Episode 14
“Is he serious?”
Kyle brought his hand right to my mouth. His palm touched my greasy lips.
Sure, sweet and salty is a perfect combo—but not like this.
“Are you crazy?”
“If you want salt so badly, lick it off my hand.”
You know how deer on farms lick big blocks of salt? They just stand there, licking away until the whole thing disappears after a few months.
So, basically, I had to lick Kyle’s hand like a deer licks a salt block. Kyle is a salt block. He’s just a salt block. I repeated that to myself over and over like a mantra.
If this is what you really want, then fine. I’ll do it.
Slowly, I stuck out my tongue and licked the powder off his palm.
The salty tang of salt and the sweetness of sugar rolled into my mouth—and then, I bit down hard on his hand.
“Ugh!”
Kyle yanked his hand away, but my teeth left a very clear bite mark on the back of it. I’d bitten down with full force—it had to hurt.
I spat out a mix of spit, salt, sugar, and a little blood.
“How’s that taste? The flavor of a cannibal.”
After the meal, Kyle called a guard to take me away. I walked down the hallway outside the reception room, glancing out the window.
Fortress Prison sat on the edge of a cliff, surrounded by sea on three sides. There was only one road connecting it to the mainland. That single, straight path visible through the window was the only way in and out.
Whoever built this really knew what they were doing.
Ironically, the only real way to escape Fortress Prison… was to never enter in the first place.
Sounds weird, right? But once you’re in, getting out is basically impossible.
In other words, the only chances for escape are before you’re imprisoned—or when you’re released.
Should’ve made a run for it before I got thrown in!
I sighed softly at the useless thought.
At that moment, I spotted a fancy carriage rolling along the road. Definitely not the kind used to transport criminals. I would know—I’ve ridden in one.
A woman peeked her head out of the carriage window. She had neatly braided brown hair and wore a lavish dress—clearly a noblewoman.
A visitor? It wasn’t often someone visited this prison, especially one that held first-class criminals.
Out of pure curiosity, I narrowed my eyes and watched as the carriage grew closer. Just a little more, and I might’ve been able to see the family crest.
“Hurry up, why are you so slow?”
“W-Wait, hold on…”
The guard tugged my arm, pulling me away. I had no choice but to stop my investigation of the mysterious visitor.
When we returned to the underground cell block, Richard greeted me with a nod. Ever since he let me call him by name, I felt like we’d grown a little closer.
Just as I stepped into my cell, another guard came rushing down from upstairs. He called out Richard’s prisoner number.
“Prisoner 14395, step out. You have a visitor.”
They came to see Richard?
I turned to look at Richard with wide eyes. He seemed just as confused. Definitely not a scheduled visit.
Before I could say anything or even meet his eyes again, the guard led him out of the cell.
I sat there, stunned, watching his back disappear down the hallway.
Soon, the underground block was quiet. The guards and Richard were gone, and silence settled over everything. I slumped into my chair with a sigh.
Why am I even surprised? Of course someone might come visit him.
Richard wasn’t a foreigner like me. He was from the Empire. It made sense that friends or relatives would come see him.
Still… I must’ve subconsciously assumed that he was just as alone in the world as I was.
And not just any visitor—but a noblewoman. I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of relationship she had with him to come all the way here.
As I pondered the woman’s identity, a memory surfaced—a newspaper article I’d read a while back.
His fiancée. Right. He had a fiancée.
When Richard got engaged, the Imperial newspapers covered it in detail. Noble engagements were often political alliances, so the articles tended to include long-winded analysis and commentary.
According to one, the Crown Prince himself arranged Richard’s engagement, likely to solidify his political future.
Since Richard had grown up in a temple and his origins were unclear, the engagement helped reinforce his legitimacy.
His fiancée was a maid of the First Princess—who also happened to be the Crown Prince’s half-sister. She came from a long-standing, prestigious noble family, with a long lineage of relatives and connections.
A perfect match for someone like Richard, who lacked background. Marrying her and having children would basically “fix” his uncertain origins.
Even the sketch in the article had made them look like a picture-perfect couple.
Now I remembered why I didn’t recall the fiancée at first—I’d stopped reading the newspapers around that time.
Why did I forget about her? That fiancée might ruin my escape plan…
I rubbed my face with both hands in frustration.
My plan had been to persuade Richard to escape prison with me. I was willing to do whatever it took to get him on board.
But if he refused to escape because of his fiancée—then that was very bad. Like, disaster-level bad.
Unable to sit still with my thoughts all tangled like thread, I got up and started pacing inside my cell.
Richard eventually returned to the cell. His expression was calm, just like before—but if you looked closely, his face was slightly more serious.
I figured that after seeing his fiancée, he’d be in a better mood. But it was hard to tell for sure from such a subtle difference.
Trying (and failing) to act uninterested, I casually asked:
“I saw a noblewoman in a carriage earlier. That was your fiancée, right?”
“Yes.”
“She came a long way on her own. Even with a carriage, that must’ve been hard.”
“She didn’t come alone. Her older brother came with her.”
Judging by Richard’s grim expression, you’d think he’d just been told he was doomed in court, not that he’d had a reunion with his fiancée.
He clearly didn’t want to say more, and I wasn’t that eager to ask, so the conversation fizzled out.
That night, I lay awake staring at the ceiling.
There was no sound from Richard’s cell across from mine. The man responsible for my insomnia was peacefully asleep.
Only I was left tossing and turning, irritable and unable to stop thinking about his fiancée.
Honestly? I was jealous.
Now that she’s here, I don’t matter anymore, huh? Hmph. After everything between us, he just flips like that?
Grinding my teeth, I finally sat up with a start.
This wouldn’t do. If I wanted to escape before the witch trial, I had no choice. I’d have to use my body—seduction was the only way.
I picked the lock, slipped out of my cell, and entered Richard’s.
He was lying with his eyes closed, pretending to sleep. But the moment he heard me, he opened them.
I climbed onto his bed and sat on his legs.
“Veronica? Why are you here… Would you please get off me?”
Richard instinctively tried to move back and pushed at my shoulder, clearly flustered. But I pulled him into a hug.
“Shh, don’t be surprised.”
I looked at him with a confident smile. When our eyes met, Richard quickly looked away, blushing. His body felt warm like a heater.
He squirmed slightly, maybe because the physical contact made him uncomfortable. Even this small touch seemed to affect him.
“Why are you doing this all of a sudden?”
“As your escape partner, I thought we should build some trust. Should I start with the buttons?”
I guided his hand to the front of his prison uniform. When he didn’t move, I started unbuttoning it myself.
As I opened the top button and a bit of skin showed, his eyes began to shake.
Maybe I’d gone too far—he lost his composure and grabbed the front of my shirt tightly.
As I tried to pry his hand off, the fabric bunched under his grip, his knuckles taut with tension.
I gave up and gently stroked his face. He turned his head away, like a monk resisting temptation.
“P-Please don’t. This isn’t right.”
“You don’t have to pretend you don’t want it. This isn’t high society—it’s a prison.”
I ignored his weak resistance and rested my head against his chest. He flinched.
“That’s not the point. Ugh… You can’t do this!”
But despite his protests, the tension in his body started to ease.
He could’ve shoved me off with brute strength if he wanted. But the determined resistance he had when we first met was gone—now he was simply… surrendering to temptation.
