Stunning Prisoner - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I stared intently at Arthur’s tie.

“That doesn’t look like something Claire would’ve picked.”

Arthur and I had gotten close after he introduced Claire to me as his girlfriend.

Claire was the starting point between Arthur and me. In the beginning, she and I had a minor misunderstanding that left a lasting impression on both of us.

My brother and I lived together, and since we did the same work, we both had irregular hours coming home. By “same work,” I mean handling requests like today’s—taking on jobs and getting paid for them. I’d learned everything from my brother.

Right after we moved in, Claire—who lived next door—had the wrong idea. She thought my brother and I were a married couple who each kept lovers on the side while pretending to just live together. When I heard that directly from her, I’d been so nauseated I nearly threw up, disgusted by such a twisted imagination. But that misunderstanding cleared up quickly.

Anyway,

The problem was, by Claire’s standards, the tie Arthur was wearing was downright tacky.

“So why didn’t Claire come with you?”

Arthur would’ve told her about tonight’s dinner, and Claire would’ve definitely exclaimed, “Oh, I’d love that!” Normally, instead of just meeting Arthur alone, I usually met with him and Claire together.

“Sigh…”

Arthur let out a heavy sigh as if he’d been waiting for me to ask, then took a drink. He looked like he had a lot to say.

“You wouldn’t believe how much she’s been buried in work lately. It’s been ages since she even had a weekend off.”

He added that sometimes he barely even got to see her face at night, pulling a gloomy expression.

I recalled Claire’s job. She worked in the City Maintenance Administration of East Tres, in District 3. Which meant if she was stuck working late, the entire department must have been swamped.

“Because of the Quinque Millenbana rampage incident?”

Quinque was the district closest to Tres. It was also where my brother and I had lived before moving here.

District 4, Quinque, had lots of vagrants, and the police were corrupt—so it was classified as a dangerous area, rough and violent. But at the same time, that made it dynamic, even entertaining.

Across Sono there were nine districts, including Quinque. Beyond them were creatures known as “Creatures.” Their numbers were small, so human settlement had pushed them out further and further. But since they couldn’t be completely eradicated, that was the best solution.

Because of that, points of contact between humans and Creatures inevitably arose. Hybrids born from interbreeding too—like the middle-aged woman who’d been disposed of at today’s outdoor lunch party.

And in this world, there were humans who possessed powers like those of Creatures. People like me—“ability users.” Sometimes, when their control slipped, those powers could lead to violent rampages. Millenbana, the culprit behind the Quinque incident, was a prime example.

Arthur slammed the table, suppressing his anger.

“Do you know how much my honey is suffering because of that bastard? And yet the Quinque administration gets to clock out on time, while the Tres administration is in chaos? How the hell is that fair?”

Typical Quinque. The atmosphere there was a world apart from here, where the worst you got was the occasional robbery or murder. Over there, fights and rampages were practically routine.

“God, if I ever see that bastard, I’ll rip him apart with my bare hands.”

“You’d be the one ripped apart.”

I calmly sipped my drink as I replied. His sharp glare shot at me, but hey—it was the truth.

Arthur grumbled.

“You’re supposed to empathize at times like this. Damn it.”

***

After parting ways with Arthur, I passed through a musty-smelling alley. The night was dim and quiet, so even the smallest sounds stood out—the trickle of someone relieving themselves around a corner, or a rat rummaging through the garbage heap.

I reached my destination and looked up. The lights were off—my brother hadn’t come home yet.

I climbed the stairs and stopped in front of the door. The hand holding the key hovered in the air.

“……”

Seconds ticked by.

The building was old. The front door handle often broke, and though we’d fixed it recently, it had broken again. Because of that, when pressed down, it wouldn’t spring back up—you had to manually lift it. But neither my brother nor I ever bothered fixing it properly. Maybe it was our similar personalities.

Which meant the handle should’ve been down. But right now, it was up.

‘…Well.’

The thought flashed by in an instant.

No sooner had I stepped out of the building than hurried footsteps followed close behind me.

Bang—bang, bang!

Gunshots cracked the air.

And now, back to the present. Roughly around this time, yes?

“Billy Winter. You are under arrest for the murder of Hayel William.”

There had been a window of opportunity. Just a brief instant before the specially crafted restraints locked tight around my wrists. But for me, an instant was enough.

The reason I missed that slim chance was the face I spotted in the distance.

Claire stood naturally beside an officer of the Police Federation, chatting as though she belonged there. Looking every bit the part of an ordinary “City Maintenance Administration staff member.”

Ha—. So that’s how it was. I hadn’t realized. She was never just a city official.

That was all that crossed my mind.

As for my brother? No need to worry. He wouldn’t come. Not after all this commotion. Showing up now would be suicide.

A bitter taste filled my mouth. I couldn’t help but recall that damned grassy-green tie.

‘No wonder it looked so awful.’

The sunglasses dangling from my outer coat pocket slipped out, fell to the ground, and were crushed under someone’s foot with a crack—shattered.

The restraints around my wrists felt endlessly suffocating.

The verdict in the courtroom hadn’t taken long. After all, it was true that I killed Hayel William. He was a clergyman, I think. Probably.

My brother and I had a rule when taking jobs: never kill an innocent.

That priest who trafficked in orphans wasn’t exactly what you’d call innocent. The name Hayel barely even rang a bell for me, so faint was the memory of him—he meant nothing. The trial’s focus soon shifted away from Hayel William to my own crimes.

I squeezed out tears I never shed in life, as though begging for sympathy. I forced myself to think of something sad. Truthfully, there wasn’t a single memory worth crying over.

For a moment, the sight of my pitiful tears seemed to stir the court. Then the man who had me in custody finally drove the nail into the coffin. Him—always him. A loathsome tie that never seemed to end.

In the end, I spat out my true feelings.

“Ah, fuck this.”

My voice was quickly drowned out by the thunderous echo of the judge’s sentence.

“The defendant is hereby sentenced to imprisonment.”

But that wasn’t the end.

“10 years in Catena Prison.”

It wasn’t just the jury who doubted their ears. I did too. Ah, fuck! You’ve got to be kidding me.

It wasn’t the number ten that was the problem—it was that name, Catena. For a moment, I doubted my hearing.

Anyone living in Sono knew about Catena Prison.

***

In this line of work, you brush shoulders with others more often than you’d like. And with that came all sorts of rumors—prisons being a favorite subject. Criminals often ranked which facilities they dreaded most. Some, surprisingly, got points for being relatively comfortable. On that side of the scale, Mannello Prison was said to be the best.

But if you were sentenced at level two or higher, even the richest bastard could forget about Mannello. From then on, not even prayers to God would help. The prison was already decided. And God Himself would turn His eyes away from lambs sent to Catena.

Because Catena was the worst prison on the face of the earth.

Built on an island, surrounded on all sides by an endless ocean. The waters swarmed with sea-dragon-type creatures, isolated beyond reach. With no predators, the sea-dragons grew to monstrous sizes, and to them, prisoners were nothing but convenient snacks.

Ability-users might scoff—why be afraid of sea-dragons? But in Catena, it didn’t matter whether you had powers or not.

That was the second reason it was called the worst prison in existence.

Click.

The restraints around my wrists came undone. With a blindfold over my eyes, I had to rely on senses other than sight. I wasn’t the only one here; there were several of us. Around my neck, a choking collar—like a dog’s—dug in.

Same as the cuffs when I was first arrested. Ability suppression. The helplessness it brought was unsettling.

Time passed, then the ground beneath my feet jolted. A low rumbling, then footsteps vibrating through the floor. Someone seized my arm and dragged me along. I stumbled, but they hauled me without care.

The floating sensation of the floor beneath me shifted—solid ground at last. The air that hit my nose was crisp, painfully clean. So sharp a contrast it felt unreal.

My blindfold was yanked off. Sunlight struck me raw, making me squint and bow my head. The ropes binding me tight were harshly visible now.

When I lifted my head, my narrowed, squinting vision caught sight of a tall structure. White walls towering high, with more buildings stretched along its side. At the far end, the structures curved into a massive dome.

“Quit crawling like a slug and move.”

A shove from behind forced me to walk. We prisoners had to line up and follow the guards’ orders step by step.

There was no entrance at the dome’s front. We turned aside, and I took in the surroundings.

The endless sea. The island.

‘So this is Catena.’

My mouth dried out. The overwhelming sense was stronger than I’d imagined. Far bigger than the rumors, more imposing than I’d pictured. It looked deceptively peaceful, but I could already feel tension creeping in. My lips curled faintly upward. The tension wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

Whistle—

A sharp whistle rang out from behind the barbed-wire fence.

“Heh. So this is the new fish, huh?”

Dozens of eyes fell on me. Behind the wire, a man in an orange jumpsuit raked his gaze across my face, then smirked.

“Shit, this bitch is pretty as hell.”

Then he made a jerking motion with his hips, obscene and mocking. The guards didn’t stop him. I met his stare flatly and walked past. Bits of voices trailed after me.

“Wait a sec… that face… I’ve seen her before.”

“She’s the one who killed Saint Hayel, isn’t she?”

The words spread like wildfire. Curses, jeers, filthy jokes—all of it chased me endlessly from behind.