One month. Four weeks. Thirty days.
Today marks the third day since I entered this body and this hellish place. That meant I had wasted three days to get around. According to Prince Nikolai, I only had twenty-seven days left before the execution occured.
In these twenty-seven days, I must come up with a plan to escape from here. A jailbreak.
Overall, the time I have to prepare is considerably great. However, the main problem I'm facing is the lack of resources and allies.
Sure enough, after this morning's meeting, Prince Nikolai demonstrated that he is my ally and could support me with resources… But that wasn't enough; after all, they are outsiders, and I can't rely on them too much. Who knows when they will come back?
Therefore, I must act first. I need allies for this jailbreak plan, and those allies should be the other prisoners. Especially those who also want to escape this hellish place just like me.
Fortunately for me, I had found someone right in this cell, a person who likely could be called my ally even before meeting Prince Nikolai.
However… There is one little problem with this person…
Isaak leaned against the cold wall of the cell, the damp stone pressing against his back. He sighed, watching the old man crouched on the ground, his eyes glued to a parade of ants running across the floor.
"Come on! Anty! Run to the finish line!" Frode shouted, waving his hands like a crazy man.
Isaak blinked at him, deadpan.
I'm definetly losing my mind… He thought.
The old man seemed unaware of Isaak's expression as he became lost in his own world of tiny creatures racing toward an invisible goal.
After a moment of silence, the young man let out a long sigh and opened his mouth. "…Who in their right mind watches those ants racing and shouts at them like it's some kind of horse race??" He questioned the old man with a disdainful voice.
Hearing this, Frode looked up to reply, his voice filled with boredom. "What? I'm bored."
Bored? Isaak couldn't understand how one could be so bored that they started betting on ant races. Well, sure, being in a cell with nothing else to do is really boring, but betting on ant races? That's a different kind of boredom.
"Argh… Nevermind…" He held his head as he felt like he just lost a brain cell.
Setting all of this aside, he needed Frode. He had discovered an unexpected ally right in this cell; he was the first one who ever treated him more humanely than the others. He was the first one to teach him what he should and shouldn't do, and he also teached him about the world.
He frowned, considering the decision. But could Frode truly be trusted? The old man had told him to trust no one, including himself. He had fled without a word when he encountered Mikhail. Who's to say he wouldn't backstab Isaak when he wasn't paying attention?
Honestly, I didn't really know his stories or much else about him, except for his name…
Isaak rubbed the back of his neck as he stared at the old man in front of him. Frode was watching the ants running around like stray dogs.
If I wanted to forge any sort of alliance, I guess I needed to know more about this crazy old man who shared the prison cell with me…
"Old man." Isaak called, leaning slightly forward.
Frode blinked, momentarily breaking his focus on the ground. "Huh?"
"If you're that bored." Isaak continued, his tone casual. "Mind sharing some stories about yourself? I'm bored too."
The old man's gaze drifted back to the floor as if he expected the ants to give him more entertainment than the conversation. After some seconds of not answering, he just shrugged. "My stories? Nothing too much, just made some wrong decisions in life and ended up in here."
Isaak raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. Wrong decisions? That could mean anything: he could made mistakes in a moment of weakness or choices that turned into chaos. But overall, Frode was just avoiding telling him anything.
"Nothing more than that?" Isaak pressed, his voice showing a bit of disdain. "That really wasn't a proper answer, you know?"
Frode shifted his gaze from the ant to Isaak, leaning against the wall with as scowl. Isaak could sensed unspoken regrets behind his eyes. "What do you want me to say? Like I wasn't always this way, huh?" He muttered.
The old man sighed, his breath heavy with the weight of memories. He turned his gaze toward the barred window, where jagged peaks loomed in the distance, their icy tips pointed deep into the shady clouds.
"Everyone here has a story." He said, voice barely above a whisper.
"…"
"Some ended up in here for murder, while others might be here for something as minor as stealing a loaf of bread. There are even innocents among us. Shouldn't be too surprising, right? They're trapped here because they couldn't prove their innocence." His gaze shifted from the sky to the yard below, where executions of prisoners often take place.
Isaak looked at Frode, his expression slightly darkened. "Really? I thought this place only existed to punish the worst of the worst..."
"Who knows?" Frode replied, leaning his back against the wall. "What I said is just a guess, but I believe there will be some situations like that happened. After all, Moroznaya Bashnya is infamous for many things, one of which is its mercilessness."
"How cruel…" Isaak muttered, arms crossed over his chest.
"It isn't about being cruel or not." Frode replied. "In fact, none of it matters. Regardless of how your past looks or whether you are innocent, the main thing is that you are here, inside a prison, surrounded by high mountains. Waiting for your death to come, knowing that you can do nothing to prevent it."
Isaak regarded Frode for a moment before delivering a sarcastic remark. "You know, all this time you've just been beating around the bush, spouting nonsense to avoid talking about yourself, haven't you?
...You truly don't want to share your stories, old man?" Isaak's tone filled with disdain.
Frode shot him a look before letting out a small, mocking chuckle. "Well, what would it do anyways? We're stuck in here waiting for death, and listening to my stories won't change that fact."
"You know." Isaak said with a slight smirk. "I'm pretty sure you'll kick the bucket before I do. So why not share some tales from your long life before you go? It's not like you did anything so horrific, or did you?"
Frode's patience wore thin at Isaak's sarcastic tone. He flicked the young man on the forehead, annoyance igniting in his eyes.
"Kiddo, you really have no manners at all."
Isaak rubbed his forehead where he had just been struck. "Ow! What was that for?"
Frode sighed in disappointment, shaking his head. "You're being a rude brat when you should be showing me some understanding."
"Understanding what? A sob story?" Isaak waved dismissively. "How am I supposed to know if you don't share it with me?!"
The old man shifted his gaze back to the mountains outside and let out another sigh filled with unspoken words. "Dumbass, it's not about whether to share stories or not." he murmured. "It's about respecting someone's choice when either they want to tell you their stories or not."
"Respect?"
Frode leaned against the stone wall, legs crossed, his eyes distant as he glared at the bleak landscape outside.
"Everyone in here has their stories." He said, his voice low but steady. "No two are the same. Some stories may be tragic, some even worse. But you've got to learn that pressing someone for their story might just open old wounds they're not ready to show."
Isaak glanced at the floor as Frode's words sank in. Putting jokes aside, the old man was right; pushing for answers could bring up sorrows buried deep within someone's past.
He watched Frode as the old man gazed at the yard below, where executions often occurred. Many different people, with different lives and different stories, had died there.
It was easy to view Frode as a crazy old man, yet there was something profound about him that Isaak couldn't just ignore. The wisdom came from someone who had lived in this world their entire life.
"You know." Isaak began slowly, feeling a strange emotion in his chest, as if he understood more about the old man in front of him. "I get what you mean." He cleared his throat, struggling to find the right words without sounding foolish. "I respect your choice not to share your stories… if that's what you want."
"But…" Isaak hesitated, forcing himself to continue despite the shyness creeping into his voice. "If you ever want to tell me… I'd be ready to listen."
"…"
"…"
Silence fell between them as no one spoke, leaving only the chaotic sounds of prisoners and guards outside.
Holy corny.What the f#ck did I just spilled out of my mouth?! He screamed inside his mind. If there had been a hole right there, he would have thrown himself in and buried himself immediately, no hesitation.
The words surprised even him; he felt a cringe, yet at the same time, a sense of relaxation. There was something about recognizing that bond, however vulnerable, that made this hellish prison feel just a bit less suffocating.
After a moment of silence, Frode broke it with a chuckle, turning to face Isaak fully, a sarcastic smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Let me give you a piece of advice: don't drop the soap."
"Hm? But there is no soap around?"
"Then that's a lucky thing."
Isaak tilted his head in confusion but decide to put it aside anyway.
"But to be honest." Frode smirked as he continued. "Having someone care about this old man who's about to die is something rare for me."
Isaak leaned against the cold wall, crossing his arms, trying to brush off Frode's words. He couldn't let himself get wrapped up in whatever the old man was thinking. Yet, despite his best efforts, he felt a flicker of acceptance.
Frode chuckled softly, his eyes glinting with amusement and profound. "You're starting to get it, aren't you?"
Getting what? Isaak thought, the question drifting through his mind. Although he tried to shrug it off, he felt a strange warmth inside him, something that hadn't been there before.
"It's strange." Frode continued, his voice low and thoughtful. "Maybe this damn hellhole is really driving me insane or delusional, but ever since our first conversation, I've felt a weird sense of familiarity, which I never expected before."
Isaak furrowed his brow, unsure of what the old man was rambling about or how he was supposed to understand it. But… at least the lighthearted banter made the atmosphere feel less suffocating.
"Ahem. By the way, you've seemed a bit off since this morning." Frode suddenly remarked, interrupting Isaak's thoughts.
Isaak tensed slightly at the mention, his thoughts shifting to focus on what Frode was saying. He opened his mouth to deny it, but Frode cut him off by continuing.
"I noticed you mumbling about something and occasionally drawing something on the ground with dried blood, only to quickly erase it." He held his chin while recalling.
He shifted uncomfortably, attempting to dodge the topic. "I wasn't mumbling! I just draw random stuff because I was bored. You're imagining things."
Frode raised an eyebrow, unconvinced but chose to let it slide anyway. "Oh really? Then maybe I am imagining things." The old man's suddenly grin widened, as if he had just figured out Isaak's intentions. "But maybe I wasn't imagining things too. Look at you! You complain about me playing with the ant, yet you don't admit that you're drawing with dried blood and mumbling like a madman." He chuckled sarcastically.
"Yeah yeah…" Isaak grit his teeth in annoyance as the old man not only hit the nail on the head but also shot it back at him, making him unable to deny it.
After some seconds, he took a deep breath, contemplating his words a bit before quickly changing the subject by asking Frode in a serious, deep tone.
If he wanted to ensure that Frode would become his ally in this jailbreak, he needed just one thing to confirm it, not the story of his background, but something essential that he was sure they both shared. The only connection and common goal they had in mind.
"By the way… Do you have any regrets, old man?"
Frode's face shifted a bit as Isaak suddenly brought up a different topic in the middle of their conversation. Nevertheless, he considered the question for a few moments before responding, his voice low and heavy.
"Heh, maybe. I do have some regrets in my life." Frode laughed lightly, though the sound quickly faded."
"After all, everyone has regrets at some point. Something they didn't fulfill or a wrong choice made, especially when you end up in this prison, right?" His eyes hinted with grief, as if he were recalling some unhappy memories.
The weight of the response hung heavy in the air. Isaak could sense that the old man's regrets were big enough to change his expression this much; unlike any other he had shown, it was a face of guilt and regret.
The young man gulped as he took a deep breath before continuing, hesitantly yet with a strong determination in his voice.
"Old man. Tell me, do you want to continue living?"
"Huh?"
"…Or die in this hellish place, leaving regrets behind to run far away?"
"…"
Frode looked at the young man for a moment before replying slowly.
"What are you talking about? Kiddo?"
"I'm talking about—"
Suddenly, Frode burst out laughing as if he understood everything. He understood why Isaak was asking him if he had any regrets, if he still wanted to continue, or if he was ready to give up on everything.
"Of course I do, kiddo. I'm not a coward who runs away and leaves my regrets behind. That isn't the life I wanted, I wanted to live a life without regrets. I wanted to continue living!"
It was simple, far too easy for an old man like Frode to understand the meaning behind Isaak's words. He wasn't asking whether he wanted to continue living, it was about whether he wanted to run away from the mistakes he had made, to die like a coward or to die fulfilled.
In response, he wanted to continue living, maybe seeking redemption for his past actions, or maybe accidentaly making his life even worse.
Who knows? But for now, he wanted to continue living, and that is what mattered.
"Ah! I get it now. So that's what you're planning!"
"Uhh?"
Frode leaned in closer, a mischievous glint in his eye. "So you're planning a jailbreak, aren't you?"
Isaak nearly choked himself as he tried to calm himself down. "What? Me? Planning a jailbreak? Why do you keep saying such nonsense, old man?"
Frode narrowed his eyes, an amused smile creeping across his lips. He shifted forward, lowering his voice into a whisper. "Come on now. I've seen you mumbling and drawing random stuff with dried blood on the floor like some madman. It all points to one thing: you planning a jailbreak!"
Seeing no point in denying it anymore, Isaak sighed as he realized he had underestimated the old man's perception. Frode had already pieced things together more than he had anticipated. Sure, Frode knew a lot of things, but he didn't expect this old man to be that wise after all!
"Fine." He give up and admitted it with a reluctant expression on his face. "Yes, I'm thinking about jailbreak, but that doesn't mean it'll happen."
Frode bursted into laughter, the sound echoing off the stone walls of their cell, only to increasing Isaak's annoyance. "Ah! I knew it! You're not as clever as you think you are."
Isaak felt heat rush to his face as if he had been insulted. "What do you meant by that? Am I that obvious?"
The old man straightened up and placed his hand on his shoulder with a smirk. "Yes you are. Very obvious.
That why if it's just you planning this jailbreak alone, kiddo, you'll fail badly and end up dead as hell."
Isaak stared at Frode, unable to believe the old man just told him he was going to fumble so badly. Is he really that obvious at hiding things?
Frode then continued with a thumb up. "But you have me here. With my knowledge, we can escape this prison soon enough before our heads get chopped off."
"Huhuh?" Upon hearing that, Isaak couldn't help but step back slightly. "Who said anything about inviting you into my jailbreak plan, old man?!"
A chuckle escaped Frode's lips once more. "Oh please, your face said it all. I mean, if you really didn't want me to join your jailbreak plan, you wouldn't have asked me those random questions to encourage me to keep living, would you?"
"Uhh…"
"Besides, who else is going to help you? You don't know or get close to anyone here except me, and your reputation is terrible anyways. The Warden? Telling me that you suddenly can fly is much more believable than that."
Although Isaak wanted to tell him that there was someone helping him, and they were just outside the prison, not inside, but he decided to keep it a secret.
"So your best option is this old man. Who better to join you in your little jailbreak than an experienced man like me? Me! Without my wise brain guiding you, you'll fumble badly and end up dead right on the spot!"
Isaak pondered Frode's words for a moment before nodding hesitantly. At least he didn't have to directly ask Frode to join his jailbreak plan; he accepted it anyways.
It felt surreal to forge an alliance with someone who had been confined within these walls for so long. But that was a good thing… right?
"Alright then." Isaak said slowly, masking his inner turmoil with sarcasm. "I guess it's good to have a crazy old man on my side."
A sly grin spread across Frode's face as he continued. "Is that how you show when you have someone helping you? Give me a dap, kiddo!" He extended his arm and swung it toward Isaak.
With no other option, Isaak reacted quickly and swung his arm back, dapping with the old man. The sound of the clap echoed through the cell, marking the alliance between the two of them.
"Now that's the spirit!" Frode exclaimed with a laugh, as if he had entirely forgotten that the young man before him was the Sinner himself. "We're going to escape this hellhole together, shall we?"
Is this truly a wise move? Isaak pondered, a hint of doubt creeping in as he gazed at the old man before him. Can I really trusted in him?
However, there was no turning back now.
There seems no way to know unless I try…
After a moment of silence, Isaak decided to answered with a smile of his own, a confident one.
"Yeah, let's escape this hellish place together, old man."
He didn't know what lay ahead, whether he would succeed or die trying. But for now, he had his first ally whom he could truly trust for the first time since waking up in this place.
…And that was enough for him.