Chapter 617: Inside the Prison
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 617: Inside the Prison
"Get in."
With a heavy clang, the cold iron door swung open. Muen was shoved forward by a knight, stumbling into the chilling depths of the prison.
Darkness and the stench of blood rushed to meet him. A draft, cold as a wind from the underworld, brushed against his face. From the depths, he could hear the faint, ghostly echoes of screams, and from the nearby corners, he felt the weight of numb, predatory gazes.
His body began to feel heavy. Some kind of restriction seemed to permeate the air here; his Fighting Spirit felt as though it had hardened into iron, impossible to circulate. This method of suppression was far cruder than the Palace Forbidden Spell—it felt like wet cement being forcibly pumped into his veins, causing a dull, throbbing ache in his meridians.
Muen’s movements remained steady, however. Since this was his first time in a dungeon, he looked around with a sense of morbid curiosity.
Everything matched his expectations of a sinister cell, yet it was far more harrowing than he had imagined. The chains were thicker than his wrists, creaking and groaning as they were dragged across the floor. The person attached to those chains, looking as if they might snap at any moment... was merely a withered woman.
Her matted hair swayed slightly as she lifted her head. She seemed to stare at him, muttering something unintelligible and deeply unsettling under her breath.
"Don't look at her. She’s a lunatic who used to harvest organs in Belland. She’s long since lost her mind," the knight warned.
He led Muen deeper into the facility.
Here, the scent of blood was even more cloying. The prisoners weren't as half-dead as the ones at the entrance; instead, each one watched him with the eyes of a starving wolf.
"Stay here for now," the knight said expressionlessly, pushing Muen into the innermost cell. "Don't even think about escaping. There are jailers patrolling twenty-four hours a day."
"Don't worry," Muen said, shrugging with a smile. "I’ve always been a law-abiding citizen. I wouldn't dream of breaking the rules."
"Good."
The knight nodded slightly. Then, leaning in close to Muen’s ear, he whispered in a voice meant only for the two of them, "If you have any requests, just call for a jailer."
"Hmm?"
Muen blinked, not quite catching the knight’s drift at first.
Before he could ask for clarification, the knight had already turned and left. The iron door slammed shut with a final, echoing clang.
"If I have any requests, call a jailer?" Muen looked down at the cold shackles on his wrists and muttered to himself, "Is that something a prisoner is allowed to think about?"
He let out a soft sigh.
Regardless of what he should or shouldn't be thinking, his status had officially plummeted from the noble son of a Duke to a pathetic prisoner. To fall from the heavens to the earth in the blink of an eye... ah, how tragic—
"Yo, a newcomer. I thought it’d be some big shot, but what do we have here? A soft-skinned little pretty boy?"
Suddenly, a burly man with a ferocious expression stepped out from the shadows of the neighboring cell. He stood behind the iron bars, eyeing Muen with a sneer.
"Looking at you, you must be some noble brat. To end up in the Black Prison... tell me, what crime did you commit? Let yours truly hear it."
"Crime? I haven't committed any crimes," Muen said, sounding displeased.
"Ha! Everyone who comes here says that. Even that whispering hag back there—she still thinks she was performing exorcisms when she cut those people open. Though, I hear the people she 'exorcised' died in some pretty nasty ways!"
"I really haven't committed a crime. I’ve been law-abiding, kind, and pure since I was a child. I even help old ladies cross the street every day. How could I possibly be a criminal?" Muen shook his head. "Someone just filed a false accusation against me."
"A false accusation?" The burly man paused, his expression shifting into one of unmasked pity. "Political persecution? So you really are a noble?"
"Well, you could put it that way."
"Hah! Sounds like the charges they pinned on you aren't light!" The man laughed. "In that case... haha, you're finished!"
"Finished? Why?"
"Do you know where you are?"
"A prison cell?"
"This is the Black Prison!" The man pointed around them. "The Black Prison, also known as the Land of the Dead! Only the most heinous villains are thrown in here—people with crimes so great that ten heads wouldn't be enough to pay for them! There is absolutely no way out of here alive. And if a victim of political persecution like you was sent here, it means..."
The man licked his lips, his eyes gleaming. "It means you’ve been completely abandoned, kid. You’re going to spend the rest of your life in this hole!"
"Is that so?"
Muen was shocked.
He was shocked that he had somehow become a "heinous villain" without even being interrogated, and he was equally shocked that this burly prisoner possessed such insight.
"If I may ask... what crime were you sent here for?"
"Nothing much." The man pointed a thumb at himself, looking proud. "I only killed a measly twenty-three people!"
"Hiss... twenty-three!" Muen gasped. "How terrifying!"
"And for the record, three of them were pampered noble brats just like you!"
"Scary, truly scary!" Muen looked genuinely frightened. "If someone as terrifying as you is stuck here, is there really no way out?"
"Of course not!" the man replied. "Not only are there restrictions suppressing your cultivation and doors made of reinforced steel, but the jailers here are cold-blooded monsters. They say they’re all veterans who’ve killed hundreds on the battlefield. They’re experts at torture and execution!"
The man pulled up his shirt to show Muen the jagged, centipede-like scars covering his torso. His voice turned somber. "The moment you even think about escaping, they’ll subject you to brutal interrogation! There isn't a single patch of healthy skin left on me! Their methods are like slicing the meat off your bones inch by inch. They’ll make you wish you were dead!"
"That’s horrifying!" Muen gasped again.
That level of carnage was barely a tenth of the flesh-warping horrors he’d seen from evil cultists. For a normal murderer, however, it was admittedly a severe punishment.
"Heh heh, so..." Seeing Muen’s frightened expression, the man’s face twisted back into a menacing sneer. "From now on, you’d better be a good little boy and—"
"Ah, wait a second."
Muen suddenly interrupted him and waved toward a jailer standing not far away.
"Excuse me... could you find me a chair? There’s nowhere to sit in here."
The jailer came trotting over. He poked his head into the cell, saw the filthy straw scattered on the floor—no different from any other cell—and immediately lowered his head in apology.
"I am terribly sorry! We completely overlooked that..."
"It's fine. Just be quick about it."
"Yes, sir!"
The jailer hurried off. Moments later, several jailers—each looking more ferocious and intimidating than the last—marched in... carrying a magnificent, plush sofa.
They unlocked the door, scrubbed the cell until it was spotless, and grunted as they hauled the large sofa inside, positioning it exactly where Muen wanted it.
"Oh, right. Could you get me something to eat? I'm a bit hungry."
"Right away!"
A short while later...
"Our apologies, but due to the limited conditions, the selection is a bit sparse. We have Champuli steak paired with a cod and scallop soup, served with a side of matsutake caviar... Would you care for some red wine?"
"I'll pass on the wine. I am in prison, after all; it wouldn't be proper to drink."
"Then we shall take our leave. If you have any further requests, please do not hesitate to call. We have staff on standby at all times."
"Thanks for the hard work."
"It is our honor to serve you."
After a dizzying display of efficiency, the highly trained jailers retreated silently to the outer hall, leaving the depths of the prison even quieter than before.
Muen sat on the soft sofa, expertly cutting his steak with a knife and fork. He tilted his head toward the burly man.
"So, what were you saying just now?"
"..."
Cold sweat began to bead on the man’s forehead. He had never blinked while killing a man, but now, facing this smiling youth, his legs began to tremble.
Damn it... to treat the Black Prison like his own home... who the hell is this guy? Is he the Empress's secret lover?
"I... I didn't say anything. Heh... nothing at all."
"Is that so?" Muen beckoned him over with a finger. "Come here for a second."
"I—"
The man was about to refuse, but before he could react, a powerful hand seized him by the throat. Even though both of them had their Fighting Spirit suppressed, the man found himself completely unable to resist.
"You killed twenty-three people, right?" Muen tilted his head, looking at him. "It’s great that you’re a piece of trash. Why don't you help me test something out? Okay?"
"Urgh... ack..." The man gasped for air, utterly helpless.
*
A minute later.
Muen wiped his hands with a silk napkin, glancing out of the corner of his eye at the half-dead man slumped on the floor. He looked up; the jailers outside hadn't moved an inch, as if they had tacitly permitted his actions.
"Heh, I figured as much." Muen shook his head, amused. "They say they’re locking me up, but they’re actually taking quite good care of me. She really can't bear to see me suffer, can she? That stubborn tsundere."
It seemed he could finally relax.
Since his treatment hadn't been affected, it meant the situation was still under Celicia’s control. As for the upcoming interrogation... it would likely just be a formality.
"Still... for some reason, I have a strange feeling."
Muen frowned, a vague sense of unease gnawing at him, as if there was something he had overlooked.
But... the Evil God power within him was a secret known and even permitted by the top figures of the continent, like the Old Loli and the Pope. While making it public might hurt his reputation, a charge like "colluding with an Evil God" couldn't actually harm him.
It’s probably just my imagination.
Muen breathed a sigh of relief, pushing the fleeting premonition to the back of his mind. He settled back into the soft sofa, peacefully enjoying his peculiar prison meal.
Meanwhile, in the outer hall of the prison, unbeknownst to him...
The jailers who had just been serving him were now standing in a tense standoff, weapons drawn.
"The Silence Bureau? This isn't a place for you to interfere."
"Heh. We are merely here on orders to check in."
"Tsk. Why is the Life Church getting involved in secular affairs?"
"It’s nothing. Young Master Muen’s compensation was simply a bit too generous; the Archbishop sent me to repay a small portion of it. As for you... this is your territory, yet you use such dishonorable methods. It truly surprises us."
"That is none of your concern!"
The groups glared at each other, sparks practically flying as killing intent filled the air.
And in a dark corner nearby, several men who had been stripped naked and tied together whimpered in terror, shivering as they watched the invisible conflict unfold.