As I settled into my cell, I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing thoughts.

Suddenly, a certain someone came to the door and unlocked it. The prison guard always lets his boredom get the better of him, thus leading to an infliction of spontaneous rambunctiousness.

This time, the guard knocked on the cell door and yelled, "Time for breakfast, Mr. Masato. Come on, get up!" I grumbled, rolling my eyes at the absurdity of the situation.

But then, I remembered that it was a new day and a new start. With a sigh, I got up from my bed and stumbled over to the door.

"Ugh! You stink! Maybe take a shower first..." he said to me. Even though it was rather offensive to hear these words, complaining would forever remain futile.

As I shuffled towards the door, I looked around the cell.

There was no way my scent would bother anyone apart from myself. I did not share with a cellmate, after all. But I still felt a sudden pang of anxiety. What was the point of this stupid exercise? I had to work for a living, remember?

The guard unlocked the door and I stepped into the hallway. The food hall was busting with people; it was obvious even from as far back as my current position.

The smell of greasy food and sweat made my stomach churn. I grabbed my towel and other toiletries, making my way to the shower room.

Staying separate from everyone else was indeed for a real reason.

A lot of convicts hate people like me; this has always been true. In their case, they were caught in pretty crimes like stealing money or vehicles. But in my case...? There was no defense; I had forced myself onto a girl.

As I entered the shower room, I quickly washed off the grime and sweat from my body. Hot water felt like a welcome relief, washing away the tension from the previous night.

I stepped out of the shower and dried off with a towel, feeling a bit more human again.

As I dressed, I thought about my situation.

Being in prison was not what I had expected, but it was certainly not without its benefits. I was able to clear my head and plan my next steps.

With any luck, I would be released in a few days and I could start fresh.

As I left the shower room, I spotted an inmate sitting in the corner, staring blankly at the wall. I read his serial number or loud, "493519".

He seemed irritated by my gesture and even started growling in my direction. In response, I gave a wheezy smile.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

I had to admit, even with my short time here, I still had a few tricks up my sleeve.

The inmate just shook his head, mumbling something about 'the weak are only called that because of their lack of strength'.

Deciding not to engage in needless philosophical drivel, changing the topic was par for the course.

I spoke, "So, have you ever heard of the Zero line?"His face twisted into a snarl. "What are you talking about?" he growled.

I leaned in closer, lowering my voice. "The Zero Line. It's a line that the Justice Department uses to catch informants. You never know who's going to get caught in it, but it's a big risk for the person who's willing to take it."

The inmate's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What do you mean? What's the Zero Line?"

I leaned in even closer, lowering my voice further. "It's a line where the informant can't be identified or traced back to them. They can use fake names, fake identities, or even no names at all. It's a way for people like us to get out of dangerous situations and help the law enforcement community without putting ourselves in danger. Accept this answer from yours truly; it might be beneficial... wouldn't you say? I've gotten myself a lucrative deal, so some good connections will be within my radius. I know your story, after all."

This was the most reliable tactic to gain someone's trust — a combination of pretty much everything.

Pointing him towards a common enemy, letting him know that I understand his plight, then letting down a metaphorical rope from suffering.

I continued, "Von sold you out, didn't he? The gang you served for so long... none of those guys had any fucks to give about you; as soon as the cops were on tail, you were dubbed sacrificial material. In my point of view, loyalty has to be earned."

I stopped speaking then and there. He was easy cold read simply by facial expressions. The flow of the conversation was in my control. He muttered, "Yeah, those bastards threw me to the side. But how did you know?"

He had a working brain at the very least, though I wouldn't reward him with answers.

"I have my sources; that's all." My lips curled into a smirk.

"Back on topic, if you agree to partner with me, maybe — just maybe — the Secretary of Justice will have you out, what do you say?"

Gareth's suspicion was visible. Obviously, there was no basis for my plea.

The Zero Line was a dangerous line that only the most desperate criminals would dare to cross. But with a little bit of charm and a willingness to offer something of value, I could convince anyone to do anything.

"I will have you assisting me with information I might have missed out on... In return, I'll put in a good word for you with the Secretary of Justice. Simple enough, right? Even if it doesn't work out, it's not like it'll disadvantage you in any way. It's a stale-win situation."

These were the only two outcomes set his way. He wouldn't be negatively affected, but there was a possibility of being set free.

"Gareth, you know this is your chance, right?" My plan was not complicated at all. Gareth's face twisted into a scowl. "I don't trust you," he growled.

I leaned in closer, lowering my voice."You don't need to. Just jump at this opportunity."

Silence filled the air and he considered the task. "Alright," he finally acquiesced under my demands.

This was way too easy.

I bowed and walked away, towel wrapping my lower body.

Guard Torrence sighed, having witnessed everything that happened, but reluctantly following me.

That reminds me... usually, he would force me to do whatever weird thing popped into his mind, but today was an exception.

Perhaps I'd given enough entertainment for today considering his layed-back disposition.

Over the next thirty minutes, I dressed up and made way to the Food Hall. The smell of freshly cooked food filled the air as I walked towards the entrance.

As I stepped inside, I was greeted by the sight of a long line of prisoners waiting to be served.

After five minutes of waiting, my turn arrived. The server looked at me with a sympathetic gaze. "Sorry dude. Food ran out. Better luck next time."

Incongruous was the only word to describe this event. What a great way to start a day!

...Shit.

As I turned to leave, I felt a sharp pain in my side. I gasped, clutching at my side as I stumbled backwards.

The server rushed over, concern etched on his face.

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