I had previously spent days locked in my room, eating and sleeping in my bed, so prison life wasn't dramatically different from what I was accustomed to. But the atmosphere itself pressed down on my psyche—the damp stone walls, the stale air, the distant echo of footsteps that might belong to anyone.
The only thing making it bearable was Jelly, who had dragged in a proper bed and fresh clothes. Without him, I'd be sitting in a blood-crusted dress directly on the cold, bare ground. If that were the case, I would have fled long ago, grabbing his hand and disappearing.
Oh, and no one confiscated the things he brought. The guards were taken aback at first when they discovered my transformed accommodations, but apparently they decided one of their own had accepted a bribe and allowed the parcels through.
They began suspecting each other. A ruckus ensued. Additional guards were posted to keep tabs on one another.
It was like playing Mafia—only without an actual mafia.
Lost in these useless thoughts, I was reading the book Jelly had brought when the guard suddenly kicked the bars. The metallic clang reverberated through the cell. I closed the book and turned around.
He'd brought food.
"Look how comfortable you've made yourself."
The mocking voice sounded familiar. It was that same knight again—the Imperial Guard who'd been offended by Gabriel despite being his admirer. Out of jealousy, he was showing obvious hostility toward me.
"Argenti, that's enough."
Another knight tried to stop him, but he didn't so much as flinch.
"And who brought the book?" Argenti sneered, his lip curling. "The suspect in the heir's murder is living *well*."
_My own dog brought it._
"Do you think you'll live this peacefully?" He leaned closer to the bars, eyes glittering with malice. "Soon they'll chop off your head. No—they say you used evil magic, so they might burn you alive."
_Yes, both options are classic for a villain._
"Since you're going to die soon anyway, you don't need food."
The knight sneered and hurled the tray onto the floor. Food splattered across the stone—bread rolling into the corner, soup pooling in the cracks.
He'd brought it specifically to throw it in front of me. What kind of character was this? Didn't he know he'd be held responsible for wasting provisions?
These childish taunts should have been left behind in school, but in this damned novel, people didn't grow up without compulsory education. So this imperial knight behaved accordingly.
The others didn't even dare look up out of fear. And wasn't *he* afraid of me? No one had treated me like this since I possessed Evangeline. Or did he think he could attack me through the bars with impunity, like I was a caged animal?
Seeing my lack of reaction, Argenti pursed his lips. I didn't know what response he was expecting, but later I would simply call Jelly and have dinner with food from the Rohanson mansion. It was so delicious that prison slop didn't even compare. I didn't mind his little performance.
The best way to deal with such people was to ignore them.
Left without a response, the knight continued to fume. But at the end of his shift, he finally left.
---
The next shift brought a gloomy knight and a big man who looked more like a bandit than a soldier.
The gloomy one seemed to have been in some kind of trouble: his entire face was wrapped in gauze, and he limped badly, as if he'd been injured during training—or a fight. Apparently, the Imperial Guard was seriously short-handed if they were sending the wounded into active duty.
He limped over and, hunched miserably, began clearing away the food left by the previous guard. His partner, bereft of both companionship and conscience, simply stood and watched the injured man work.
_Wait... is this bullying?_
The big man remained by the door, watching indifferently. Then he began to nod off and, apparently deciding to get some real sleep, dragged a chair over and made himself comfortable.
"I'm keeping an eye on you, so don't even think about doing anything."
Mumbling something about feeling sleepy for some unknown reason, the big man leaned back in his chair and sank into a deep slumber. He even snored. Well, it was pre-dawn—prime napping time.
Although the big man had fallen asleep, the gloomy one continued cleaning the floor.
"How did you get so hurt?"
Showing sympathy, I asked what had happened. The gloomy knight winced and stared at me. Then he glanced sideways at the sleeping giant.
_Ah. So he's the one beating him._
Since the bully was right there, he couldn't even say a word. This really *was* bullying. I was watching official abuse unfold before my eyes, and I, sitting in prison, couldn't do anything to help.
"...It's because of you."
_What?_ Because of *me*?
I looked at him in surprise, and the gloomy knight, very quietly—almost in a whisper—poured out his resentment.
"I suffered because of you. They decided that *I* was the one who accepted bribes to let all these things into the prison."
So this gloomy one had been unfairly labeled "mafia" in a game without any mafia.
It really *was* my fault.
Was it because of me that he was being hounded? My conscience—which I thought had been erased long ago—stirred uncomfortably. If only I could contact Gabriel, something could be worked out.
But Gabriel hadn't shown up for our meetings. Before, he not only blabbed about internal affairs but also insisted on being alone with me. He was probably now banned from visiting.
I wanted to send a message through Jelly, but he complained that Gabriel didn't have a moment's peace. He wasn't sleeping, and it was nearly impossible to get close to him.
_Couldn't I ask Jelly to contact Gabriel so that someone wrongly accused isn't punished in vain?_
Was that too shameless a request?
Then the big man woke up. Seeing the gloomy one muttering something to me, he seemed to conclude that they were definitely in on it together.
True to his brutish nature, the big man grabbed the gloomy knight by the hair and started beating him. And he did it *right there*—right next to the bars—so I could see every blow.
"What are you doing?"
Watching someone be bullied before my eyes made rage flare in my chest. My voice came out sharp, cutting.
He was supposed to be an imperial knight, even though he looked like a bandit? A *knight*, and he was beating up a colleague?
"What am I doing?" The big man grinned. "Teaching him some manners."
Apparently, he thought that since I was behind bars, he could forget I was a villain.
_But I have a trump card._
"Pudding."
My new trump card was Pudding. After he'd transformed into a stunningly handsome man, it was as if his previous limitations had been lifted. He'd begun using magic with all his might. Perhaps his "vessel" had been too small as a child, and now, as an adult, he was capable of casting proper spells? I remembered reading something like that somewhere.
While Jelly specialized in teleportation, Pudding seemed to have the gift of invisibility. He was invisible, but if you called his name, he immediately appeared and helped. Our Jelly couldn't do that—his presence was too obvious to hide.
Pudding must have grabbed the big man by the chest, because suddenly the brute was hanging in mid-air, legs kicking uselessly. Choking, he clutched at his throat, wheezing and thrashing, trying to break free.
_Big deal. He's making a mountain out of a molehill._
Pudding's wrists were so thin that even if he squeezed as hard as he could, it probably didn't hurt *that* much.
"Don't you think you should learn some manners yourself first?"
It would be good if he could put himself in someone else's shoes. Pudding seemed to have learned that concept somewhere—he shook the big man gently, then released him.
"Cough... *cough*... ugh..."
The big man, as if embarrassed by his own hysterics, collapsed to the floor and lay motionless.
"What is it... did he die?"
_It can't be._ He was just overacting. Our Pudding was so soft he wouldn't hurt a fly. Although—no, he *did* go hunting with Jelly sometimes, so he killed animals. But that was for food. He didn't harm *people*.
"He'll get up now."
As soon as I finished speaking, the big man stood up unsteadily. Whether he was ashamed of his pretense or genuinely remorseful, he stood there with his head bowed, not meeting anyone's eyes.
"He won't dare hit you again."
Since he'd experienced something similar himself and now stood there in submission, I believed he wouldn't bother anyone else. At least he'd be quiet for a while.
And in the meantime, I should offer him a new opportunity. Since the Imperial Guards were all so *bizarre*, maybe I should ask if he'd like to join Gabriel instead? But first, we needed to get him out of here.
"Would you like to leave?"
If I were in his position, I'd disappear into thin air.
Given the chance, the big man immediately fled from the prison. Now it was just me and the gloomy one left in the cell.
"Help?"
Despite my offer, the gloomy knight hesitated.
_Fool, that's exactly the kind of situation people ask for help in._
Although... I was a suspect in the Crown Prince's murder and I was sitting in prison. His mistrust was understandable.
---
## — Antenor —
---
"Antenor, Polus—get ready for the shift change."
The voice calling out to the two finally stopped the kicks. Antenor, clutching his stomach where he'd been struck, lay on the floor and breathed heavily. Laughter and casual banter drifted down from above.
"Polus, why are you doing this to your friend? You've been going completely overboard lately."
"Bullshit." Polus cracked his knuckles. "What kind of *friend* is he to me? A scumbag who bends over backward for money. That's why you can't trust these worthless people with important matters. *Ugh*."
Spittle splattered across Antenor's face.
Unable to wipe the filthy drool away with his precious knightly uniform, Antenor rubbed his cheek against the dirty floor. The sticky moisture caused sand and grit to cling to his skin.
"I... told you." His voice was hoarse, broken. "I didn't take any bribes."
"You're telling me the cell just *transformed* into a luxury hotel while you were on duty, and it had nothing to do with you?" Polus cracked his thick neck, mocking him openly. "**Shameless**."