visits, nothing of note happened.
I'd occasionally heard that in prison, high-spirited inmate brothers would throw their whole souls into fistfights, fully prepared for extended sentences—but I was in a private cell, so I didn't even get the chance to watch those glorious duels.
I wasn't even sure things like that actually happened. What kind of madman would stake his own future just to enjoy the present?
Me.
Astonishingly, that madman was me. If I hadn't written disciplinary reports just to teabag the Minister, I never would have ended up detained.
So the prisoners in here and I weren't all that different. I'd learned something I would rather not have known.
"Um, Audit Department Chief?"
"I already said there's nothing wrong."
While I was in the middle of realizing my own identity, the guard approached again.
I'd told him I'd call if I actually needed something, and here he was again. Someone this courteous wouldn't be deliberately ignoring me—so it had to be the Crown Prince's doing.
What on earth did he say to make the man stick to me this zealously? Even I was starting to get scared.
"It's not that. A visitation request has come in."
"Ah."
With the feeling that what was bound to come had finally arrived, I nearly closed my eyes on pure reflex.
At least it wasn't the Minister. He had barged in declaring, "This is Ministry of Finance business!" without even asking my consent. He'd done it yesterday, so there was no law saying he wouldn't do it today.
If it wasn't the Minister...
Who is it?
There were more candidates than expected. Just the deputy chiefs and section chiefs made five, and if you included Section Chief Four, six.
Ah—maybe they'd come as a group. From their perspective, that would be more convenient too.
"It's still morning. That's fast. Who is it?"
"Well—"
At my lightly tossed question, the guard couldn't answer properly and only let his eyes dart around.
...I realized it on instinct. At the very least, it wasn't the Audit Department.
"It's Her Excellency the Demon Duke..."
Ah.
For an instant, the words "Could you tell her I'm not here?" rose all the way to my throat.
If a prisoner isn't in prison, where the hell else would he be, you lunatic.