I wasn’t ruling out the possibility that someone might come for me before I got out of this cell. It felt like someone was pulling the strings. First, this guy ended up in prison under suspicious circumstances. Then I woke up in his body, which had died from poisoning. And now, this quest to make it out alive—it all pointed to something bigger.
Getting out wouldn’t be simple. Someone would probably try to stop me. But who? Who would bother targeting someone deemed useless?
"You’ll be killed," Nix said bluntly.
I shook my head, caught off guard by her directness. "What should I do? I don’t have any weapons, and this guy didn’t even learn martial arts."
Fighting with just basic punches and kicks wouldn’t work against someone aiming to kill me. I felt the odds stacking against me. The tight space of the cell offered no room for maneuvering, and being unarmed made it worse. I couldn’t shake the thought that I was at a complete disadvantage.
"It’d be great if you had myogen so you could use my powers too," Nix said with a cheerful smile. "But don’t worry! I’ll take care of it for now."
I looked at her, frowning. "It’s a nice idea, but I’m not letting you drain your life force," I said firmly.
If she used her myogen or her powers while I remained unable to channel it, it would cost her life force, leaving her drained. She’d need a long rest to recover, and that wasn’t something I could let happen. The harsh reality was that this guy’s body was too weak and completely untrained in myogen, leaving us both at a disadvantage.
"It’s fine!" she said, grinning. "I’ll just use a small part of my power."
I glanced toward the cell door, deep in thought. "No," I said after a moment. "I’ll come up with something else."
Even if she only used a small part of her power, the side effects would still hit her. I couldn’t stand by and let her suffer while I stayed unharmed. There had to be another way.
"I can do it!" Nix insisted, her tone firm as I remained lost in thought.
I looked at her and gently tapped her head. "I know, but not now," I said.
I needed to think. How could I turn this disadvantage into an advantage? Reacting wouldn’t cut it—I had to plan.
I forced myself to analyze my surroundings: the cell, the bed, the dust, the structure. The door to the cell was the only entry point, meaning whoever came to kill me would have no choice but to use it. That was their only way in. On top of that, the assassin would most likely strike when I was most vulnerable—at night.
A grin spread across my face, catching Nix's attention. "We’ve got our first advantage, Nix!" I said, my voice brimming with excitement.
She tilted her head curiously. "What is it?"
I smiled wider, almost like a madman. I didn’t know why, but the thrill of piecing this together excited me. "The assassin—or whoever tries to kill me—doesn’t know that I know they’re coming. We can use that against them."
The quest was my secret. Only Nix and I could see it. That meant the assassin wouldn’t suspect I was aware of their plan. I had the element of surprise on my side.
Earlier, I thought I was completely outmatched—no skills, no weapons, nothing. But now I realized that knowledge and information were my biggest weapons. I just needed to think harder, to stay one step ahead.
The pattern of comings and goings in this jail was simple: no visitors unless they had authority—either nobles or someone carrying a pass from a higher-up. Second, there weren’t many guards. In my time here, I’d only seen four guards and the one interrogator who managed this whole small-time operation. The low numbers made sense, considering it was a tiny jail holding just eight prisoners, all waiting for sentencing.
But despite its size, the jail’s security was annoyingly tight. Infiltrating from the outside seemed almost impossible, which narrowed down the potential threat to the guards or staff.
And that’s when it clicked. The sheer absurdity of it all hit me, and I burst out laughing like a complete maniac. "Wahahahaha!"
Nix froze, wide-eyed, and instinctively shuffled a step back, her fur puffing up as she put on some weird defensive stance. "What is wrong with you?!"
Through my uncontrollable laughter, I managed to gasp out, "Oh, relax, Nix, I’m not possessed!"
She squinted at me like I’d just grown a second head. "Could’ve fooled me! Who laughs like that in jail?"
That only made me laugh harder, which seemed to freak her out even more. She crossed her tiny arms and muttered, "Great, I bonded with a lunatic."
I thought eliminating some variables would lead me to a much greater conclusion—and I was right. Outsiders definitely wouldn’t try to infiltrate this heavily guarded jail; it had high-level defensive magic protecting it. That led me to the conclusion that the killer had to be someone on the inside. The few guards made it easier to narrow it down. There were two guards on the morning shift, and two more on the evening shift. The morning shift was off the table, so the killer had to be one of the two evening guards.
I looked at Nix, clearly deep in thought, but still creeping her out a bit. I had to wonder—do I look like a serial killer when I’m thinking? Right now, I felt like I could do anything. Thinking was, honestly, kind of fun.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
I then glanced over at the bed. "Nix, could you help me push this bed?" I asked.
She looked at me suspiciously. "Why?" she asked.
"It’s for the plan," I said. "I have a plan that doesn’t require you to use your powers."
That got her attention. She leaned forward, her little ears perked up. "A plan?"
The bed was normally positioned near the door, and the light from the outside room made half of it visible, which wasn't ideal. So, we had to move it further back, making it darker and farther from the entrance.
"What’s your plan?" Nix asked as we successfully moved the bed.
I smiled. "Finding the culprit."
Buzz!
Before I could even think of what to do next, the alarm went off, catching the attention of the prisoners and me alike.
A guard appeared in front of my cell. "Hey, get out. Time to clean outside," he said.
I slowly nodded and walked toward him, then stopped when I reached the door. "Wait," I said, turning to look at the guard. "What day is it today?"
He scratched his head. "It’s Sunday."
So, it was cleaning day. I had seen the schedule posted on the wall when I was walking to the interrogation room. Sunday was the designated cleaning day. On cleaning days, prisoners were allowed to clean outside—but, of course, under maximum security. Prisoners couldn't even think of escaping, as the magical security could kill them with just a touch.
"I forgot about that, sorry," I said as I walked over and lined up.
This was off-plan, but I figured I had to do it before continuing to think. It could also be an opportunity to learn more about the structure of the jail. We weren't allowed to talk to other prisoners, just seen cleaning.
As we walked outside, a strong, unpleasant smell hit my nose. The air inside the city where the jail was located was clearly polluted. It was thick with pollution, and the ground we were meant to clean was covered with dirt, leaves, cigarette butts, and dead birds.
Was the air even safe? Or was this air going to kill me? It was full of dust, too. When the wind blew, it carried the dust everywhere. Then I waited for the guards to remove their attention to us and that's when I grabbed some sand and a brick stone from the ground and stuffed it into my tight pocket.
After cleaning, we were given our meals, back inside our cells. Even though I was grateful for the decent food, I needed Nix to check for any poisonous substances.
She shook her head. "You're safe," she said.
The activities on this Sunday were definitely more than a normal day. In the morning, we cleaned; in the afternoon, we went back to our cells like usual, but were given requests—books to read, puzzles to solve, and other hobby and craft items. In the evening, we were given a piece of paper by the city’s priest, and we had to write our repentance on it.
Sunday was like a cheat day for prisoners here. We could request things, and they'd give them to us—but only for Sunday. Me? I didn’t wish for any food or things to fight boredom. Tonight could be my last night, so I had to keep planning for my safety and survival. I requested a blanket and two soft pillows, and they gave them to me.
"You said you were going to request expensive food for us, so why ask for a blanket and pillows?" Nix asked, eyeing the pillows and blanket I requested.
I pointed at the pillows. "These will be valuable." I grabbed the pillows and blanket.
image [https://static.vecteezy.com/system/resources/thumbnails/027/187/944/small/gold-and-luxury-under-line-png.png]
The sun had set, and the night was settling in.
The guards shifted. Two were now on the evening shift, and one of them was the killer. I couldn’t rule out the possibility that there might be more than one assassin targeting me. But now, I had to act and start identifying the potential killer.
They began handing out the paper for us to write on. One guard stood by the other side of the cells, while the other stood in front of mine. Once we handed over the paper, they'd go outside to guard the prison, leaving one of them to watch from inside one of the rooms.
"I'm done," I said quickly, hoping to catch the attention of the guard in front of my cell as I passed him the paper.
As he grabbed it, I stopped him. "Something’s off," I said, locking eyes with him.
I knew this was risky, but it was necessary. Even if it led to a different conclusion, it could give me a better chance to survive.
He didn’t seem to understand. He was focused on taking the paper from my hands. "Give me that, are you insane?" he said. "What are you talking about?" He managed to pull the paper away from me.
"Someone’s gonna kill me tonight."
It was a slip-up, a confession that could increase my chances of survival. If he wasn’t the killer, he’d be alarmed and would probably keep an eye on my cell. If he was the killer, he might back off and not go through with it.
He chuckled. "Hey, just act normal. I heard you’re going out tomorrow. If you act like you’re losing your mind, they won’t let you go. So, if I were you, I’d stop saying those crazy things." He clearly didn’t know anything.
That was it.
He was cleared. I looked him in the eye, studying his expression. He didn’t seem nervous or scared by my confession. Instead, he seemed casual, but I thought he might also be wondering if what I said was true.
So, the other guard was the killer.
"Nix," I said, but got no response.
"Hey, Nix."
Still nothing. She was clearly resting inside my body.
I sighed and fixed the pillow and blanket. Honestly, it wasn’t for me—it was for the killer. I arranged it in a way that made it look like someone was sleeping in the bed.
A decoy.
It was too dark for the killer to see clearly, so he’d have to physically check and uncover it to find out. Meanwhile, I positioned myself under the bed, close enough to slide out smoothly and make my move.
In my hand was the brick I’d grabbed earlier, shaped into a small knife with a sharp edge. It wasn’t much, but it might be useful. In my other hand, I had the sand I’d picked up. It would serve as a distraction. If I could blind him, I could make my attack.
"Hah!" I exhaled, realizing this was finally happening.
My original plan had been to tell the interrogator, about someone possibly trying to kill me, but he wasn’t here—he was in another city, I heard. That forced me to go with this plan.
"Hah!" I exhaled again, trying to calm myself as my hands shook. The only sound I could hear was my own heartbeat.
I waited for an hour under the bed.
It was exhausting. Sweat covered me, and my heart kept pounding. I gripped the sharpened brick tighter in my hand.
"Come on," I whispered.
Thud. Thud.
Tu-tump. Tu-tump. Tu-tump.
I tried to steady my breathing, clutching my chest as the footsteps neared my cell. I heard the lock turn.
Tu-tump.
He was here.
I gripped the sharpened brick harder, knowing the killer was getting closer to my bed.
Swishhh! He pulled the blanket off.
I couldn’t see him, but I could tell he was shocked. "Where are y—!" He was cut off mid-sentence as I slid out from under the bed, grabbing the sand and throwing it at his eyes.
It worked.
"Fuck!" he shouted, clutching his face. But as he dropped his hands, I closed the gap and slashed at his eye.
He dropped his sword.
The light made him clearer to see now.
Tu-tump.
I shook my head, staring down at him as he knelt, clutching his injured eye. "You," I said, stunned as I took in the sight of him fully.
He chuckled, wincing in pain as he held his eye, reaching for his sword and trying to stand up.
"You’re not just good at talking," he said, finally standing tall with the sword in his hands. He was massive. "You’re a good thinker, too," he added, then lunged at me.
It was the interrogator.
This time, I didn’t know what to do. I was an idiot for not going for his neck earlier.
But then, my body moved on its own. Muscle memory?
Swishhh!
Huff.
I dodged the massive sword’s swing, but it crashed into the wall, the sound echoing through the cell. The other prisoners must’ve heard it—they’d realize someone was being killed.
Huff.
He grabbed his eye, the one I’d slashed. "Damn. You got it pretty deep," he said. "Dodge this."
He swung again, but this time in a different pattern, coming from an angle I couldn’t see.
Swishhh!
I barely dodged it. It was just muscle memory, the body reacting on its own.
The problem was, I couldn’t defend myself. I had no real weapon, just this small sharpened brick. I had to think.
Think.
Think.
Think.
Swish.
"Aghhhh!" I screamed as he slashed me. His speed had picked up. What was slow before was now faster. He wasn’t playing anymore. The sword cut through my body, leaving a long, painful slash.
I collapsed to my knees, unable to think, unable to move. The wound wasn’t deep, but it was enough to paralyze me. The blood pouring from the gash made me fall, my knees giving out.
He chuckled. "Hahahaha. I don’t get why you were such a nuisance to him. You’re just a weak guy," he said, laughing again.
Thud. Thud.
More guards arrived.
The massive interrogator looked at them, still chuckling. "Give this man a sword," he said. "It’s not fun to kill him without a fight."