[Chapter 11]
“I don’t recall ever saying I’d be attending any social gathering.”
Everything happened in an instant. Jace, who had been admiring me just moments ago, turned pale, and a choking sound escaped his throat.
“Treating living beings like objects… Is that a common trait among you noble bastards?”
Gkk. Krrk.
The man who had been floating in the air gasped like a fish dragged out of water. Choked by Deon’s grip, his shoulders and upper body were flushed a deep purple-red.
“L–Lemoni. Lemo—”
“Why are you calling her? She’s a noble, isn’t she? Then you should be calling for your own servant.”
Deon cut the man off mid-sentence. Tilting his head lazily, a hint of boredom shone through his sharp gaze.
Not the kind of emotion you’d expect from someone in total control of the situation.
“You’re just like the rest of them.”
Exactly.
“Are all of your kind this way?”
Deon was thoroughly disgusted with humanity.
He opened his clenched fist, and the man collapsed to the floor like a discarded object.
Without sparing a glance at the unconscious man, Deon turned abruptly and began walking toward the stairs. Because of the shackle connecting us at the right hand, I had no choice but to follow.
Our strides were wildly mismatched—likely due to the significant height difference—so I was practically dragged along.
“…That person was just acting weird. Please don’t pay attention to him.”
I hurriedly tried to explain while stumbling along, but Deon didn’t even flinch.
“There are definitely people who feel human compassion toward you.”
But at that, he finally stopped walking.
Had his anger cooled down a little? Hoping for that possibility, I cautiously looked up—and froze, my breath caught in my throat.
The air felt as if it had dropped below freezing. When I came to my senses, his blood-red eyes—filled with fury—were glaring icily at me.
“Compassion, huh.”
I’d crossed a line.
His expression said it all. That’s when I was hit with the realization again—I’m Lemoni. I exhaled the breath I’d been holding in. What I said came from a reader’s perspective, but from Deon’s point of view, hearing such words from a prison guard who had tormented him for five years… it must have sounded like mockery.
“I—I just meant we should quietly head to the control tower…”
I swallowed hard and forced my voice to stay steady.
“…I’m sorry.”
It was a stupid thing to say. As long as I was possessed by Lemoni, there was no emotion I could exchange with that man—only hatred and contempt.
Clenching my lower lip, I stared down at the unnecessarily luxurious carpet—until a low voice echoed right beside my ear, making goosebumps crawl down my spine.
“You understand well.”
I could feel his presence lean closer. The oppressive energy radiating from his strong frame made me squeeze my eyes shut. Then, I heard the sound of shackles clinking from my right hand.
“If you get it, then move.”
First floor. Second floor. Third floor.
Amid the suffocating silence, only our footsteps echoed awkwardly. Though I’d been shriveling under his sharp gaze at first, I found myself feeling strangely lighter with each flight of stairs we ascended.
If we made it to the control tower—maybe—I could escape from Deon.
“…Should I open it?”
And now, we’d arrived on the fourth floor.
Standing in front of the control tower office, I carefully asked for permission.
The double doors, securely locked with steel, had the words Control Tower written in the common language of the Lismold Continent. Perhaps because I’d possessed Lemoni, the letters came naturally to me.
It seemed she was fluent in both the imperial and common language, and that knowledge had transferred to me.
Surprisingly, Deon—still staring blankly at the room—gave a faint nod.
Good.
If I could just open this door, I’d finally meet people who would sympathize with and protect me. A nervous thrill gripped my gut at the thought of meeting strangers. Heart pounding, I knocked softly and slowly opened the door.
The first thing I saw was a man’s arm, grotesquely bent.
…The prison staff were dead.
* * *
When people are too shocked, their brains shut down.
At first, I thought the door was just heavy because it was made of thick iron. But the moment I finally pushed it open, I realized the true cause of the resistance.
Wedged in the gap of the creaking door was a man’s arm—twisted at an unnatural angle. White bone jutted out from the torn flesh around the elbow. When I realized it was the bone, my entire body went stiff.
Taking a few steps forward, I entered the room far enough for the door to close behind me. My eyes scanned the surroundings with a vacant gaze.
Over there—a woman with a broken neck.
Over here—a man with his legs chewed off.
On the couch’s armrest—a genderless corpse drooping like an octopus.
What they all had in common was that they’d tried to resist—with weapons.
Amidst the storm-like wreckage, guns and long swords lay abandoned, their owners gone.
Thankfully, neither Day nor Chief Yvonne were among the dead, but aside from Deon and me, no one else was alive here.
And blood. Splattered like a bucket of red paint had been thrown across the floor, spreading out in web-like streaks.
“They’ve already been wiped out.”
Deon’s emotionless remark broke the silence. With an indifferent gaze, he confirmed the dead, then casually rummaged through a cabinet.
But I wasn’t watching him anymore.
My gaze had drifted—toward the back door, stained with blood. The trail of crimson started at the doorknob and continued across the floor, as if some giant orc had dragged someone by the leg.
My heart pounded wildly.
Logic rejected the scene, but my trembling body had already been seized by fear.
“No, no…”
It wasn’t over yet. Day and Yvonne weren’t here.
“Come with me.”
It felt like I was possessed. I had to check—had to make sure there was still a shred of hope in this hell. Grabbing the shackle without permission, I tugged Deon along. Surprisingly, he followed without resistance, still holding something he’d picked up from the drawer.
Not caring, I opened the blood-stained door.
According to the original novel, this area had three rooms. One was the lounge we just came from. The second—Yvonne’s personal office, acting as the A-Wing’s control tower. The third—a secret emergency passage leading straight from the fourth floor to the first.
“Yvonne’s body isn’t here. That means not everyone’s dead.”
I had to hypnotize myself.
There’s still a chance. Still a place for me to survive. This terror wouldn’t last forever.
“Lemoni! Lemoni?”
“Y-Yvonne…?”
But when I opened the door, I found Yvonne—completely pale.
“Thank god. You’re from the seventh floor? Where are the others? The others?!”
She grabbed my shoulders, her hands trembling uncontrollably.
“What are you talking about? You told me to come to the fourth floor—”
“So that means the others are all dead?!”
Her eyes screamed terror as she clutched me and shouted. Then her gaze flicked over my shoulder—she had seen the corpses.
Snapping back to her senses, she suddenly grabbed my hand and started walking.
“If we leave now, we can survive.”
“What?”
“This prison is insane! Neither inmates nor guards can survive here. L-Lemoni, we have to escape. If we go where the prisoners are, they’ll…”
“Yvonne?”
But then—
“Yvonne.”
Her pupils suddenly narrowed into thin slits.
“…Yvonne…”
Something was wrong. I shoved her off me and stepped back, only to bump into Deon’s solid torso behind me.
“K-Krgh… Kraack… She’s gone mad…”
He neither pushed me away nor protected me—just stood there, watching Yvonne lose her mind.
Soon, her distorted pupils rolled back. Her right arm bent unnaturally, her legs twisted into an X shape, and she collapsed like a puppet with cut strings.
Only then did Deon nudge me aside and step forward, casually nudging Yvonne’s corpse with his foot.
“All dead.”
His slow nod turned toward me. That towering man—over 190cm—wasn’t talking to himself. He was talking to me.
* * *
They’re all dead. Ah… they’re all dead.
“Kinda disappointing. I wanted to see what kind of person you’d become if you reunited with your comrades. Would you revert to the crazed wretch? Or start submitting to me?”
I was the only survivor among the corpses. The plot had changed. Probably because of me.
“…Would you turn back into that lunatic, or learn to behave around me?”
As he approached, he let out a faint snicker. Apparently liking the dazed expression on my face, Deon stared at me for a while, then tossed something into his mouth. I could hear the sound of him gulping a liquid, but that wasn’t the issue.
“Come on, officer. Issue one of your damn commands.”
Everyone but me was dead.
“Hurry. Maybe I’ll follow it like a good dog.”
They were all gone. Now it was just my turn to die.
“Come on.”
His chilling voice faded like mist. My heart dropped to my feet.
My fingers and toes were freezing—blood refusing to circulate. The overwhelming fear of death began to consume me.
“…Damn it. After everything… After all I went through to get here…”
Suddenly, my vision dimmed. I felt the large man approaching, but the loneliness and fear of being the sole survivor paralyzed me—like falling from a great height.
How long could I survive like this?
How long could I stay alive with a prisoner who hates and despises me? And if I do survive, then what? Escape? And then what? Reach the Empire? And what if Deon keeps chasing me?
Then it hit me.
Wait… Lemoni has congenital insensitivity to pain.
A whisper of temptation stirred in my mind, and faint light returned to my dazed eyes.
Right. Dying might be better.
If I died, maybe I’d return to my original body. Even if I didn’t and just ceased to exist… it’s not like I had anyone to miss. Perhaps this was a blessing in disguise.
“Lemoni.”
Then, someone grabbed my limp wrist roughly.
“Any last words—”
“Kill me, Deon.”
He froze mid-motion, having just wiped some unknown liquid from his lips.
“…What?”
As he stared blankly at me, I twisted my lips into a smile. This was it. This would end everything.
“Kill me, Deon.”
Piiiii—
The whistle I blew with my last ounce of strength brought an unimaginable force to my neck.
As my face was crushed under his grip, I closed my eyes—satisfied.
A peaceful blackout.
