Chapter 1247

The Imperial Security Force's temporary detention facility. It was a place for those awaiting trial—or for those who had committed crimes so minor they didn’t even warrant one—to be held for a short time. Kiole had known that much in theory, but it was his first time stepping inside.

And that place... It was, quite literally, a gathering ground for the last kinds of people he ever wanted to be near.

“I swear, when I get outta here, I’ll kill every last one of you bastards!”

One man yelled while rattling the bars of his cell.

“Come on, I was a little drunk and made a mistake. That’s no reason to lock a man up like this!”

Another man cursed while reeking of rotten liquor.

“Do you even know who I am?! How dare you imprison me! Have you heard of the ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) Rothschild Trading Company, you dogs?!”

A man with his hands bound barked arrogantly toward the guards bustling outside the narrow cell.

There were people curled up like corpses. Others lying flat with their bellies exposed, snoring. Some sobbing as if the world had ended. Some shouting, picking fights, and throwing punches while rolling on the floor.

All of them crammed into a space barely large enough for twenty grown men to sit, let alone breathe. It was dizzying, chaotic—utterly miserable. In a way, it was even worse than the time he’d nearly died in that kidnapping in the Eastern cave. At least then, the silence had been so complete he could hear a single ant crawling, and he’d been rescued by Yuder Aile within a few hours—never enough time for such overwhelming despair to settle in.

Just thinking of Yuder finally jolted Kiole’s frozen mind into barely creaking movement.

‘R-Right. The reason I suddenly got thrown in here... Wasn’t it that bastard’s doing?!’

He had asked if Kiole wanted to know the truth and said he’d send a way to help him. And now, out of nowhere, he’d been kicked out of his lodging and locked up in detention. It would be weirder not to think the two were related!

But before Kiole could think further, a guard came and dragged him out.

“Move.”

Still wearing cheap, magic-suppressing cuffs, Kiole was forcibly led into an interrogation room.

“Let’s see... Charges filed: dining and lodging without payment...”

The low-ranking official, face sunken from fatigue, didn’t even look at Kiole as he flipped through the report, mumbling.

“No means of verifying identity... Displayed suspicious behavior throughout the hotel, made other guests uncomfortable... Attempted to skip out on a debt totaling 23 gold coins? Tsk...”

“Hey! I’m not some shady vagrant! Who says I have no way to prove who I am?! I left my belongings at the hotel!”

“The report says there was nothing but a few changes of clothes.”

“What?! That’s impossible!”

Kiole shouted, demanding they retrieve his belongings—but the official didn’t budge. His tired face twisted with annoyance.

“You think the Security Force is your personal servant? You should’ve brought those things yourself before getting dragged in. That’s not our job.”

“Ugh...! Then at least give me paper and a pen! Let me send a letter and I can have as much money brought in as you like!”

Kiole yelled, voice shaking with anger. For the first time, the official lifted his gaze to look at him directly.

“You got money to pay for paper and a courier?”

“...What? That’s not something you’re supposed to charge for! If you want to get paid, obviously you should—!”

At that, the official stared at him silently for a moment... and then burst out laughing. A clear, unmistakable sneer.

‘...He’s laughing? Why...?’

“Ah. I see now—you must be some fancy little nobleman’s brat, huh?”

“Th-That’s right! Finally, some sense in this conversation!”

The situation made it hard to blurt out House Diarca’s name right away, but Kiole was a young master from a great family. Puffing out his chest, he answered proudly—but the official’s eyes still held that unpleasant glint of mockery.

“Then where exactly are you trying to send this message?”

Kiole began turning over options in his head. House Diarca... If he contacted them officially, it might reach his eldest brother first, which was risky. Better to delay that. In that case...

“The Imperial Guard—or the Cavalry!”

He blurted out both names, though the two groups shared the same grounds yet loathed each other. The official’s eyes grew even more half-lidded, but Kiole didn’t notice.

“If not them, then the Imperial Palace! More specifically, send it to the Sun Palace!”

The official slowly nodded. Kiole took it as a sign that he was finally getting through.

But what came out of the official’s mouth shattered that completely.

“You’re absolutely out of your mind.”

“Wha... What?!”

“There’s always one, about once a month. Some lunatic who thinks they’re a noble and causes trouble. No need for further investigation. Take him away.”

SCREEECH, SLAM.

The door to the interrogation room shut right in front of his face.

‘W-What? What the hell is happening...?!’

Kiole thrashed wildly as the guards grabbed him, shouting.

“Wait! Let me send a message! Do you even know who I am?! I’m a direct heir of House Diarca and a knight of the Imperial Guard!”

He dropped the pretense of secrecy. Right now, getting out came first.

“Did you not hear me?! My father is the Duke of Diarca! I hold a Level-3 Lily Seal and have the right to meet Commander Theorado van Ta-in of the Imperial Guard at any time! You dare do this to me—!”

“Damn brat’s a fighter, huh.”

One of the guards nearly lost his grip as Kiole writhed, then clicked his tongue—and suddenly smacked the back of Kiole’s head.

“Gah!”

“Young as you are, why’re you so crazy already? Go find a puddle, take a look at yourself, and wake the hell up. ‘Noble,’ my ass. Say that again once you see your sorry face.”

W-What the hell did he just say?

As his mind scrambled to make sense of the words, the guards shoved Kiole back into the cell. He collapsed in a heap, groaning, and slowly lifted his head.

There, at the guard’s waist—on the metal ornament capping the end of his scabbard—he saw a tiny reflection of himself.

A man lying flat on the floor in cuffs. Ashy gray hair like filthy water. Plain light brown eyes. Features that had once never been called unattractive had dulled, his impression now blurred and forgettable—nothing like the image of a noble youth.

“What... the hell.”

That’s... me?

As his lips parted slowly, the man in the reflection parted his lips too. Horror overtook Kiole and he screamed.

“AAAAAAGH!”

“Shut up!”

A flying object hit him square in the forehead. The world spun.

Kiole fainted on the spot.

—

Who knew how much time had passed? He only woke again when a guard kicked him hard in the side.

“How long you planning to lie there? Think this place is your house?”

Still unable to grasp the situation, Kiole blinked and looked around as several guards entered the cell.

“All of you, get out!”

“Tch, shit...”

The other prisoners, cuffed like Kiole, muttered curses as they lined up outside.

“You’re all low-tier offenders who don’t even need trials. No need to waste time—we’re sending you straight to labor duty. The length of your sentence will depend on the severity of your crime. And if you cause trouble again before it’s served out, you’ll be hanged.”

Labor?

Kiole blinked, dumbstruck, as the guards split the prisoners into groups and led them away. He was loaded into a black prison cart along with three other men. He wanted to shout something—but the others were so dead silent, as if resigned, that he couldn’t bring himself to speak.

And so, packed like cargo into a carriage with no view of the outside, they were driven away until the cart stopped and they disembarked.

“This is where you’ll work.”

Kiole stared blankly at his surroundings. It was a familiar scene.

‘This is...’

It was near the Fourth Wall Lake in the capital—he had just been here not long ago. The same place where everything had gone wrong after he came to meet his father on a walk and ended up attacked by a murderer.

“A recent incident damaged the land, trees, and houses around the lake. You’ll assist in restoration efforts day and night. If you slack off or try to run, you’ll be severely punished. Consider yourselves warned.”

With that threat, the soldier brought over someone else. A young man who, judging by his expression and attitude, had been assigned to supervise and instruct the prisoners.

“My name’s Bran. Handle yourselves.”

Kiole thought he’d seen that face somewhere before. But no matter how hard he strained his memory, he couldn’t recall.

‘Where... Where have I seen him?’

“What are you staring at?”

Bran’s eyes narrowed as he glared. Kiole flinched and turned his head away. And in that moment, a wave of despair and the urge to cry washed over him.

‘Damn it! Why the hell am I doing this?!’

I should never have trusted that freak from the Cavalry!

Yuder Aile!!!!...

Unable to scream, his desperate cry echoed silently inside—

Thus began Kiole la Diarca’s sentence of forced labor.