The guard kicked the door open and tossed Joe into the room. He hit the floor hard and rubbed his back. “That hurts.”

  “Remove your clothes and put on one of those grey overalls,” the guard ordered before slamming the door shut. He remained outside, arms crossed, watching through the wide window with a scrutinizing gaze.

  Joe pushed himself up and looked around. The room contained nothing but neatly stacked prison uniforms. He had never broken the law in his previous life, so this was new territory. The only time he had ever stepped into a police station was to accompany his friend who went to report her missing dog. He still could not remember her name, and that bothered him more than he liked to admit. Whenever he tried to recall it, a sharp migraine followed.

  “Dammit.”

  The guard banged on the window, signaling him to hurry. Joe glanced at him and sighed inwardly. Why stand outside when the entire room was visible anyway?

  He turned away, grabbed a uniform, and stripped. The guard watched the entire time. Joe swallowed his embarrassment, put on the grey overalls, and stepped out. The guard searched him again, making sure he carried nothing.

  “What’s that?” the guard asked, eyeing the bracelet on Joe’s wrist.

  “It’s a present I received from the Guild Headmaster.”

  The guard’s hands trembled as he reached for it. “How did an Unawakened trash like you manage to get a gift from the Headmaster?”

  “I have my ways,” Joe replied with a grin.

  “Prisoners aren’t allowed to keep outside items. You’ll need to take it off.” The guard’s voice carried a trace of uncertainty.

  “I can’t. If I remove it, the bracelet will explode,” Joe said calmly. “Besides, do you really want to tamper with something that belongs to the Headmaster?”

  The guard’s eyes widened. He quickly pulled his hands back. “I suppose we can make an exception.”

  Joe’s grin widened.

  The guard reached for his waist pouch and retrieved a metal band. Faint inscriptions glowed along its surface. The band expanded several times its original size, reshaping into a collar. He secured it around Joe’s neck and gestured for him to follow.

  Joe walked a few steps behind, fingers brushing the collar around his throat. “What does this do?”

  “It’s a suppression collar. It disrupts mana circulation and carries enchantments to prevent disobedience. For example, this.”

  He snapped his fingers. A surge of lightning shot through Joe’s body. Compared to the Golem’s blows and the Goddess’s strikes, it was insignificant. It felt like a mild pinch.

  The guard glanced at him in surprise. Joe quickly clutched his neck and forced a grimace. “Ouch. That hurts.”

  The guard studied him for a moment, then looked forward and continued walking.

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  Joe wondered.

  They climbed the stairs. “Watch your step,” the guard said. “We wouldn’t want you breaking the Headmaster’s present.”

  Joe was not sure whether the guard feared Trogard or simply wanted to avoid a possible explosion. Likely both. The shift in attitude after learning about the bracelet was obvious. He doubted a simple fall would break it. That would make it no different from carrying a ticking time bomb, and he did not believe Trogard would want him dead before their agreement ended. Still, he could not rule anything out when it came to that old man. He watched his steps carefully.

  At the top, the guard opened a door and nodded to another guard seated nearby. They walked through a hallway lined with cells. Most held at least four prisoners. When they reached the last cell on the right, the guard opened it and shoved Joe inside.

  “This is your new home. Get comfortable.”

  Joe sensed hesitation before the shove. It felt performative, likely meant to project authority in front of the inmates. Joe decided to play along and staggered slightly.

  Inside were only two prisoners, which surprised him given the crowding in the other cells.

  He kept his head down and walked to the nearest wall, then sat. One of the prisoners approached and sat beside him.

  “What’s up, man? My name is Bob.”

  Joe looked at him. He was a few years older, skinny, bald, with a small mustache.

  “I’m Joe.”

  “What brings you here?”

  “Damaged property. You?”

  “Damaged property huh? That's also one of my charges. What else did you do?”

  “That’s it.”

  “Really? Just damaged property? You’ll be out in a few months.”

  Joe gave a faint smile. In reality, he would only be here a few days. He wondered how Bob would react if he said that.

  “Hey,” Bob said, forcing eye contact. “You’ll need someone to watch your back. Why don’t we be buddies?”

  Joe’s eyes widened slightly. Someone offering friendship was rare for him. His heart skipped despite himself.

  “Sure.”

  They shook hands.

  Moments later, the cell door creaked open. A chubby man walked in, holding hands with a petite girl who had long black hair and purple eyes.

  “That’s Big Dog. The girl is Shelly. They’re the king and queen of this cell,” Bob whispered with reverence.

  Joe glanced around. “Who’s that?”

  An old man sat alone, bare-chested, drawing in the dust with his finger. A braided beard hung from his chin as he laughed quietly to himself.

  “No one knows his real name. Everyone calls him Psycho. He doesn’t like it when people say it, but he’s mentally unwell.”

  “What did he do?”

  “No idea. He’s been here at least a decade.”

  “I see.”

  Big Dog sat against the wall and immediately locked eyes with Joe. He motioned with a finger.

  Joe walked over and stopped a meter away.

  “Introduce yourself,” Big Dog ordered.

  “I’m Jo—”

  “What are you doing?” Big Dog cut him off. “Who do you think you’re talking to? You speak to me while standing?” He pointed at the ground. “Kneel.”

  “N—”

  Before Joe could finish, a hand forced him down. Bob pressed his palm against Joe’s skull, pushing him to his knees.

  “Forgive him, Big Dog. He’s new. His name is Joe. Damaged property,” Bob said with a trembling smile.

  ‘Why is he so terrified of this weakling?’ Joe wondered.

  “Damaged property?” Big Dog scoffed. “Weak.” He glanced at Bob. “I’ll let it slide. Teach your bitch some manners. Next time I won’t be so forgiving.”

  “Thank you, Big Dog,” Bob said, bowing his head.

  He dragged Joe back to the wall.

  “Do you want to die?” Bob whispered harshly. “No one speaks to Big Dog while standing. You kneel. You show respect to your king. He doesn’t tolerate disrespect.”

  Joe said nothing.

  Soon after, a guard entered and placed five bowls of bread and soup on the floor. “Dinner. No fighting.” He left and locked the cell.

  No one moved.

  Confused, Joe started to stand, but Bob yanked him down by the sleeve. “What are you doing? Stay down if you don’t want to die.”

  A minute later, Big Dog tapped Shelly’s shoulder and glanced at the bowls. She stood immediately, collected them, and placed all five in front of him. She returned to his side and sat silently.

  Big Dog devoured four bowls completely. From the fifth, he left half the bread and soup. He handed it to Shelly. She accepted it gratefully and ate the remains.

  Joe stared in disbelief and turned to Bob.

  “This is how it works here,” Bob said quietly. “This isn’t the outside world. In here, you follow the king’s rules. You’d better get used to it. This is prison life.”

  Joe exhaled slowly.