I only realise there are more than three single rooms on this floor when I walk onto the corridor.

Directly in front of the stairs is an exit with a metal gate, and a one-way, straight as an arrow corridor branches out from it. Along the corridor, there are about ten metal doors, lined up in a row. It"s only wide enough for two people to pa.s.s while brus.h.i.+ng shoulders, so that"s why there aren"t any doors on the opposite side.

The place I"m staying in is the third detention room if you start counting from the entrance, and that neighbour of mine is in the second room. There"s the sound of a door closing from the first room, but no one shows up. The guard who came to lead us out peeks inside, and closes the window after about two seconds. The other guard just says jokingly, "He"s sleeping."

That means he"s not Lord von Voltaire, because he would never miss an opportunity to go out. Even if he was unconscious, normally he would wake up instantly if there was the slightest sound. Because everyone says an excellent warrior must have a constant sense of vigilance.

There are two guards in front of Mister Neighbour, and one more behind me. That"s why I had to give up on my plan to escape, find a way to mix in with the other criminals and find Gwendal, and finally return to Murata and the others.

Although we"re not completely outnumbered, my own attack power is only enough to take down one person. And that"s in the rare case I can hit a weak point like kicking their s.h.i.+ns. Looks like I"m rather lacking in offensive techniques concerning my fists. No matter what, even if I ran towards the backline with the looser security, I would still meet a dead end within thirty meters.

Rather than gambling on such a rash plan, it"s better to use this time for listening to my neighbour and gathering intel.

But when I look again at the solitary detention room with a ray of light s.h.i.+ning into it, I suddenly find it slightly scary. The s.p.a.ce inside is exactly the same as when there was no light, but once it becomes brighter inside, it looks completely different inside.

There is grafitti on the floor, the walls, even on the inside of the metal door, but what materials were used to draw those? And how? There are even dots and lines on the ceiling. Some places even have sketches of human faces, and those eyes stare wide open.

I hadn"t noticed when I first came in because my eyes were blindfolded. If I had seen how that wall looked like from the start, perhaps I would have desperately jammed the door open with my foot, and refused to come in no matter what.

Probably it"s because I was locked into this small stone room...

"They probably didn"t have anything better to do."

The neighbour, walking in front of me, chuckles at my stiff att.i.tude.

Speaking of that man, even though we met after we came out of our rooms, I still can"t tell what kind of a person he is. That hair looks brown, with traces of white. There are deep wrinkles on his forehead, around his mouth, and on his cheeks. On Earth, he would probably a forty-year-old who looks on the older side, but staying here for a long period of time should have an effect on one"s appearance. For all I know, his actual age is somewhat younger than what he looks.

From the color of his hair and eyes, as well as his slightly hunched stance, it"s true that I can"t tell if he"s a mazoku or human. Although I wanted to guess from his reaction to a double black, when he sees my black hair, all he says in surprise is, "Oh my, you even purposely went to join the Black-Haired Cult?"

Looks like he doesn"t think my hair colour is natural.

Bur that man"s gaze is not like a normal person"s. It has nothing to do with being a mazoku or a human, but more like he said it, that"s the gaze of a soldier who survived the war. It"s different from the baker doing a stable business, a farmer harvesting vegetables—eyes with a sharp glint. If that sort of gaze is trained on you, your emotions will be in turbulence.

"Why do I feel like..."

Logically speaking, there"s no way we met before. After all, this is my first time in Darco, and that man did say that he"s been in this prison since before I was born. But I can"t help but feel he"s a lot like someone... No, I feel as though I"ve had a similar gaze trained on me.

The guards take us to the upper floors. From the blueprint in my head, this should be bas.e.m.e.nt one. The air here is warmer than bas.e.m.e.nt two, and it"s brighter too.

We walk past a metal grate, and into a s.p.a.cious room with a table in the dead centre. No, if it was just a table, that would still be okay, but there are about ten men sitting around us. When we arrive, the last of the pack, everyone turns around to look our way at once. It"s a scene that makes you want to turn right and exit.

The table and chairs there look a lot like the ones in the meeting room from four hours ago, but the difference here is that all the furniture is nailed to the floor.

Maybe they"re trying to prevent the convicts from picking them up and tossing them around, but would anyone really be able to lift such~~ a big table... With that in mind, I take a look around the people present, and realize that a few of them really do look like the type who would throw around furniture if they got agitated.

The people here don"t look like the cheerful, calm, chess-playing ones from the prison paradise... from the prison that is so cheery I really feel it"s a paradise. Using an animal simile, they"re like great white sharks, grizzly bears, crocodiles, snapping turtles—all of Earth"s most brutal animals.

And all of them have are expressionless, or look totally put-out from being betrayed by their trusted followers. The atmosphere here is already at tipping point.

"Wh-where did they come from?"

"They are those who committed serious crimes, or ones who couldn"t adapt to community life. Either they killed without reason, or they would still riot and harm other prisoners or attack guards if they were put in normal cells."

The number of guards in this room seem to prove what my neighbour is saying. There are twice as many armed soldiers, holding batons or swords, as there are the ten or so convicts in here.

The even more animal-like convicts don"t seem to think anything of the row of soldiers by the wall. They don"t even look intimidated at all despite being under constant surveillance. Putting their legs on the table boldly, they cross their log-like arms in front of their chests, and occasionally make sounds like middle-aged uncles do when they clean their teeth after a meal.

No matter how you look at it, I"m completely out of place here.

"Should I spit?"

"There"s no need to run away. As long as the guards are here, they won"t try anything funny."

Speaking of not fitting in, my neighbour is just a bit out of place too. Although he was detained in solitary confinement, his aura isn"t the same as these guys. Even if he was holding a sword, you wouldn"t think he was dangerous. After I told him that, I saw him smile for the first time.

"To be honest, even if you gave me a sword, it wouldn"t be that useful."

As soon as he narrows his eyes, his sharp gaze instantly becomes very gentle.

When we sit on the empty places, a few convicts impatiently look away. There are about five enemies left, but my spine still feels rather chilly. When I came across the same situation in the past, at least I still had Murata with me, and Lady Flynn, who was a leader of strong men. Right now, all I have is the neighbour I just met, and whom I know nothing about. I"d be lying if I said I wasn"t scared.

"The doctor isn"t here yet, Red Croc?"

My neighbour looks at one of the convicts and calls his name directly. I worry for him, but the other guy doesn"t seem upset.

"Apparently not."

"How are you feeling today, White Shark?"

"Not very good, a moth is flying circles around my head, it"s d.a.m.n annoying."

Of course, there isn"t really an insect flying around his head. But even if he looks like he"s in a bad mood, he"ll still greet others. Maybe he"s actually very friendly? Or could this be the art of getting closer to your neighbours?

"Speaking of which, Turtle, you really hate the "Black-Haired", don"t you?"

Next, my neighbour addresses the scariest-looking man, the one who has his legs on the table.

"That"s right, I detest them."

The man called Turtle glances at me. This is bad, his first impression of me is already terrible. But Turtle sounds like the nickname of a criminal. Then again, he is actually a criminal.

"In that case, you should know a lot about "Black-Haired", right? Could you tell us a bit?"

"I don"t wanna, why don"t you ask that brat next to you? On that note, where"d that brat come from? Why"d you bring him here? Didya just want to show him off to me, hah?"

My neighbour pats my back hard, almost knocking me out of my chair.

"Of course not. Don"t let his appearance deceive you, this little guy is a pretty mean character. He was taken here for fighting up there, and apparently he wanted to take a kid who had come visiting hostage, so he could escape."

"It wasn"t like that—"

The way he said it makes the crime of "being violent towards children" that had been slapped onto me from earlier even more serious. From the beginning to the end, all I did was get caught in the crosshairs, I didn"t do anything bad at all.

But Turtle"s expression changes as soon as he hears of my exploits, and he even grins at me. No, not just Turtle, even White Shark and Red Croc seem very interested in this topic of conversation.

"Holding a kid hostage!? That is pretty serious."

"Although serious, it"s a good idea too."

"But he didn"t hurt the kid, did he?"

Usually big baddies wouldn"t have concerns like that. My neighbour turns to him too and says solemnly,

"Of course, White Shark. Although he took a kid hostage, he never harmed the kid. We might be sc.u.m, but someone who hurts children is even worse, right?"

The five men all nod in relative agreement. It seems they"re a band of criminals who take morals seriously.

"This skinny brother here wanted to carry the kid and escape, but he was unfortunately caught in a group fight, and in the end he even protected the kid."

"Did you witness it at the time, Hawkeye?"

This time, my neighbour nods forcefully,

"Ahh, I saw it. You guys know how good my eyesight is in bright places. I did see it when I was in the middle of my morning exercises."

"Since Hawkeye says so, then it should be true."

"That"s right, since he said so."

What an exaggerated lie. How could the neighbour, detained in solitary confinement, have witnessed what happened to Gwendal and me? But even if it"s such a blatant lie, it still seems to have an effect on the convicts. Just the words "Hawkeye saw it" seems to be a guarantee of truth. Exactly what kind of a man is he?

Speaking of which, this is my first time hearing this man"s name.

Hawkeye—It probably isn"t his real name, but it"s still better than not knowing what to call him. I see, no wonder the look in his eyes can really look like a beast sometimes.

"The reason this young man wanted to grab a hostage and escape also seems to be related to that religion. It seems he was only sent in here for being a "Black-Haired". So, Turtle, could you tell him a bit about those guys?"

"What"s your name, brat?"

Turtle bares his canines at me as he asks, looking remarkably like a snapping turtle. Although that terrifying appearance makes me worry if he"s bite my fingers off, that"s still no reason to miss out on a golden opportunity to collect intel.

"Ah, my name is Robinson."

"Is that so? You listen closely, Robinson. Those "Black-Haired" fellas are devotees of the "Until That Day Comes Cult". In fact, not all of them have black hair. Some don"t even have any hair at all."

That second part is new news to me. I write a memo on my left brain, saying, "Some are also "Black-Balds"."

"If you ask why those guys want to dye their hair black, it"s because they firmly believe that black hair possesses power."

"Black hair has power?"

"That"s right. You listen closely, Robinson. One day, a mysterious box suddenly fell down from G.o.d knows where, and there were a few strands of black hair on it, so those guys dye their hair black. Just for that mysterious box with unknown origins? Unbelievable, huh?"

"Yeah, really unbelievable..."

Even if the ferocious-looking man keeps on pressing towards me, I can"t stop thinking about what I don"t want to see happen. What mysterious box that fell down suddenly? That"s a topic I don"t want to hear about for now.

"Maybe it"s because it"s too unbelievable that it becomes impressive instead. That"s why those guys emulate the black hair on the box, and dye their hair black. Plus, Hawkeye said something even more shocking."

"What did you say?"

With his eyes facing forward, Hawkeye smiles, as though looking in the distance, unimpeded by walls,

"Ahh, I said that black only appears on someone like a king or equivalent status. It"s the color of immense power."

His gaze looks into the sky, as though seeing a faraway homeland.

"It seems so. You listen carefully, Robinson. Thats why a lot of criminal groups became "Black-Haired"."

"Mn, my cellmate is also a "Black-Haired". He wanted to dye my hair black too, so I beat him up, and I even cracked the wall."

Red Croc says, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He even cracked the wall, what kind of crazy power is that! And thank goodness he resisted desperately now, that"s why even his bears is still red to this day.

"Under the Warden"s suggestions, all of them, young or old, male or female, dyed their hair black. What do you think? Understand now, Robinson? That"s why I hate "Black-Haired". They only even obediently follow what that woman says, making themselves into people whose li-li-li..."

Bruce Lee[1]?

"Life way has been turned on its head and yet, they don"t have a sense of self at all. That"s why I hate "Black-Haired"."

I want to confirm what "life way" is short for in this world. But more importantly, I had gotten even more crucial information in that moment.

One, that a mysterious box descended into this prison.

Two, Hawkeye knows that mazoku wors.h.i.+p the color black.

After more detailed questions, I discovered: Three, the representative of the "Until That Day Comes Cult" is the warden, Ranatan.