The next day, in the corridor on the first floor of the prison.
"Did you hear? They found the chief guard's body on the mountain last night."
"Yeah. They say wild beasts tore him apart..."
The guards were inspecting the relatively safe cells on the first floor.
They were on high alert due to their boss's sudden death.
"You really think it was wild beasts?"
"I heard the Black Knights Order investigated it themselves. They wouldn't report falsehoods."
The Black Knights Order was renowned for thoroughly investigating every incident.
Even so, some guards still looked unconvinced.
"Think about it. The chief guard was a centurion on the battlefield."
"He wouldn't go down easily to some beasts."
Everyone was shaken by that point—it was undeniably bizarre.
"I think he was assassinated. Someone took him out."
"Who, though? Who here could pull off something like that?"
The guard swallowed hard.
He glanced tensely at the stairs leading to the warden's office.
"He's here. That family that's done hits for generations."
"You don't mean Warden Derek...?"
The black-haired guard nodded quietly.
His voice was hushed, lest anyone overhear.
"Right after he got leave last night, the senior guard died. Looks like a trap to sniff out traitors to me."
Everyone swallowed hard at the realization they could be next.
"We'd better watch our backs. He's thorough enough to fool even the Black Knights Order."
As their anxious conversation continued, they arrived at a cell.
But they didn't stop, pressing on with their talk.
"Speaking of which, the warden's one tough customer. Teaming up with that scary saintess."
"Typical shady young noble type. If he tried marrying my daughter, I'd investigate him first."
The guards were checking the cell door handle.
But...
The door, which should have been locked tight, stood wide open.
"What the—why's this door open?"
"I told them to leave it open."
The guards, exhausted from dealing with the saintess, had been neglecting their duties.
They locked eyes with the blond man who had the top-tier cell all to himself.
"I always have it left open for my morning walks."
The prisoner who could command other guards—Grand Elder Dark.
Standing with his hands behind his back, he asked leisurely,
"By the way, I'd like to hear more of that story you were just telling."
Guards who had always sternly punished any prisoner crossing the line.
They froze, their faces turning pale before the old man's imposing presence.
"What did the new warden do?"
The man called the king among nobles, even with the emperor still reigning.
Prisoner number 2, Grand Elder Dark, had taken notice of the new warden.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
At that moment, in the warden's office.
I sipped my coffee, mulling over the news of my morning arrival.
"Good work. Cleanly handled—lucky break."
"Tell me about it. He bolted so fast he ended up beast chow... tsk."
"You lie as smoothly as you look."
"Huh? What do you mean?"
Clea's expression remained blank, but the corner of her mouth twitched up.
Like a chess player pleased with her opponent's clever move.
"Pulling a shift with me on purpose to secure an alibi. Quite cute."
What the hell is she talking about?
As I widened my villainous sharp eyes in surprise, she shook her head.
"It's fine. I'll turn a blind eye, so get to work."
The paper Clea handed me had a visitor request scribbled on it.
From the king of nobles—the second despair of my life.
Grand Elder Dark's name.
"Now you've got something more urgent to focus on."
"True enough."
Maybe because she saw I was serious about the warden job.
Clea's gaze toward me had grown markedly earnest.
"Be careful. More than one guard's vanished after crossing Dark."
"I know. Not a brainwashing case, right?"
"Yes. He dispatched auditors to strip anyone he disliked bare. And you're infamous as a wastrel—think you can handle him?"
"Fair point. That old fox probably sniffed out my notoriety ages ago."
Clea let out a short sigh.
She brushed her blue hair behind her ear and stepped closer.
"Exactly. So when you meet the elder, maintaining dignity is key."
Her delicate hands smoothed my rumpled collar.
A clean soap scent wafted up, chasing away the prison stink.
"Honestly, I don't think you can persuade even the Grand Elder."
The vice warden straightened my loose tie.
Then, with her steadfast blue eyes, she said,
"But I'll trust your sincerity about reforming this place."
She who'd crushed imperial kin wielding power over her with force alone.
Her unyielding heart truly wished for the prisoners' redemption.
"I'll live up to that trust."
I headed back down the underground stairs.
Unlike the saintess's isolation cell, Dark's was remarkably close.
'Pretty cushy spot for a Class 1 prisoner.'
Before entering, I peeked through the door.
A luxurious carpet fit for the warden's office.
Unlike the moldy corridor, a fragrant black tea aroma lingered.
It felt more like a high-end hotel room than a prison cell.
"Are you the warden here?"
The blond man in the leather chair glanced at me.
Teacup and saucer in hand.
"Yes, Grand Elder. Derek Minster. Here for our meeting."
"First visit a whole month after I arrived? That's new."
Intelligent eyes that must've heard "handsome" often in his youth.
The man resembling an old lion set down his saucer.
"I've been tied up with circumstances. I hope you understand."
"Tied up? I figured you'd be the most laid-back one in this prison."
His piercing sixty-year-old eyes flashed.
He'd never left this place, yet he already knew all about me.
"You're the wastrel young master who bought this warden post, right?"
Any ordinary guard would've been speechless, choked up.
But I wasn't intimidated at all.
Back in my past life as prime minister, I'd traded barbs with him on equal footing countless times.
That dignified, oppressive gaze felt familiar now.
"Same as why you're here under circumstances, Elder."
"You, infamous wastrel, and me?"
I'd caught his interest, but his expression soured.
Like a battle-scarred lion alpha looking down disdainfully at a fang-baring serpent.
Even Clea, peeking secretly through the door crack, tensed up.
But I hadn't spoken without preparation.
As former imperial prime minister in my past life, I knew the empire's ins and outs.
"You're not here for committing a crime yourself. It's your son, right?"
"How do you know about my son? I knew the Minster family was dirty, but digging into my affairs?"
His sole weakness exposed, the Grand Elder's face darkened further.
Clea clutched her forehead, wondering why I'd prod him.
"As warden, I need accurate intel on prisoners for smooth management."
I continued flatly, without a flicker of expression.
Like fulfilling my duty earnestly.
"Frankly, it's odd seeing you here. So I looked into it—don't take it personally."
With my stance clear, Dark dropped the probing.
"The boy botched a command, sacrificing thousands on the battlefield. Parents' failure to raise him right."
Fuming at the mere thought of his son, Dark closed his eyes.
He lifted his teacup again, inhaling the scent to calm his fiery temper.
"You could've ended it with an apology letter. But you chose exile yourself."
"Politics is vicious. Better to step down clean than get blackmailed."
I removed my uniform cap.
"Is that the only reason?"
"...What are you getting at?"
Dark furrowed his brow slightly.
His already intimidating face grew fiercer.
But my serpentine, shady visage was no slouch either.
"Give me a chance, and I'll presume to divine your deeper intent."
The elder pulled a pocket watch from his robe.
Five minutes had passed since our meeting began.
Previous wardens hadn't lasted three.
"Speak. But if it's trivial speculation to grab my attention, prepare yourself."
"Thank you."
I took out my prepared cigar and lit it.
Casually draping it on the windowsill as it burned down.
"You're pretending to have retired from politics."
The harsh cigar smoke seeped into every corner of the sill.
Soon, black shadows crept up through the old stone cracks.
"Watching how your allied nobles act in your absence."
Bugs that hadn't stirred even amid the fragrant tea.
They emerged at the cigar's acrid stench.
"A loyalty test, of sorts."
I picked up the cigar again.
And scorched the black bugs' heads with the ember.
Thoroughly, mercilessly.
"For perfect camouflage, you chose this place. Berryhill's the worst exile spot—ideal for signaling a dead political career."
The bug corpses scattered in the exile land's cold wind.
"I'm in the same boat. Came here to survive my brilliant brothers."
I turned my back to the radiant northern sun.
Shadows cloaked my face, leaving only my green eyes glinting.
"Reason enough?"
If he'd dug into me already, he'd know family infighting's brutality.
Dark had crawled from the bottom like me in his political debut.
"Choosing a prison as a hideout is a commonality, sure."
The Grand Elder chuckled and shook his head.
He rose from his seat for the first time.
"Yes. To survive, you need that much grit."
He took the cigar from the sill.
The man who'd endured forty years from his palace debut at twenty drew it to his lips.
"Good, Warden Derek. So stubbornly clinging here—what do you aim to achieve?"
Violet eyes piercing all through the thick smoke flashed.
I had to answer carefully here.
Having piqued his interest, now he'd test my caliber.
The king of nobles was probing my ambitions.
"..."
The door behind me creaked slightly.
Clea was eavesdropping intently, ear to the crack.
Even the sharp woman knew this answer's weight.
"If your aims align with mine again, I'll view you 'favorably' from here on."
The king of nobles, holding half the empire's power elite.
His favor meant making me a real power here.
But if he disliked it...
I'd be buried here as a corpse.
⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙The Grand Elder's test has begun. If prisoner persuasion fails, all of your family's corruption will be exposed, leading to execution.