Episode 384

"Put it on hold for now," I said.

Leone blinked in surprise at my response. Judging by her expression, she had expected me to agree.

"Why?" she asked.

"There is no specific reason. If I had to explain it, I'd say it's a hunch," I said.

"A hunch..." she muttered.

It was an ambiguous phrase, but I trusted the instinct that surfaced in moments of crisis. That was especially true when the opponent was the Dark Church, those bastards I had encountered time and time again since my regression. After crossing paths with them so often, certain unwanted feelings had naturally taken root. Still, the more entangled we became, the more I came to despise them.

In any case, I often encountered them in moments of crisis, and at times, a strange feeling would flash through my heart. It was a vague premonition, something that could only be described as a sixth sense. More importantly, whenever I trusted that feeling, the situation had never turned for the worse.

Leone nodded. "Well, okay. I agree that we should watch the situation for now. However, you know very well that doing nothing won't solve anything, right?"

"Of course."

The most important thing to remember when dealing with those church bastards was to never grow optimistic just because they were quiet. Hence, I was already assuming the worst. For all I knew, just like at the academy, the demon king had already descended, even if only in an unstable form.

***

Morning in the labor camp arrived with the piercing blast of horns. The deafening call, more suited to a battlefield than a prison camp, echoed across the compound and shook the entire facility. The horns blared continuously for five full minutes, and for most prisoners, any hope of a pleasant wake-up had long since become a distant fantasy.

Another day of work begins.

It was the same for Nadin, a thirty-one-year-old prisoner in Block 107. Convicted of murder and assault, he had been sentenced to twenty-seven years in prison and was currently serving his seventh year.

Most prisoners reacted similarly after receiving decades-long sentences. They denied reality, became angry like madmen, and searched desperately for ways to escape before finally giving up and accepting it.

Nadin had been no different. By the time he served twenty years, he would already be fifty. For some people, fifty was still young, an age full of possibilities, but not for Nadin. To him, it marked the downhill road of life, the end of youth, the beginning of old age, and the slow wait for death.

Despite this, Nadin tried to think as positively as possible. Still, isn't it better than the Utgard Camp?

It was the worst camp in history. Prisoners stay locked in solitary cells all day, endured torture, and were even used as experimental subjects. Of course, risking his life every day was annoying. Other than that, the labor camp wasn't so bad. At least there, prisoners were allowed a minimum amount of freedom.

Honestly, the fact that he had survived seven years in the labor camp already made him something of a veteran. Fewer than three percent of prisoners lasted more than five years.

All I have to do is survive somehow and look good to the one in charge. If he received a good evaluation, he would likely become a model prisoner and earn parole. Fifty was too far away. Forty would be enough. Nadin would have no other wishes if he could leave the labor camp by then.

"Shit." Nadin had been thinking hopefully like this, but the curse slipped out anyway. "Twenty years is enough!"

Damn long-lived bastards. Nadin's fists clenched every time the fairy in the same room said something so casual.

Ten years sounded simple when spoken aloud, but living through it was another matter entirely. Some days dragged on so slowly that he wanted to vomit. Morning work was the worst. He had to wake up early in the morning, eat tasteless food, and haul bricks while drenched in sweat. Those hours seemed endless.

There were no clocks where he worked, so he constantly guessed when the guards would finally shout for them to stop.

By the time he finished his morning shift, he usually felt on the verge of collapsing. The sweet, honey-like lunch break passed in an instant before afternoon work started. It was the hottest part of the day, so the work tended to be lighter than in the morning. Most of the tasks involved assembling parts or organizing materials. The work was so monotonous and repetitive that it almost lulled him to sleep, but it wouldn't end with just a scolding if a guard caught him sleeping.

After gritting his teeth and enduring the drowsiness, dinner finally arrived. Of course, for prisoners, mealtime was nothing more than a chance to refill their stomachs with nutrients. It brought neither emotion nor pleasure. This was especially true in the evening. Most preferred to shovel food into their mouths, return to their rooms, and rest for even a minute longer.

Strangely, though, his stomach churned, and his mouth watered today.

Is it because I'm too active today? The work really isn't that different from any other day. N-no. The puzzled Nadin soon realized that the dining hall was more crowded than usual.

The reason was self-evident. Today, the dining hall smelled different.

At that moment, he saw the fairy coming out and patting his stomach with a satisfied expression. The fairy lived in the same room as Nadin.

Nadin grabbed him and hurriedly asked, "Hey, what is going on here?"

"Huh?" Then the fairy grinned. "What? Did you just come to eat now?"

"I was resting in my room and got a little hungry. That isn't the point. What is going on?" Nadin asked again.

"If you haven't eaten yet, then you still have one joy in life," the fairy said cryptically.

"What?"

"Go see for yourself. I didn't know eating was such a pleasure." The fairy chuckled and walked past him.

Nadin entered the dining hall with a puzzled expression, only to pause in confusion at what he saw.

Head was someone whose face was rarely seen outside the kitchen, if it could even be called that. Since the work ended with him dumping canned food onto trays, he was closer to a supplier than a cook. Yet today, he had come out into the dining hall and was personally serving the food.

There was only one dish: mansaf. Rice sat beneath a meat stew topped with almonds and even vegetables.

Nadin had eaten mansaf a few times before, but he had never smelled something so fragrant. It was a dish that required a great deal of effort, from cooking the rice in broth to shredding the meat.

"Give me a bit more."

"There is a limit to the daily rations, so no." Head spoke in the same harsh voice as usual, yet he somehow sounded satisfied. For once, his characteristic boredom was gone, and his eyes were full of life.

Finally, it was Nadin's turn. He received a serving of mansaf on his plate, sat down, and immediately took a bite.

Nadin was astonished.

Flavor burst across his tongue with every bite of the crispy rice. It was definitely cooked in broth, giving it exceptional depth of umami. The meat was so tender that it numbed his tongue, as if it had been cooked quite early. Most of all, though, were the spices!

Nadin had forgotten the taste of pungent spices after so long. He had been eating plain canned meat without seasoning, so the combination of tender meat, spices, and cheese was almost overwhelming.

"Kyaak..."

Nadin finished his meal in no time and licked his lips with satisfaction. He could understand why another prisoner had asked for more earlier.

I want to eat more. By the way, what day is it today that we received such a special meal? Is it the Golden Lord's birthday? In any case, Nadin didn't expect this kind of meal to continue. Damn. Tomorrow, I will have to eat canned food again.

The thought made him sigh.

***

That evening, just after dinner, the new director of Block 107 summoned the prisoners for the first time.

"Why is he calling us in our free time?"

"It isn't a big deal, so just go."

Those who were still dissatisfied with the lesser-race leader voiced their complaints. Even aside from that, most of them were annoyed at having their free time interrupted, so they stood around with sullen expressions.

For a while, the cynical atmosphere and grumbling continued. Then it suddenly vanished. The main character had appeared.

Nadin swallowed hard the moment he saw the black-scaled lizardman. He had seen him in passing, but this was the first time they had met so directly.

Is that really a lizardman?

He looked more like a legendary dragon rather than a lizard. Even for a lizardman, his massive frame and rough scales, which seemed sturdy enough to deflect a blade, were impressive. The scars etched on them were crude, like marks carved into ancient stone. His appearance and imposing presence emanated the aura of a warrior.

In many ways, this lizardman was a prisoner with unprecedented achievements. Most notably, he was the only one who became a director just two days after being admitted.

"I saw that lizardman fighting. He looked like an evil spirit."

"Evil spirit?"

"Yes!He slaughtered three larvae larger than a building like some kind of butcher. At the end, he even let out a roar loud enough to rival a horn blast."

"The fact that he is a member of the lesser races is a bit... Still, I owe him my life. He seems out of the ordinary, so I plan to stay quiet for the time being."

Nadin was recalling the conversation he just had when the black lizardman spoke.

"I am late introducing myself. I am Luzard, the new director."

Naturally, there was no response. A few members of the lesser races standing in the distance clapped briefly, but even that quickly died away.

Nevertheless, Luzard continued with an unperturbed expression, "I don't know whether you were satisfied with dinner. The improved meal is the first of many changes that I have prepared for Block 107. There will be both major and minor changes in the future."

"Did this lizardman prepare that meal?"

A faint stir spread through the crowd around Nadin.

Luzard waited for the murmuring to settle. "I know most of you have been treated like filth outside. Everyone gathered here is living life at the bottom. Life was difficult before prison, and it will remain so after release. A sinner's scars aren't so easy to remove."

The prisoners' expressions turned uneasy. The truth that they had long tried to ignore washed over them.

"As long as we are in the labor camp, we are all guilty criminals. No matter whether we have suffered injustices or have been falsely accused, this is the reality. However, I think it's unnecessary for us to divide ourselves into ranks or discriminate against one another while serving our sentences. As a member of the lesser races, I know these words sound harsh. Still, that is what I believe."

"So what? Should we stop discriminating against the lesser races from now on? After all, we are the same bottom feeders anyway?" one of the prisoners asked stiffly.

Some prisoners looked at Luzard nervously, but he continued calmly, "In the end, the only ones who can truly see and judge us are ourselves. We are sinners with the same identity, gathered in one space to serve our sentences. That is the reality we share right now. Of course, I know this isn't something that can be radically changed overnight."

Luzard looked around. "I'm not trying to boast, but during the last subjugation battle, I saved everyone I could. I didn't prioritize anyone during those rescues. I would've acted the same way even if the deceased former director had been there. It isn't because I am especially virtuous. In this unreasonable labor camp, where you never know when death may come, the only individuals even remotely worth trusting are those who share the same affiliation."

Luzard's tone gradually intensified. "Some of those that I rescued came to thank me, while others continued looking at me with an unchanged attitude. In other words, like I am lowly and barbaric. Still, that is fine. It is very difficult to change long-standing prejudice, habits, and mindsets in an instant. But we should avoid unnecessary quarrels or fights."

Even though the sun had long since set, Nadin felt a burning heat rise inside him.

Luzard went on, "From the moment we became sinners and were sent to this labor ground, we began living a life where death can come at any moment. So what can we trust? Our own races? The guards? None of that is right. Our comrades living the same life are the only ones we can trust."

"Did you just say comrades?"

"Yes." Luzard nodded. "I don't know how long I can remain your director. A huge monster may appear tomorrow, and I could die fighting it. But whenever a centurion, a legion, or an even greater monster appears, I intend to continue fighting on the front lines. I also promise not to use the points I earn for personal gain. Instead, I will invest them into improving the living conditions. Improving the food quality in the dining hall is part of that."

At those words, a huge ripple spread through the crowd. There wasn't a single prisoner who hadn't tasted the food today.

Head, who had been silent, also stepped forward. "That's right. The director used most of the points he earned from defeating monsters last time to purchase ingredients and tools."

This time, cries of admiration erupted throughout the camp.

Nadin felt the same astonishment. If Luzard had spent the enormous number of points he earned from the monster hunt on himself, he could have lived comfortably in the labor camp for years. Yet instead of indulging himself, he had chosen to use those valuable resources to improve the camp for everyone. None of the previous directors had ever done anything like that.

"Of course, it still won't compare to life outside, but I want to make sure that even in this hellish place, we can still enjoy a few small comforts, even if our lives have hit the bottom."

One of the human men raised his hand. "Why are you doing this? As you just said, we are all sinners. Big or small, we were brought here because we committed crimes. Why would you go this far for us, mere criminals?"

The eyes of everyone present turned to Luzard.

Nadin believed this was the most important moment. They were all sinners, those accustomed to dark and negative thoughts. They were twisted individuals who struggled to accept goodwill at face value. They distrusted anyone who offered them anything, and only felt reassured when that individual finally revealed the hidden dagger.

What mattered was the other party's intention. As long as they couldn't understand the lizardman's motives, they couldn't truly believe him. No matter how sincere his intentions were, they couldn't accept them.

Luzard fell silent and looked around at all the prisoners again.

For a moment, Nadin felt as if those purple eyes were looking beyond the prisoners and toward the entire labor camp.

"I'm not saying that I accept the crimes you have committed. I don't want to deny that you are criminals. It isn't easy to change one's heart. Before I became a sinner, I became an outcast of my tribe. Before I was an outcast, I was a warrior."

A warrior. To put it bluntly, he was a fighter.

"No matter what crimes you have committed or what kind of past you carry, I believe you deserve basic comforts if you're fighting with your life on the line." Luzard declared as he met the prisoners' eyes, "This is the minimum courtesy I can offer to a warrior."