Chapter 57
Chapter 57
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 57
Chapter Title: Prison Renovations (2)
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The frigid outskirts.
A prison steeped in utter despair, offering no shred of hope.
In the past, only rotten trees had surrounded the drab building.
But now, for the first time, pink cherry blossom petals danced in the air there.
Overflowing with life, they heralded the arrival of spring.
Of course, it was an artificial scene conjured by magic.
Yet the process hardly mattered.
Just as plants thrive with praise, these cherry blossoms bloomed infused with someone's heartfelt wish.
A desire for those scarred and hopeless souls in the world to find healing.
Nurtured by such abundant sentiment, they were plenty beautiful.
"What a sight."
The Grand Elder, who had navigated the rotten world of political intrigue rife with schemes.
"Wow......"
"I never knew flowers like these existed outside the Holy See."
Fred and Nix, who had spent their lives in dark underground facilities undergoing brainwashing education.
"Never thought you'd be having a flower-viewing party like this."
Even the prison's vice warden, who had lived a gloomy daily life after being ousted from the imperial court.
Everyone took notice of the splendidly blooming cherry blossoms.
But one person alone paid them no heed whatsoever.
Anje Renault.
The white-haired saintess huddled beneath her bed, silently chewing on her solitude.
"Anje."
She maintained her silence even as the iron door creaked open.
Only when I stepped inside did she finally lift her head.
"You can come out now. As warden, I'll grant you walking privileges."
"Not interested."
With her eyes closed, her silvery eyelids stood out prominently.
That beautiful face was as holy as an elf from a novel.
"Still, why not take a peek just once? The prison's landscape has changed a lot with spring's arrival."
People change with their environment.
To erode her dark thoughts, she needed frequent exposure to fine scenery, so I kept gently persuading her.
"I don't like stuff like that. Better to nap during that time."
"Yet here you are, sitting under the bed."
"The sheets are just uncomfortable."
Anje brushed it off casually.
In truth, she lacked the mental leeway for leisurely strolls.
Lately, the warden had grown awfully close to the princess, which filled her with unease.
If he ended up fully absorbed into the imperial family...
The prophet destined to topple the empire would instead be swallowed whole.
It would shatter her pride as a saintess completely.
'He might already be tainted by the imperial court.'
"Don't worry about it. You're busy too, right?"
She responded coldly, and the sound of the warden's footsteps gradually receded.
He used to ask if anything bothered her, even once, but now even that was gone.
Having forged ties with the imperial family, he probably had no interest left in a prisoner like her.
She let out a sigh as the iron door clanged shut.
"......"
This damned world was the real problem.
She wanted to unleash a colossal beast on the imperial palace with a mere gesture right now.
Her power was insufficient to destroy the entire empire just yet.
But once she reached a new realm soon, it wouldn't be impossible.
Yes, time to get out of this prison.
And gather those who harbored grudges against the empire...
Kiiiek―――.
Anje, sinking into a crimson, viscous abyss like a sea of blood.
She raised her face at the sound of the iron door opening again.
That instant.
"Mind stepping aside for a sec?"
The silver-haired man returning with a toolbox entered her view.
"What."
"What do you mean, what. You said the bed was uncomfortable, so I'm fixing it."
I easily lifted the white-haired saintess.
Anje was hoisted up in an instant, without even a chance to resist.
Befuddled by how the prophet's strength had grown so much.
"Alright, let's take a look."
"A noble-born like you knows carpentry too?"
"If it's for the prisoners' convenience, I have to learn."
"......"
I rolled up my sleeves and set to work repairing the bed.
"I bought a reinforced toolset anyway, planning to fix up the prison bit by bit."
She had thought he'd soul-ascend and leave the prison behind for good.
Yet here he was, thinking only of this place.
"One leg's broken here. That's why it's creaking."
Intrigued by that single remark, Anje clasped her hands behind her back.
She sidled up quietly and intently watched the warden's repair work.
"Novels are written with imagination, right? A good night's sleep will spark better ideas."
I fixed the bed leg with deft, practiced hands.
Then I flopped onto the mattress, stretching out my arms.
"Hmm... Feels a bit off-level."
I rolled a full turn on the spacious bed.
Sure enough, one side dipped; I sat up right away and patched the sag.
"......"
Anje blinked her red eyes at the sight of his devoted back, pouring care even into a single prisoner's bed.
"Wanna try sitting again?"
Anje approached with hesitant steps.
She sat beside me and gave a light shake.
"Eh, not bad."
"Don't hold back—move around more vigorously."
I chuckled and sprawled out on the bed.
Then I tapped her arm like piano keys, inviting her along.
"Like this, lying down."
The saintess's silky, snow-white locks spilled across the sheets.
A faint lily scent wafted up.
"How's that?"
I gazed blankly at the same ceiling as Anje.
Then rolled onto my side, asking again.
"Comfy, right? Feels just like being at my own home."
"Home......"
Anje quietly watched my face as we lay side by side.
Green eyes peeking through silvery strands, framed by dark circles.
Clearly, he looked decadent and weary at a glance...
But the odd comfort of lying together made her concede in the end.
"Yeah. It's got this 'our little home' vibe."
Anje unconsciously reached out a hand.
But by then, I'd already gotten up and was surveying the cell.
"Next up, shall we fix some other spots? Gotta make good use of these pricey tools I splurged on."
I headed straight for the desk.
Leaving the saintess staring from the bed.
"You haven't even heard what's still broken."
"It's fine. I checked everything out before and memorized it."
Chairs matter when writing novels.
An uncomfortable seat sends even the best ideas flying, replaced by back pain.
"I'll start with the chair. Gotta sit right for smooth writing, yeah?"
Could he remember those times she tapped her own back while writing?
She'd thought his interest in her had plummeted.
But he hadn't said anything—he'd kept it all in mind.
Anje stroked her hair, dispelling her needless misunderstanding.
"Oh yeah, the lamp's burned out too. I'll swap it for a new one good for nighttime."
I clamped a nail between my lips and hefted the long hammer.
With my enhanced strength, I drove it effortlessly into the brick gap.
I adjusted the height to perfectly suit Anje's stature.
Even knowing her height—that thoughtfulness made her toss out a casual jab.
"You're pretty good at housework."
"Huh? What'd you say?"
Anje glanced at his rolled-up sleeve and shook her head.
"Nothing. Keep going."
"Almost done. If anything else bugs you, suggest it at the warden's office."
I dusted off my hands, finishing the repairs.
I flung the cell door wide open for ventilation.
"Change your mind, come on down anytime. Lunch is under the cherry blossoms today."
"I'll decide for myself."
Anje's grumpy reply.
From experience, that level meant her mood had eased up considerably.
Thanks to that, I left the cell without lingering.
"......"
Anje waited until my footsteps fully faded.
Only when the corridor fell utterly silent.
She stealthily inspected the bed.
More precisely, the traces of someone who had lain beside her.
A strand of short silver hair clung to her pillow.
The saintess naturally buried her face in it.
"Haa......"
She surrendered her body to the comforting, homey scent.
Eyes closed, she set aside her heart brimming with malice.
"Maybe there's a better way than smashing the imperial palace."
Anje inhaled deeply, face pressed to the pillow.
As she exhaled, she focused her mana.
She lightly traced her fingers, conducting an orchestra.
Soon, her slaves scattered across the north began to stir.
"Might as well take out the Northern Grand Duke and claim this region."
The plan to manipulate the grand duke into declaring the northern territories an independent duchy.
Turn that new nation into a utopia for the prophet and herself.
"The grand duke has no heirs anyway, so it'd be perfect if I inherited it."
Anje's crimson crescent eyes gleamed.
With another kingdom's title, she couldn't become the princess's husband.
"Camillia, things won't go your way."
After issuing commands to her slaves.
The white-haired saintess rose from the bed as if nothing had happened.
A silver strand stuck to her cheek.
Anje peeled it off and gently tucked it into a desk drawer.
Then she strolled leisurely out of the cell.
Toward the picnic under the cherry blossoms.
By then, everyone had gathered, munching on Clea Rockhart's toast.
Fred, Nix, Damas, and the other guards too.
But Anje's eyes locked on just one man—leaning against a tree, waiting for her.
"There you are. Yours has special apple jam."
His welcoming wave, as if he'd known she'd come.
The saintess approached with a pure, innocent smile, oblivious to all.
"Yeah, from now on, I'll make sure you just handle the housework nice and easy."
She murmured in the tiniest voice.
"I'll take care of the messy stuff."
***
Meanwhile, in the radiant imperial capital.
A discussion raged in the crown prince's palace, centered on the Minster Group.
"Warden Derek's finally shown his weakness after getting greedy."
Empire's First Prince Ivan Andalusia.
The man dubbed the Silver Wolf flashed sharp eyes.
"Indeed, Your Highness. He's even hired his own ex-convict brothers as staff."
The Audit Office director raised his hand in the meeting.
A monstrously muscular, intimidating man in his forties.
"Give the order, and we'll commence the audit at once."
"Do so. But you head to Berryhill Prison, not the Minster Group headquarters."
The head of the Imperial Audit Office, Page Ruton.
He questioned in bewilderment why target a remote prison.
"The prison? That hardly seems rife with corruption to investigate."
The prince curved his lips in a faint smile.
Leading with gentle inclusivity, he explained kindly.
"I know. The mafia headquarters would have far more dirt. But Berryhill houses the group's leader, Derek Minster."
Ivan stood and pointed to the continental map.
"Hit his workplace hard, and it'll throw a wrench in their upcoming tournament prep."
"Ah, right—if they get disqualified, the warden position gets revoked."
"Exactly. We'll shove the Minster Group's ledgers of corruption in at that perfect moment. Pile misfortune on misfortune, and they'll crack."
"Then absorb the broken man into Your Highness's faction."
The prince replied with a bright smile.
"Yes. I'll make him my advisor and work him for life."
The audit director bowed, accepting the order.
As the prince's close aide, he enjoyed plentiful perks.
"Understood. We'll send the bulk to strike the mafia HQ, while I take a small elite team to audit Berryhill Prison."
The Tax Agency focused on ledgers, but the Audit Office was different.
It pierced through public institutions' corruption and graft.
If the Tax Agency was a Doberman, this was a bulldog that bit indiscriminately.
"I can count on you. The man who smashed that mysterious Purple Magic Tower."
The hulking figure who demolished the alchemy-researching Purple Magic Tower.
A former academy professor who shoulder-charged through its ten-layered barriers.
"I won't fail your expectations."
Page rose his massive frame and left the meeting room.
He mounted a horse in his red uniform.
Exuding mana so immense even the horse strained.
Heading to the remote prison at the north's edge.
Page charged like a rhinoceros, snorting heavily.
Soon, red-uniformed auditors galloped fiercely behind him.
The public called them the Red Horse Unit.
For he always drew blood somehow, staining his uniform crimson.
No fortress was impregnable; he always found a flaw and shattered it.
An old prison like that? Piece of cake.
Licking his chops at the thought of stripping the princess's first confidant bare.