Episode 13
I was completely engrossed in reading the newspaper when I heard the confident thud of boots. Moments later, the iron door to the cell swung open with a loud clang.
Without so much as calling my name, the man who entered the cell was Kyle Caseins—the same Kyle I had assaulted with salt.
I instinctively backed away, but there was nowhere to run in this confined cell.
Even limping on one leg, Kyle closed the distance with overwhelming presence. I kept retreating until my back hit the wall.
“Where is it.”
“W-What?”
Beneath his damp bangs, the area around his eyes was flushed red with irritation.
Kyle wiped his wet face with his black shirt, not even trying to be tidy. His abs, revealed beneath the lifted fabric, were sharply defined like dinner rolls.
Raising his bloodshot gaze again, Kyle repeated his question.
“What you threw at me.”
“…Salt?”
“So it was salt.”
Without hesitation, Kyle averted his eyes and began ransacking the cell. His merciless hands tore through my blankets and clothes, turning the tiny room into chaos.
I yanked him back angrily.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Kyle, who had finally found the container of white powder, held up the salt and replied calmly:
“This is being confiscated.”
“What?!”
“No more salt for you.”
“…Ha!”
A hollow laugh escaped me.
So now I wasn’t allowed to season my food or even brush my teeth?
I pointed out the obvious truth.
“People can’t live without salt.”
But Kyle operated well outside the bounds of common sense. He raised the salt container high above his head, dodging my hands. No matter how much I jumped, I couldn’t reach—his arms were simply longer.
“You should’ve been prepared for this when you threw it at me.”
“Stop talking nonsense and give it back!”
“If you act out one more time, I’ll flip you over and spank you.”
He whispered the threat into my ear while holding my waist, then casually left the cell as I stood there dumbfounded.
I stared helplessly at Kyle’s retreating back, clutching the salt container, and muttered:
“…My salt…”
Richard silently watched Kyle walk away, his expression cold.
He had known Kyle Caseynis’s name long before arriving at Fortress Prison. As a noble on the opposing side of the Crown Prince’s faction, it would’ve been stranger not to know him.
Kyle also noticed Richard as he passed, sparing him a brief glance. But unlike how he looked at Veronica, his gaze held no warmth.
Kyle’s cold stare as he passed conveyed both caution and warning.
Maybe Veronica didn’t realize it, but Richard did.
That was the look a man gives a rival.
The way Kyle looked at Veronica wasn’t just anyone looking at someone. It was the way a man looked at a woman.
Even after Kyle disappeared, Richard stood there, staring in the direction he’d gone, his thoughts a tangled mess.
As Veronica picked up the scattered items and straightened the mess, she hesitantly spoke.
“Um… I’m sorry.”
She clung to the cell bars, looking downcast.
“Sorry about what?”
Without a word, Veronica held out the newspaper.
Upon closer inspection, there was a big boot print stamped right on the page. During Kyle’s search, the paper must’ve fallen to the floor and been stepped on.
Veronica had likely tried to smooth out the creases and dirt, but it was impossible to return it to its original condition. She handed it back through the bars, looking genuinely sorry.
“It’s fine. But…”
Richard accepted the paper and hesitated. She seemed completely unaware of Kyle’s true intentions. Should he tell her?
But he had no idea how she would react. Would she beg Kyle to help her escape like she had begged the warden? Or worse…
Imagining her reaction, Richard frowned and shook his head.
No—better not to say anything. Let her stay unaware.
She would be leaving this place soon anyway.
“But what?”
Veronica tilted her head at his unfinished sentence. Richard, on impulse, gave her permission without much thought.
“Call me Richard, not ‘you’ or ‘hey.’”
I listlessly poked at the food on my plate.
Ever since Kyle confiscated my salt, I’d been eating flavorless food every single day. Eating bland meals one after another made life feel completely devoid of joy.
Sure, if you focus on the natural, subtle flavors of ingredients…
Ugh, I might throw up.
My appetite vanished. Boiled eggs felt stuck in my throat. Boiled potatoes were dry. Fried ones were greasy.
I’d come to realize just how many foods depended on salt for flavor. I craved something salty, sweet, spicy—anything stimulating.
When the sound of waves outside made me fantasize about drinking seawater, Kyle summoned me. It was time for yet another round of psychological torture.
He’s truly a born torturer. Who knew you could make someone suffer so much with just salt…
Dragged along by a guard, I shuffled wearily through the long hallway. Strangely, the guard brought me to the 4th floor—Kyle’s reception room.
I blinked in surprise.
I thought I’d never come back here after trying to kill Kyle last time…
The guard shoved me inside and shut the door. Just like déjà vu, the table was filled with luxurious dishes.
Kyle was standing by the far wall, arms crossed. He didn’t look like he planned to explain anything.
Instead of asking questions, I gave him a crooked smile.
“What? Want to get strangled again?”
“Hm, not really my kink.”
Kyle arrogantly jerked his chin toward the table.
“Eat.”
“No.”
I hated the way he pulled the chair out like a gentleman. But the way he gestured at the food like he was feeding a dog? That was even worse.
I stood my ground, facing off with him.
“If you don’t eat, I won’t let you leave. Unless you want to keep spending time with me.”
“Ha! And you expect me to just eat whatever you hand me? Who knows what you’ve done to it?”
“No hidden tricks… not yet.”
The fact that he himself wasn’t sure was hardly reassuring.
Seeing that I still refused to budge, Kyle approached the table, picked up a spoon, and took a bite of the soup.
I stared at the food disappearing between his lips. Gulp. He swallowed it.
After tasting a bit of everything in full view of me, Kyle set the spoon down.
“See? Nothing’s wrong with the food.”
I already knew that. I just didn’t trust anything he did.
Still, now that I was sure the food was safe, I took a seat as instructed. But—
“Why don’t I have any utensils?”
There were no spoons or forks at my place setting. I glanced around the table in confusion. Kyle casually lifted the spoon he’d just used.
“Oh, there’s only one.”
“……”
“Wanna use it?”
“…Forget it.”
So that was originally my spoon? There was no way I was going to use it after watching it go in and out of his mouth.
Luckily, there were plenty of finger foods. I resigned myself and decided to just eat with my hands.
It may wound my dignity a little…
I washed my fingers in the finger bowl and started with some meat on the bone.
“…!”
My eyes widened. The familiar sharp flavor exploded on my taste buds—salt! Salt!!
I dropped the meat and grabbed some bread. The crust was crisp, the inside soft, studded with coarse salt crystals.
I chewed with reverence and delight. Even licked the salt off my fingers. It was bliss.
But then—I felt someone staring at me.
When I finally became aware of the gaze, Kyle’s presence suddenly felt… suffocating.
“Why are you staring?”
“You’re eating well.”
Was he mocking me for eating so greedily? Or was he watching me like a proud pet owner?
Either way, it was unpleasant. I shot him a glare.
“Why are you staring at someone while they eat? It’s creepy.”
“You looked happy just a second ago. Why the sudden change?”
“Because you’re making me uncomfortable…”
But I didn’t get to finish.
Kyle suddenly walked around the table and approached me in long strides.
What now? I was about to ask when I heard his ominous murmur:
“Maybe delicious food is the answer…”
Why did that sound so ominous, even though the words were innocent? Instinct, probably. I’d dealt with Kyle enough to know.
He came up beside me, oil still glistening on my lips—and then he started doing something bizarre.
I frowned.
“…What are you doing?”
Kyle dumped a generous amount of salt and sugar into his palm, coating it in white powder. Then he held out the messy hand to me.
“Lick it.”
