And I'm still here.
"Ughhh…"
Even when I tried to sleep, I was still here.
My irritation kept growing, but there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.
"Did you hear? They brought a mage from the Tower to the prison."
"The one who secretly worked for a criminal organization? I thought that was just a rumor?"
"No, one of the guards I know said he saw him. They say he's a real piece of—uh… yeah."
"Well, who are we to judge? Even if we can use magic, all we can do with it is make a little water ball and fill a glass." — the first girl sighed, disappointed.
"Let's go inside, it's getting windy out here."
"Yeah…"
And then another day passed.
"Ughhh…"
I was still here.
And another day.
And another…
A whole week went by.
"Hah… Seriously, isn't this a bit much?"
"Tsk." — I clicked my tongue in annoyance, looking up at the sky.
The midday sun was shining high and bright, not a single cloud in sight.
Surprisingly, this prison treated inmates pretty well — as long as they didn't cause problems.
They even let me out of solitary the day after that incident.
"Are mages really this respected here? Or maybe it's because most of the prisoners are nobles?"
From what I overheard, their magic was weak. If their crime wasn't something like "treason," the nobles who ended up here were usually just scapegoats for their families. And thanks to a few basic spells, they landed themselves in this special prison for mages — aka "fancy jail with perks."
The rest, the ones without fancy backgrounds, were actually dangerous. Murderers, con artists, gang members… you name it.
To avoid trouble, every prisoner wore a mana-suppressing collar.
("Wow, I'm starting to sound like a high schooler obsessed with fantasy novels. I really need to get a grip…")
I stayed in that prison, and with each passing day, my hope shrank a little more.
After the incident where I almost got killed by the leader of the assassin guild, every other attempt ended in failure.
"Who would've thought the head of the assassin guild had a weak heart…?"
When I approached the serial killer, somehow he just started sobbing.
"I only told him to go cry to his mommy, and he burst into tears screaming 'Ma-mamaaa…'"
"Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned his mom? Hah."
Then, when I tried to piss off a guard enough to make him kill me, he did get mad, and we got into a heated argument—
—Which somehow turned into him venting about a fight he had with his wife. Twenty minutes later, I was comforting the guy. Like, why is this my life?
("But hey… compared to a real prison, this place isn't that bad.")
There was a garden, decent food, even a library.
Walking along the neat stone path, I was lost in my thoughts.
"Great. Depression arc, here we come."
—"Oh…"
I exhaled when I felt someone bump into me.
"Oh? Mr. Pretty Face?"
Seeing someone familiar, I stopped. That handsome stranger I had a short chat with last week… to my surprise, his presence cheered me up a bit. Talking to someone was definitely better than going completely insane.
For a split second, I thought I saw surprise flash in his eyes.
"Do we know each other?" — he asked, smiling.
Despite the friendly look, something about it felt off. It made me hesitate.
("His eyebrows… they dropped a little. Is he faking it? Or am I just too used to faking things myself to trust anyone now?")
"Don't you remember? We talked last week. If not, then—"
"Oh, right! Sorry, I've been swamped with work lately."
("Why do I feel like he's lying…? Maybe I am going crazy.")
"You're a guard? I don't think you were wearing that uniform last time."
"Ah, that… Don't worry about it. Shall we walk?"
He smoothly changed the subject and gestured toward the alleyway.
I nodded silently, and we began walking slowly.
"Guess the whole suicide thing didn't work out?"
"Ugh, don't even bring it up. Just thinking about it makes me sick." — I grimaced, shrugging. My gaze caught on a rose bush, and I slowed down.
"You didn't hear? The assassin guild leader had a heart attack, and the serial killer ran off crying…"
Squatting down and hugging my knees, I started inspecting the red roses.
"Pff, you're a funny one." — he tried to stifle a laugh and crouched beside me, also admiring the flowers.
"You like roses?"
"They're pretty, sure. But I like pretty faces more. Way more soothing than any flower."
I replied flatly, still stuck in a bad mood. Sure, the roses were nice — but were they useful?
If roses suddenly lost their beauty, wouldn't people stop watering them altogether? They'd become weeds, left to survive on their own. Then again… beauty is their only weapon. Ironic.
I brushed my fingers along the rough petals of a rose. Then, letting my hand slip lower, I touched the stem.
Prick.
Because of my carelessness, my finger fell right into a thorn's trap. Blood welled up instantly.
"You're pretty direct. Do you really like my face that much?" — he leaned in, amused, so close I could feel his breath against my ear and neck.
(It hurts.)
"Oh, be careful."
"You're bleeding. You shouldn't touch rose stems so carelessly. The thorns are sharper than they look."
"Ah… yeah."
("Wait a sec. It hurts...?")
"This isn't a dream…?" — I turned my face toward him, eyes full of hopelessness.
"What are you talking about? I'm very much real."
("My dear car… my villa… does this mean all my efforts were pointless?")
This… this is just…
"Haha-haha…"
Yeah. I'm definitely going insane.