The Punishment Hall (9)
The Punishment Hall (9)
"...Even the booze tastes like shit."
This place was sickening. Rupes set down his glass. The office was quiet, sunk in an endless gloom.
He had sent out even the guards who assisted with his work. The room was so cramped that he couldn't have a moment to himself otherwise.
「This is the last time I'm letting it slide. Rupes.」
Veronica's words lingered in his ears. That bitch. She guarded the place like she was afraid he'd rape the female prisoners—always so damn difficult.
Tantalos was a boring city. Even going outside, there was little hope of finding proper entertainment. The only things gathered here were shabby gambling dens and whores who weren't even pretty.
Warden Rupes poured himself another glass of vodka. The fully melted ice clinked faintly against the glass.
He had come here for the greater cause. But adapting to the environment was another matter entirely.
Women. Gambling. Drugs. Luxury.
The world was full of pleasures. If he wanted to get laid, he could just lay hands on the female prisoners... but he could never be satisfied.
The ones who were actually decent-looking never put out, either.
If he had to pick the one he most wanted to fuck, it would have to be that one. Rupes sipped his vodka.
Setting aside the monster who didn't even seem human, the lunatic bomb that could go off at any moment, and the mute bitch who might leave him half-crippled if he touched her...
Warden Monica, and Veronica.
Those two were the best when it came to looks.
"...But."
Veronica was out of the question. No matter how he turned it over in his head, he couldn't create a situation where he could fuck her.
She wasn't the type to get eaten quietly. She was the type to open her mouth and bite my cock off.
Compared to her...
Monica.
That one looked delicious. Her body, ripe to bursting, and her earnest eyes made him want to torment her at any moment.
She dodged him every time he made a move, but that was exactly the appeal. What would happen if he forced himself on her?
When 'that day' came, it wouldn't be bad to use the chaos to pin her down on a bed. He had confirmed the escape route, and he had checked every detail of how the security system operated.
All he had to worry about was what he would do once he got out. Even if his superior said he would set up a position for him, how he worked it was up to him.
He would surely receive an enormous reward. As a result of handling a fine piece of work, he was certain to rise to an important post.
Above all, if he brought along one more 'gift,' wouldn't he be guaranteed an even better position?
"...Let's see."
He opened the drawer. He slipped out the letter he had secretly pocketed.
It was the one Monica had been carrying. It had been mixed in with the reports.
Letters from outside rarely arrived. That he had pocketed it just in case had turned out to be a jackpot.
His original purpose had been to verify whether it was a letter from his own superior. But surprisingly, the contents inside were completely different.
The handwriting was unfamiliar, but the name written at the end was one he had heard several times before.
"Divine Judge Dimona, huh."
The guard in charge of Cellblock 10 had changed for a month. Orders had even come down telling him not to interfere separately.
The new person in charge was Inquisitor Zahard.
He was Divine Judge Dimona's direct subordinate. He didn't know the purpose, but it was clear that this was someone who would become an enemy to his own superior.
Judging by how the letter went on at length, piling reason upon reason and asking for the recipient to take good care of him, he must be an extremely important figure.
It was a letter written by the great Divine Judge Dimona. Even though she was a woman who kept public and private matters strictly separate, if she went so far as to add clumsy charm to a letter, then that guess was certainly correct.
Rupes spun his chair around.
Good. Very good. Just as his plan was ripening, he could even take care of Divine Judge Dimona's lapdog as a bonus.
He had already finished his report. He had sent the fastest carrier pigeon to report to his superior.
That person would surely be greatly pleased. Still, should he probe a little, just in case of any possibility he didn't know about?
He might be able to obtain information he didn't know.
Rupes drained the rest of his drink.
So he had taken charge of managing Cellblock 10, had he? Perhaps he would die on his own without Rupes even needing to lift a finger.
That place was Rupes's domain. There was a reason he had deliberately taken charge of a place others avoided.
Human malice always piled up layer by layer. He had seen just how far that number could reach.
There was no change. Even if an angel of Ra descended, nothing would change.
A moment's goodwill could not cover over all that vicious malice.
. . .
"You just need to report to me separately once a day. Understood?"
"It's fine. Go do what you need to do."
"Huh? Wh-what are you going to..."
"What do you mean, what am I going to do."
Is this any place for people to live? Before anyone starts yapping about reforming or rehabilitating the kids, let's clean first.
"I'm going to tear it all up and start over."
After sending Monica out, I stretched long and slow. Let's see. Where should I start?
Every last bit of it was a mess. The outer walls were covered in mold, and rusted spots showed here and there. On top of that, the cellblock was fairly large.
It was too much to handle alone. But I had someone who was practically a moving legion.
The Black Death Witch, Maya, raised her head. She clutched my sleeve tightly.
"Maya help?"
"Of course. I'm counting on you."
"...Really?"
"If I can't trust my star employee, who can I trust?"
I rolled up my sleeves. I grinned broadly at Maya.
"Shall we start a big cleanup?!"
"Yay."
Maya's shadow stretched long. The eerie creatures I had seen before seeped out from an endless space.
Their numbers were small. They weren't as numerous as the hundreds of thousands they had reached in the original Paramer. The ones I had brought out numbered only a few thousand.
But that much was enough.
No matter how weakened they were, those were the Clock Tower Monster. They were practically the source of infinite malice, reduced to nothing but shells.
The Rotten One - Ratten rose. Wriggling, they each massed together into giants, then picked up cleaning supplies with a clatter.
I also raised my Sacred Power. I poured 'purification' onto the caked-on filth.
"Let's scrub it all clean!"
. . .
Rakkum heard sounds from beyond the disorderly iron bars. Was something happening? Wearing his straitjacket, he rose from his spot and pressed himself against the bars.
Bizarre giants were moving. A rotten smell was drawn into his nostrils. A strange odor he had never once smelled in the Punishment Office.
The bodies moved as if they had no ego, as if simply performing repetitive tasks. They wiped, and the places they passed through became sparkling clean in an instant.
"Shall I bring in a bit more water?"
The one standing at the very front was the new guard who had greeted him before. The man who had used polite speech even to him, a prisoner.
Zahard hauled enormous jars from who knew where, one after another. He poured a tremendous amount of water onto the floor, stripped away the grime, and cleaned the surroundings spotlessly.
Filth was peeled away. Mold that had been there for who knew how long was removed.
The wallpaper was replaced with new, and a subtle fragrance began to drift through the cellblock that had been filled only with a musty stench.
The Lizardfolk Rakkum stared blankly at the flames clinging to the walls. The fires that had begun to light one by one were breathing life into the prison that had been dark until now.
Scrub, scrub, scrub.
At the brisk sound of mopping, Rakkum laughed in spite of himself. What was this?
Had there ever been a guard who cleaned like this as soon as he took up his post?
Everyone had only ever feared him. They had avoided meeting his eyes. Was this one fearless, or was he a deep thinker?
Rakkum couldn't tell. But this fragrance, at least, was pleasant.
It probably wouldn't last long, but cleanliness was good. Now that he thought of it...
It had been a long time since he had cleaned his scales. And it had been a long time since he had changed out of his straitjacket, too.
"......."
People always adapted to their environment. But that didn't necessarily lead to happiness.
Treatment that wasn't even human. Treatment that wouldn't even be given to livestock—Rakkum had already given up. Warden Monica spoke to him whenever she occasionally stopped by, but in truth, he had given up on getting out.
Even so, the reason he remained here quietly was because of the compatriots who might be outside.
If one endures, ten survive. Rakkum knew that by remaining here, he reduced the danger to the Lizardfolk.
The reason he did not take up a spear despite being a hero of his tribe was because doing so could save more lives.
He could not push other Lizardfolk onto a hopeless battlefield just to save his own single life.
But even so, now that he smelled the scent of change...
Just a little.
He felt that he wanted to live just a little bit like a person.
If only he could take off his filthy straitjacket and live in a cleaner environment.
Rakkum quietly lifted his foot. As water poured fiercely from the jar, the water that surged in like a small wave seeped inside the iron bars.
The straitjacket was still on him. But if even a little water touched him, wouldn't the scales underneath get clean? Rakkum quietly dipped his foot into the water. He trembled at the long-missed sensation.
"...Water."
Yes. It was water. Water that brought back the time when he had lived hunting fish in the river.
Rakkum recalled the scenery of his homeland for the first time in a long while. Amid the familiar smell of water and the splashing sounds, he reminisced about the old days.
His foot slowly sank in. The water, thick with grime, flowed back out. Rakkum slowly closed his eyes.
To savor it even a little while he could...
Clank.
The iron bars opened. Rakkum flinched.
"What are you doing standing there?"
"...Young guard."
Their eyes met. It was a guard. Rakkum quietly moved his foot back.
Whenever he made a sudden movement, the guards always reached for their batons first. It had only been a ticklish level of force, but his scales, softened by the long imprisonment, sometimes peeled off.
That had been a very painful experience. This guard might be the same. He had acted eccentrically from the moment he arrived, but at his core, he was still someone who managed prisoners.
Rakkum lowered his head. A head once lowered could always be lowered further.
"Sorry. My feet were dirty, so I washed them a little."
"Why is that a problem?"
"...I'm sorry for the sudden movement. I'll face the wall again."
"No, why?"
Zahard tilted his head.
"Stop saying weird things and just turn around."
"......"
Rakkum let out a sigh. He knelt and stared blankly at the wall.
So it was happening again. Beatings and corporal punishment. It couldn't be helped. He would endure it silently this time too.
Rakkum closed his eyes. He braced for the pain that would soon come. His rotting scales would surely ache, but there was no other way but to bear it.
All he could do was hope this moment would end as quickly as possi—
Clack.
"...Hm?"
His hands were freed. With the straitjacket cut loose, Rakkum rolled his stiff joints with a crackle.
It had been so long. His bound arms were moving properly again. Rakkum turned around in a daze.
Just how young was this person? Was it because he was a rookie that he didn't know how dangerous I was?
He was releasing me, the strongest warrior of my tribe?
"Young guard."
"Stop staring blankly and take this."
Something was tossed to him with a clatter. A mop that was small for him to use. Rakkum fumbled with the mop, stammering.
"Why this..."
"You want to take a bath, right? But hold on just a little. I'll finish all this first and then help you. You'll feel much fresher if you clean your room first and then bathe. Right?"
"What do you...?"
"Or were you planning to keep living here? Come on. You'd be better off dead. You have to live somewhere clean to be called a person."
A person.
It had been far too long since he had heard that word from someone else's mouth. So long that he couldn't even remember.
Rakkum blinked. With the mop in his hands, he quietly began to rub the floor.
"...Aren't you afraid of me? I could escape outside. Young guard. Have you forgotten the danger?"
"Danger, my ass. I'm the most dangerous one here, you know?"
Zahard rubbed the floor just as he did.
"We have to clean thoroughly, so I'll leave the ceiling to you. I can't reach it."
"...Pfft."
Rakkum's shoulders shook. What a foolish thing to say.
But that was exactly why he liked it. Rakkum nodded.
"Be careful not to let your head touch the moldy water. Young guard."
"Want me to help you bathe when we're done?"
"...Sure."
Rakkum moved his body slowly. It was getting clean. The room that had been filthy all along.
It was a strange feeling.
He hadn't expected to have this kind of experience again.
"I'm counting on you. Young guard."