In the silence of the dark corridor, only the clinking sound of iron chains clink and the young man's ragged breaths could be heard. Both his wrists and ankles were locked by heavy iron cuffs, making each step heavy and painful as he dragged himself forward. The cuffs bit into his wrists and ankles, they felt cold and sore. Meanwhile, the guards on either side held his arms in a tight grip, making him walk with his back lowered and his head bowed. The musty air, lingering with the smell of mold and rot, making the entire place feel even more disturbing.
As they moved through the prison's narrow hallways, shadows flickered and appeared along the walls in the dim light. Behind them, whispers rose as prisoners peered out through the bars, glaring at the young man, their gazes like sharpened knives.
"Look at him." One prisoner spat. "That noble bastard finally gets what he deserves."
"You think he'll last a week?" Another voice joined in, dripping with malice.
The young man gritted his teeth in frustration but remained quiet. Every word they said felt like a strike against his dignity; he knew for sure that he didn't done anything wrong, yet he was being blamed for Isaak's actions. However, he couldn't afford to show weakness now, not in front of these men who would take satisfaction in his struggle and laugh at him.
Deep breaths... Stay calm. Remember what that old man said. Just ignore the whispers and I should be fine…
They stopped in front of a dark oak door. Despite its old scratches, it still remained polished, with golden letters spelling 'WARDEN' gleaming on its surface.
One guard stepped forward and knocked against the wood while the others leaned closer, whispering mockingly into Isaak's ears.
"Don't die so soon in there to our boss. We still want to see you suffer more."
The door creaked open slowly, revealing a tall and lean figure. Even from a distance, the warden's presence felt overwhelming, a menace that could make everyone uncomfortable with the fear it brought.
"Come in." His deep voice commanded from within, hiding an anger that only the young man could sense.
Ah crap… I'm totally doomed. The young man gulped nervously.
The guards exchanged glances before shoving Isaak into the warden's office. As he stumbled inside, struggling to regain balance with the heavy iron chain, the scent of leather and metallic immediately filled his nostrils.
The warden's office appeared before Isaak, its cold, bare gray walls giving off an harsh, suffocating chill. Framed mugshots pinned on the walls, each face captured in despair. Some had 'CAPTURED' stamped across them in red letters, while others stamped with the word 'EXECUTED'. The expressions varied from desperation to sheer terror, each one were a reminder of failed escapes and lost lives.
Nearby, riot gears such as helmets, shields, and iron batons hung on display, gleaming under the flickering light. The sight sent a shiver down Isaak's spine.
One hit from those baton and I'd be dead as hell. He thought.
In one corner, a clock ticked steadily but lacked a second hand, making time feel frozen.
Isaak's gaze drifted toward the window. Outside, mountains rose, their peaks like jagged teeth puncturing through the clouds as the sun was setting down. They seemed distant and unattainable… a scene that contrasted with his current surroundings.
He turned back inside and noticed a tall bookshelf filled with an varied mix of books. Law books with cracked spines stood beside dark novels and thick folders full of criminal files. And what surprised him the most was the amount of mechanical books about engineering principles sitting in volumes that seemed untouched by time or dust.
At the center of the office sat a massive, intimidating, dark-stained oak desk. Its surface was covered by a green leather desk pad, stained with some ink marks. On its surface sat an heavy black rotary phone, alongside an ashtray piled high with burnt-out cigarette butts. Above it all, a Tiffany-style lamp cast a warm, soft light, making the room a bit less gloomy.
Finally, Isaak's eye fell upon a framed photo on the desk. Compared to everything else, it and the Tiffany-style lamp seemed out of place.
All of a sudden, the warden's voice broke the silence of the room.
"Sit, Isaak." His voice was cold and demanding.
The young man flinched at the sudden voice but obeyed anyway. As he took a seat on the creaking chair right in front of the warden's desk, he felt small, the backrest pressing against him uncomfortably.
The warden slowly rotated his gray swivel chair to face Isaak. And for the first time, Isaak could finally see the warden's face clearly at close range. He had medium-long blonde hair, with strands falling carelessly over his forehead. His chin was covered by a short, scruffy beard, a clear sign of days without proper shaving. The olive suit he wore seemed crisp and tailored, but the golden badge on his chest glinting brightly, showing his rank and authority. He held a small novel in his hand, about halfway through.
The warden's cold, steel-blue eyes locked onto Isaak, his gaze showing absolutely no warmth or pity, only a chilling, murderous intent.
"Isaak Semenov. You made quite an… introduction." He said, closing the novel and placing it on the desk.
Continue the story. As the warden still trying to kept calm as he continue to Isaak. Saying things like 'Creating chaos in my prison, that so called high pride noble blood of yours disgusted me, even after entering this place, you still haven't learn your place' types… And as the young man tried to explain like 'I didnt do anything, that prisoner name Mikhail or some sort start it and I just got involved in it' types (mostly tried to explain himself and express he didnt know crap). But at one time, the warden cut Isaak words with 'After what you done, masscaring your entire family, you still tried to act innocent?' with a really low pitched voice, hidden fury and cold meaning inside words, murderous intent… and some sorts… He didnt smirk or anything, just cold, he didnt move, he didnt smile, he didnt chuckle, he just stare and said with logic and seriousness (STOP RIGHT THERE, DONT BRING THE YOUNG MAN AWAY)
The warden leaned back on his chair, putting his fingertips together on the desk and stared coldly at Isaak. As the room grew chiller and chiller, the atmosphere also felt like it was freezing over.
"You created chaos in my prison, knowing very well that I'm still here." He said slowly, each word precise and ruthless. "That so-called 'noble blood' and your high pride disgust me. Even after entering this place, you still haven't learned your place, you filthy trash."
The young man swallowed hard, his throat dry. He had never been one to be scared off so easily, or at least that's what he thought, but the warden's words were just too heavy, pressing down on him in a way he'd never experienced before, not even that old man was this ruthless.
"I didn't do anything!" He protested, his voice filled with anxiety. "That prisoner—Mikhail—or whatever the name is—he started it all! I just got involved!"
The warden's eyes narrowed slightly, unblinking and cold as ice. And the young man could feel the tension crackling in the air between them. Still, he needed to try, to convince, just like how he had convinced the old man.
"You have to understand! I'm not like those other prisoners! I don't belong her—"
But before he could finish, the warden interrupted him with a low, intimidating voice dripping with murderous intent.
"After what you've done…? Massacring your entire family, and you still try to act innocent…?"
The room fell silent again as the weight of the warden's words hanging heavily in the air. And The young man… he felt as if he'd been cornered, as if every words striking directly at his heart and his dignity.
"I… I didn't do it." He tried to stay calm, but his efforts were clearly failing.
The warden leaned forward slightly, his cold eyes staring into Isaak's soul with an intensity that threatened to end his life right where he was. The murderous intent was so thick it made the young man feel suffocated just from the pressure.
"Say that again."
The command cracked through the air like a gunshot, and the young man can't help but shivered in pure terror. His body's instinct screamed that death was certain if he didn't do something right now.
The warden's voice dropped even lower, filled with unspoken fury. "I said, open your mouth and spilled out what you just said to me."
The young man clenched his fists so hard they started to hurt as he finally managed to open his mouth.
"I said I didn't do it… I don't remember anything—"
Before the young man could finish his sentence, he felt a sharp pain suddenly pierced through his neck. He froze, feeling the cold metal pressing against his throat. From nowhere, five mechanical arms made of steel segments suddenly appeared right in front of him. Their sharp needles tips hung just a millimeter away from his throat, ready to dig into his flesh at any moment.
…Those things again… Where did this even come from? He thought.
The warden slammed his hand on the table, his gaze sharp and icy, as if he could take the young man's life right on the spot. "DON'T BULLSHIT WITH ME!" The warden's voice shouted like thunder, making Isaak flinch. "YOU KILLED HER!"
…What?
The weight of those words hit the young man like a crushing blow, overwhelming him. He felt confusion mix with panic as he struggled to recall.
Killed who?! No, the real question should be, how many people has that damn bastard Isaak Semenov even killed?! He screamed in his head. Why is everything bad happening to me!?
Despite his loud shouting, the warden's expression remained unreadable, yet the anger in his eyes was clear and intense. The young man felt trapped under the warden's piercing gaze.
"She had nothing to do with your family's ridiculous political games. She was innocent, and she even treated you nicely..." With every word the warden spoke, the mechanical arms moved closer and closer, until the young man felt the sharp needles on his throat. "But you... regardless of all that, you killed your own sister with your own hands…"
A flicker of realization sparked in the young man's mind A sister? So Isaak have a sister? That… explained. He shivered as guilt clawed inside him. He knew he shouldn't feel this way, that it wasn't his fault, yet he couldn't help it.
"I…" The young man struggled to speak, words stuck in his throat. He couldn't bring himself to say anything.
"Your silence says it all." The warden continued, his voice dripping with venom. "You think you can come in here and play victim? You slaughtered your own family. Do you even realize what you took from me?"
The young man swallowed hard. Each accusation struck deep, and he knew that he had nothing to defend himself except that nonsense story of his. He had no idea who this sister of Isaak's was or how she intertwined with his murderous past.
After minutes of silences, the warden leaned back slightly, his eye now filled with hatred and a deep, unspoken sadness.
"You're lucky because the royal family wants you alive." He clenched his teeth. "They want to judge and execute 'The Sinner of the Empire' by their own hands to increase their trust in people." For the first time, the warden's lips curled into a mocking smile. "So they tasked me with ensuring you don't die just yet."
Judgment? Execution? A pit formed in Isaak's stomach. He sensed that whatever twisted fate awaited him would be far worse than death itself.
"If it weren't for them." The warden continued slowly, his tone colder than ice. "I would've killed you right the moment you stepped foot in this prison. But for now, all I can do is wish..." He leaned closer again, his voice dropping to its lowestand filled with pure hatred.
"Before you face a brutally execution, have you ever considered KILL YOURSELF?
You might escape a painful death by KILL YOURSELF NOW, a great option, wouldn't you agree? Your life is NOTHING anyways, so why not KILL YOURSELF?"
The young man couldn't take it anymore and decided to shut his eyes tightly. He felt despair slowly overwhelm him, but he couldn't afford to show weakness now so he held it back, trying to control his breaths and ignore the warden's venomous words.
No… This is nothing. I can endure it… He told to himself. There will be harder things, so I shouldn't give up now…
After expressing what he wanted to express, the warden leaned back on his chair, letting out a long, heavy sigh. His gaze shifted to the clock, then to the window, realizing it was starting to get late.
"Let's just move back to the main topic…" He began, his voice now a little calmer. "According to the rules, you will be punished for causing chaos. However, since this is your first day…" He paused for a moment, as if considering something then continued. "I've decided to cut your meals and keep you from yard access for three days."
With a slight flick of the warden, the mechanical arms vanished into the air as if they had never existed in the first place. The young man let out a shaky breath of relief, knowing their conversation had finally over now.
The warden coughed, cleared his throat and then spoke loudly enough for the guards outside to hear. "Guards, bring this prisoner back to his cell."
Heavy footsteps echoed outside as the two guards from earlier entered. "Yes sir, Morozov!" They moved toward Isaak, grasping his arms tightly and lifting him off the chair without warning, making the young man almost stumbled due to the heavy iron chains.
As they dragged Isaak away, Warden Morozov remained in his seat, his blue eyes coldly stared at Isaak until he was out of sight. Then, his gaze shifted to the framed picture on the desk. The picture showed him smiling, standing next to a woman, a scene that was so... happy. Yet, his eyes held an unspoken sadness.
"I'm sorry, Katherine. I failed to protect you…"
—————————————
After minutes of walking, Isaak was thrown back into his cell by the guards, the heavy chains clanking against the stone floor.
"Agh… This rusty smell again…" He groaned as he slowly stood up.
The air felt thick as he glanced around, and his eyes landing on an old man, who was sitting in a dark corner. Frode was chewing on something that hardly could be called food: a piece of moldy bread that looked like it had been forgotten for ages on a kitchen shelf.
As soon as Isaak saw the old man, he felt a mix of irritation and annoyance.
"Old man… WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?!" Isaak's voice cut through the air. He couldn't believe Frode had just left him to face Mikhail alone that afternoon in the yard.
Frode looked up, unfazed by Isaak's irritation as he continued to gnawing on the bread. "Yo kiddo, you survived that conversation with the warden? I thought you will be dead as hell." He popped another piece of the so-called bread into his mouth and chewed slowly.
"What's do you mean 'Yo'? I almost got my throat slit by that damn man and the first you say is 'Yo'?" Isaak held his forehead, dumbfounded by the situation.
"Oh please, you're still look very alive. And you should be thankful for it, things could be far worse." Frode shrugged as if it were nothing.
Isaak shot him a glare, but then remembered something important, unable to contain his questions any longer, he immediately open his mouth. "Oh yeah I forgot, you wouldn't believe what I saw out there!"
Frode raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? What was it this time?"
Isaak leaned closer to the old man, lowering his voice as if sharing a dark secret. "You don't know this, but while you were gone, something incredibly strange happened in the yard. When the warden showed up, a weird-looking wall just appeared out of nowhere and stopped Mikhail's punch aimed at me, only to vanish into thin air afterwards. And then there were those mechanical arms! They suddenly appeared from nowhere when I was speaking to the warden." He paused to catch his breath before continuing. "And once the warden waved his hand, they just disappeared just like the weird-looking wall! I swear, I nearly lost my mind when I saw those things! It was like some sort of magic!"
Frode paused mid-chew and stared at Isaak with wide eyes as if he were an alien.
"Wait, You must kidding me. You don't know that?"
"What's 'that' supposed to mean?" Isaak asked back suspiciously.
Frode shook his head slowly, an amused glint in his eye amidst the grim atmosphere of their cell.
"Come here and sit down first." The old man said, waving his hand as a sign for Isaak to sit down next to him. "There is now way you don't know about Disciplines."
The young man tilted his head slightly, a puzzled expression on his face.
"What is 'Disciplines'?"