Obsession... What's That? I Just Wish Someone Would Help Me Escape - Chapter 26
“Gah!”
Struck in the solar plexus by Clara’s straight punch, Number 30’s body flew, knocking over tables and chairs.
“Apologies first.”
Clara twisted her neck, making a cracking sound, spat, and then sat back down.
“Wow, that’s quite a punch.”
Johann, who was sitting across from her, biting into a potato, sounded impressed.
“What are you doing? Get on with your tasks! It’s almost time for labor!”
Leah, Number 20, shouted an order, causing the murmuring lower-ranked prisoners to quickly move the trays.
Jason, who had weakly pushed Number 38 with telekinesis, approached me with a disappointed face and whispered.
“Is this childish stunt really your revenge on Number 30? You tricked me, didn’t you?”
“Do I need to spell everything out for you?”
I stood up, patted Jason on the shoulder, and said.
“Negative perceptions and relationship dynamics often start from childish and trivial incidents, especially in such a closed group. Stop whining and just follow along.”
Jason reluctantly nodded his head.
After breakfast, during the grueling hours of labor, Number 30 had his subordinates beat up Number 38.
Number 30 grimaced in pain with every breath.
It seemed like his ribs might have cracked from Clara’s hit.
“Because you tripped there… Do you know what I had to endure? Ugh.”
“I’m sorry, so sorry!”
After venting his frustration, Number 30 and his subordinates left.
I walked past Number 38, who was beaten and collapsed in a corner, and muttered softly.
“Number 30 plans to get back at Number 7.”
“Guh… What?”
I stopped and continued looking straight ahead.
“He ordered the tampering of Number 7’s prison uniform with chemicals. It’s a childish revenge, really. Looks like you and I will end up taking the blame for this.”
I showed a sympathetic expression, trying to foster a sense of camaraderie.
Struggling to stand with a bruised face, Number 38 gritted his teeth.
“That bastard from a lowly family, he was nothing before…”
Seems like he had a higher social standing than Number 30 before. I helped him up, fueling his anger.
“Number 37 was in the laundry room yesterday, laughing about your situation.”
Human relationships are fragile, often crumbling over trivial issues.
A casual ‘Doesn’t it seem like they’re disregarding you?’ can plant a seed, which might sprout from otherwise insignificant actions and become perceived as truth.
“Huh? Jason? That guy worked under me until just before this? That must be why he looks at me strangely.”
He looked utterly furious.
I share your frustration with this reality.
But what can we do? I need to quickly secure a favorable position.
“Yesterday, Number 37 got a burn on his finger from handling the bleaching chemicals. You understand what that means, right?”
Number 38 looked at me, expressionless, then cracked a sly smile, signaling his agreement with my plan.
As time passed and the grueling labor ended, I dragged my exhausted body back to the prison.
The 40s, who were responsible for chores and errands, had to quickly deliver clothes for the upper inmates to change into.
“Oh no… none of the laundry is done.”
The leader of the 40s looked pale as he turned to me while looking at the laundry soaked in water.
It was because he had discovered that Clara’s prison uniform had been badly damaged.
“What is this, are you out of your mind? Of all things, Number 7’s uniform! How are you going to pay for this?”
“It was what Number 30 made me do.”
My firm statement shut the 40s’ leader up.
He must have seen the incident where Number 30 was sent flying by Clara’s fierce punch.
He would understand it as an attempt to use a lower inmate for revenge.
“If you don’t want to be implicated as an accomplice, keep your mouth shut and pretend you don’t know anything going forward.”
My ominous voice left the 40s leader unable to act, and he hurriedly instructed the other inmates to finish up the rest of the laundry.
“If this backfires on me, you know you’ll end up in a bad spot.”
The leader of the 40s pushed my shoulder and rolled up his sleeves, then remembering the risk of infection, he quickly washed his hands.
“I can’t even hit that thing! Just get lost!”
I casually turned away, hands in my pockets.
* * *
An hour later, a terrifying assembly order from Clara came through.
