Ack!

I quickly turn and flick my wrist, feeling a tingly sensation on my skin much like a slight static shock. The coldness of the metallic handcuff slowly dissipates. I realise the handcuffs have disappeared and I look at my hands, puzzled.

Since you’re supposed to unlock the handcuffs when you’re detained, I guess this is their own method? A self-destructing method?

I begin pacing about my bedroom-sized cell.

The cell is cold, which means that this is probably a place that does not have heating—though I can’t say for sure that they invented heating already. Since this place is supposedly magical, I guess they probably have some sort of magical heating tool during the cold?

This cell is within a holding room that only has a small table and chair near the entrance, which is most likely a place where the guard will sit. The table is empty except for an unlit lamp. The only illumination in this cell is from the small window near the top of the wall, outside of my cell.

Cold. Isolated. This holding room is definitely not just a holding room. Since the cell only has one bedroll and one bucket, it shows that this place is for only one person.

I examine the bedroll, my fingers running through the fur. Like the cell, it’s cold, but it’s definitely very new. Either that, or it’s untouched for a long time.

I pick up the bucket, placing it close to my face, taking a whiff of the bottom.

“Seems like this bucket is totally unused—or it has been replaced,” I mutter. “What about the wall?”

My fingers run along the wall, feeling for any wet spots or sticky areas.

Nothing.

I take off my shoes and feel the floor beneath my feet. I walk around the cell once more, feeling for any wetness or stickiness.

Same! There’s nothing!

This brings new information to me: this cell is either used rarely or cleaned regularly.

For it to be cleaned regularly, there must be a cause for use. So, this means that this cell held a lot of prisoners in the past, and probably last time as well. Yet, I don’t think this is the case: if the cell is used regularly, then that means it’s guarded frequently as well—or at least, all the time. Why isn’t there any guard? Why is the chair empty?

Shit, I wish I can touch the chair. If the seat is warm, at least I know whether it’s used or not…

No matter. I can conclude that this cell is used really rarely.

So what?

Think, Sung Jae, think! Calm down. This is all new information. Let’s think about this carefully. Rarely used cell, barely used bedroll, barely-used bucket, cold and dry holding room…

“Oi! What are you doing over there?”

I quickly turn around, looking at the red-haired, haughty-looking Melissa.

“Nothing,” I say, smiling. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m your guard—and executioner. You better prepare for your end.”

I sigh. “Do I really not have a chance to explain to you my position and convince you otherwise?”

The knight pulls the chair and sits on it. She places both of her legs on the table, then laying her sword on the wall. She leans back in the chair, back facing me.

“Nope,” comes the firm reply.

Okay. So Elgia is a horrible place.

So does this mean that these ‘guards’—well, police officers, in a modern sense—have the ability to judge their criminals? So, if this guy robbed someone, they can say that he actually committed something worse and execute him? These guards have that much power to even decide that I am to be executed, which also means that Elgia…

I have to be insane to be their ‘hero’.

Fuck! Back on topic: now that Melissa is here, I have a problem.

I need to find out where exactly I am.

“Are you not cold?” I say.

Melissa jumps a little. “Uh, yeah, it is, but you’ll be colder later on after I chop your head off.”

Tsk. Seems like she’s a terrible conversationalist with a bad sense of humour. It also seems like she wasn’t expecting any conversation there. Let’s push it a little.

“When will I be… uh… executed?” I say, trying not to let my voice tremble.

“Eh? That eager? Are you planning a breakout or something?”

No shit, but I don’t answer.

“Well,” she continues, “If I’m not wrong, it should be in six or seven hours’ time. Captain Gillard has too many things to do than to waste time on someone like you. He’s probably coming later to fetch us to the block.”

I gulp. The block? Do they want to decapitate me with like, a huge axe or something? Or is this place advanced enough to have a guillotine?

“I see…” I say. “Well, actually I wanted to ask something.”

“What is it?”

“Why is this place so damn cold?”

“Ha!” She says. She stands up and turns the chair around, then sitting down while facing me. “Do you expect a prison cell to have heating? This is the execution holding room, no less!”

“It’s funny how this ‘execution holding room’ is parked so near the mess hall,” I remark.

“It actually isn’t,” she says, “Seems like you’re not aware of the spatial manipulation.”

“Spatial…” Then, it clicked. This means that the mess hall is the main thing one will see in the barracks. Other than that, everything else would be connected using spatial manipulation—I’m guessing some sort of portal will lead to this space.

I wasn’t aware of anything like that. Does this mean I’m not perceptive to magic?

“I see… Then you’re no threat. If you don’t even know about spatial manipulation, then you’re really useless. What sort of spy are you? Whatever country it is that sent you, probably meant for you to die here. Not that I care, but that’s poor planning.”

“Are you not curious about where I’m from then? Don’t you want to torture and get more information out of me?”

“What’s the point in doing that?”

“What do you mean what’s the point?” I say, flabbergasted. “Don’t you want to know what I know? Don’t you want to use this information? I might know of something that’s really critical to Elgia…”

“If you don’t even know about Fleuris’s praying hours, then you’re probably still foreign about Elgia. Seems like you need to research about Elgia better—but well, not like you have a chance to do that again.”

“Fuck…” I mutter.

She’s not giving me any important information! It’s clear that she’s a very nationalistic moron and that Elgia is probably a very strong country… so what? Okay, so according to their whatever-name-that-is code, they just execute the spies they arrested without giving them a fair trial. This probably has severe repercussions, but seeing how they aren’t even remotely interested in where I’m actually from, they probably executed hundreds of people this way.

Silent. In secret.

“So, you never tortured a spy before? Not even one?”

“Nope. All the spies are usually killed on the spot. You’re the first one we’ve arrested this easily.”

Seems like she’s not the type to torture prisoners—and that if I’m a spy, I suck.

“So everyone else must not torture their spies as well?”

“Well… if you’re bound by the code, then you must execute your prisoner. No questions asked.”

Isn’t that weird… who in their right mind will give such good treatment? What if some country doesn’t want to do that? Who is supervising this?

Ah! What if I tell her…

I shake my head. It’s too big of a gamble. I might be wrong. She might not buy it.

Whatever! I’m a dead man if I don’t try.

“Well, what if I told you that you’re the only country that executes the spies?”

“What?”

I stop myself from smiling. The tone in that ‘what’ seems to indicate shock. I clear my throat and scoot nearer to the metal bars.

“Are you sure you’re only one doing all these… should I say, kind executions? What if I told you everyone else is busy pulling out fingernails, dripping water on their foreheads, twisting their toes off—“

“What do you mean we’re the only one!” She exclaims, getting up from the chair. She walks up to the cell, nearing the bar. I inch a few steps back. “Tell me! What do you mean we’re the only one?”

“Well, my lips are sealed tight. That’s all I can say.”

Melissa paces about, her fist clenched and brows furrowed.

“Well… I was just surprised, that’s all,” I continue, “just wanted to tell you before I die.”

“Which!” She says, grabbing the bar tightly. “Which countries? Which empires? Which kingdoms?”

“What do you mean, ‘which’? I can’t tell you, end of story. I can only say that Elgia is way too naive to even follow something like that. Think about it, who will follow such statutes and laws? Who will enforce such things? Are you supervising everything that the other countries are doing?”

I shrug and scoot back, leaning against the wall.

“Well, any of those ‘supervisors’ you’ve sent are probably left to hang dry in the desert anyway. It was fun while it lasted.”

She grabs the hilt of her sword and unsheathes it from the scabbard. She walks up to the cell door and places a foot on the lock. She stomps on it once and I quickly roll back, avoiding the door flying past me. She stomps into the cell and before I can react, I feel the cold of metal against the soft, thin skin of my neck.

“Wait, wait! Let’s calm down!” I protest, raising my hands. Shit! Did it backfire?

How much more can I say?

“Spill the beans. Where are you really from? Who are the people involved? Who are the bastards who still torture their prisoners? Which uncivilised, uneducated motherfucker did it?”

I can literally sense her anger growing as her blade sinks one millimetre deeper with each question. I try to adjust to it, inching my neck a bit further away, but her sword follows me without a moment’s hesitation.

“Okay, fine! I’ll tell you! Please put the blade away from me, I’m going to be dead anyway, but at least let me live a little longer so I can say my last prayers later on.”

“Hmph,” she puffed, removing her sword. “Now, tell me, before I decide to kill you.”

“It’s Dremlin.”

“Huh?”

“Uh…” Fuck, did I pronounce it wrong? It’s dreamt-lean but shorter, right? “It’s Dremlin! Dremlin! We still torture people there. All our prisoners die only because they are either on death row already or they were tortured to death.”

Her pupils seem to widen.

“Well... that’s really all I can say,” I mutter, letting my voice trail off. “I mean…”

“Despicable Dremlin. That Empire is still eyeing for a complete unification of Alnd under their banner! Elgia is clearly the main contender for unification. How dare they try and step up their military efforts—and go against the international code, no less!”

“Yeah…” I say, laughing sheepishly. “I’m not from Dremlin, though.”

“How did you know about this, then?”

“Well, okay, to put it simply, I am recruited by them,” I correct, “But I’m not born there. I’m born in a land from the far East.”

“The far East? You’re from Giron then?”

“Yeah,” I say, unhesitatingly, “I am a traveler from Giron… but I’m still a spy for Dremlin after loads of circumstances.”

Man, I’m on a roll here! Lie after lie, bullshit after bullshit, I’m way too deep to back out now. I have to find the exit in this hole that I dug—though this is just stupid. If only I mentioned that I was from the ‘far East’, perhaps this bitch wouldn’t have arrested me for no reason.

Melissa puts down her sword, the tip of the blade towards the floor. I heave a sigh of relief and feel for my neck, instantly touching something wet. I look at my finger, realising that I’m bleeding slightly. How sharp is the blade? It cut me even though it’s just brushing against my neck lightly!

I better not push her too hard, lest I’d get cut down at this very moment.

The crinkles on her face only tell me that she’s trying to make sense of this information. Seems like her nationalistic character got her thinking hard, eh? She’s probably feeling shocked at first, then now she’s angry as she broods over the matter. Imagine being so proud of your nation’s ‘clean execution’, then realising that they’re the stupid ones for doing that. How funny is that!

Well now, it’s results time. What will this mean for me?

“Are you going to tell me more, or not?”

I give a short arrogant chuckle. “Well… what else do you want to know?”

She ponders for a bit.

“I want to know who’s involved. I want to know what they do. I want to know why they’re going against the code.”

“Aren’t you stepping over your boundaries here? From what I know, you’re not a Captain.”

Melissa clicks her tongue in disapproval. “I have my own authority here.”

“Well, unless you’re Captain ‘Gillard’, then I’ll listen. If not, you can just cut me down here right now and lose all your information. My lips are sealed.”

“Fuck!”

Her exasperation is clear, but that’s how it is. She’s not getting jack shit from me—though, up till now, they’ve all been blatant lies. Not that she’s smart enough to know that they are.

“I’ll get Captain Gillard! You, stay here—well, you can’t escape the spatial magic anyways. It’s one-way for you. Well, just don’t leave this holding room! I’ll get him.”

“Aye, aye, not-captain,” I say, snickering.

Melissa raises her sword. I stare into her eyes, goading her with my glare. She gulps and looks at her sword, then putting it away and leaving the cell in an angry, hurrying stomp.

“Well, time to move.”