Rolin stared at her for a moment—then flinched in irritation.
"Do you have problems with your ears?
I told you—do your job."
Before she could respond, a soldier entered without knocking, carrying a tray with two cups of coffee.
Gentle steam rose from them.
Rolin immediately recoiled.
To someone who had never seen such a thing before, this… was suspicious.
The soldier placed the cups on the table, glanced at Rolin with clear disgust, then left.
Rolin felt the look—but didn't care.
It wasn't like he cared in the first place.
'What is this thing? It smells weird.
Are they trying to poison me?'
The woman picked up her cup and took a sip.
Her pupils shrank slightly, then returned to normal.
From inside her coat, she pulled out two small packets.
She opened the first—sugar—and poured it into her cup.
Then the second—
A white liquid flowed out.
Milk.
Rolin stiffened.
He had heard before that milk was white…
but this was the first time he had ever seen real milk.
The milk sold in the Kennel was yellowish—or sometimes purple.
Expired.
Diluted.
Or mixed with factory waste.
She gently stirred the cup with her finger, then took another sip.
A relaxed expression appeared on her beautiful face.
She looked at Rolin.
"Go ahead."
Rolin held the warm cup with both hands and took a sip.
His face twisted violently.
"Ghk—!
What the hell is this?! It's insanely bitter!"
He spat it out.
She laughed.
"Well, maybe you need some sugar and milk."
"No. I don't want it.
I lost my appetite."
Her laughter grew louder.
She adjusted her posture—placing her right hand on her knee and her left on the table.
"Alright. Let's talk details."
Rolin's expression darkened again.
"I told you. I don't want anything."
She smiled calmly.
"Listen first. Then decide."
Two Days Later
Rolin sat inside an armored carriage moving along an unknown road—
toward prison.
On his right sat a soldier wearing warm clothes:
a black coat, strange pants he'd never seen before, leather boots, and a sword on his back.
On his left—
A tall prisoner with bulging muscles and scars covering his face.
He wore torn clothes and no shoes.
The man noticed Rolin staring.
"What are you looking at, insect?"
Rolin looked away.
"Nothing."
The prisoner snorted and ignored him.
Inside the armored carriage were seven prisoners, including Rolin.
Ten soldiers, two drivers, and eight guards.
Three things caught Rolin's attention.
First—
A strange guard who looked far too kind.
He carried two swords on his back and smiled like someone who didn't belong here.
Second—
A prisoner locked inside a fully sealed cage, with no openings for light whatsoever, placed deep inside the carriage.
And third—
The most confusing… unsettling… and suspicious thing of all—
There was a little girl.
A child.
Sitting calmly beside the kind-looking guard.
Rolin stared.
'…Alright.
Either I'm already dead—
or prison has changed a lot since last time I checked.'