Just like that, about ten days passed.
Nothing significant took place.
Only a handful of conversations occurred among the inmates in this dull, privileged prison.
Of course, under the right conditions, their interactions gradually improved.
Truly, empathy played a crucial role in human developnt.
But the odds within this group were different... They were deranged, unstable. It seed their conditions were too extre, which ant the capsule was barely effective on them.
Example: The old man, Oscar, was lying in the cell to his left—the one who had already hurled curses at him just a few days earlier.
However, his goal was to gather more intel about the detainees before devising any escape strategy... Getting tangled with these maniacs was clearly a terrible idea.
After much effort, he finally obtained so insight, though it wasn’t particularly encouraging.
This prison was the kind of place where even a rat couldn’t flee—let alone a helpless inmate like him.
There was no signal here. That’s why his tracking coin couldn’t function, and no rescue attempt could be made.
Too bad.
Yet, most of the elite inmates remained composed, as if they firmly believed in sothing that would eventually get them out.
And eventually, he discovered the reason.
Anyone who survived until the end of the experint would beco one of Haley’s subordinates.
Wow.
That sounded pretty aweso. If that happened, it ant they would beco a mber of a Big Clan.
Money, won, power, etc.
They’d have it all—but only the privileged inmates. All the common ones would be thrown away, proof of the guilt of the brutal cris of the Wolf clan.
"Fuck! Is that what you call luck?" Hector muttered, shutting his eyes and leaning back against the wall.
"Anyway, Haley will kill , although I’m a new available prototype."
"I don’t buy that nonsense... Besides, I just want to smash him with my fist! After everything he put through!"
His skull felt like it was on fire; the more he rembered those bastards, he needed vengeance on.
He had to settle the score. It was the first ti rage had consud him this deeply... but all of it would be aningless if he couldn’t escape.
"Delusion? Illness? I can cure myself! Don’t forget—I’m a doctor." Hector stared at the capsule in his palm, then popped it into his mouth and swallowed.
Tastes like ds, he thought.
"Just a cheap knockoff of neuroleptics... I could manufacture this myself." He rolled his eyes and folded his arms, then slowly bowed his head and sighed under his breath.
"Sigh... But I need so materials... Forget it. I’ll manage with my connections."
That thought brought back mories of Kevin, Bam, the Instructor, and Violet.
"Tsk." He shook his head once more, a frown tightening on his face.
"Violet... She really reminds of a patient who passed away... Then I realized why I always felt uneasy around her... I’d better finish the formula soon. Sothing in my mind keeps stirring up old feelings...If I don’t have drugs, everything will be so bad."
Just imagining it made his body tremble. He couldn’t endure that emotional tornt again.
...
Creak!
Creak!
Creak!
One by one... all the steel doors in the prison swung open.
"Co to the extra site! Co to the extra site! Move it! Don’t make repeat myself!" A death-row guard’s voice rang out sharply.
...
"Well... I hope I find sothing useful before it’s too late," he thought, rising to his feet and moving ahead, instinctively glancing at the blonde-haired girl, Berry.
And in return, he caught a gentle smile.
"...I guess... I’ve fallen in love." He smirked, shaking his head.
"I don’t even know anymore... I fall for every girl who fits my type."
That was just his nature—he’d flirted with several girls back at the academy, but every attempt crashed because of his previously ruined reputation.
He hoped this ti would be different.
***
The jailer scanned the room with hollow eyes, casting a glance at the prisoner. Then, he pulled out a notebook from his leather pouch. It appeared to hold detailed notes about everything he observed concerning the prisoner.
Yes, that was his task.
Surveillance and experintation.
This was a unique place where all inmates had to perform their roles as test subjects.
Torture devices lay scattered across the chamber, and many captives beca obsessed until death claid them.
But that fate only befell rookies like Hector... while most of the seasoned prisoners had simply grown accustod.
"Where is it? What must we do?" Hector furrowed his brow, eyes filled with concern, as he looked around.
At that mont, a pale young man slowly approached Hector and said,
"You see... that’s where the experint will be conducted, to evaluate the drugs’ potency on us."
"Hmm! I understand, but..." Hector grimaced before adding,
"Why does everyone crave more vitality than...?"
That was easy to grasp, given he had already witnessed many lifeless, soulless faces among the captives.
"Hahaha... You really are a rookie," the pale man chuckled before continuing.
"You’re right! That ordeal was dreadful and terrifying for anyone, but we have to go through it—because it’s the only way to break free from the cursed symptoms!"
"Hmm... I know," Hector nodded slightly, then turned to the pale young man with a smile and offered his hand in greeting.
"Anyway, I’m Hector... Nice to et you in hell!"
The pale young man simply nodded in return and said,
"Nah, I’m Tyrone." He shook Hector’s hand as well.
Standing before Hector was a young man with a pale complexion and jet-black hair. He was also rather frail and weak, a result of the brutal conditions inside the cell.
Besides that, what stuck most in Hector’s mind were the scars on his face.
They clearly existed before he awoke—marks that hadn’t fully healed.
Still, forming connections in a place like this was crucial for him; at the very least, he could gather information he lacked, even if it ca from a madman.
But now, he was a madman too.
When everyone is mad, no one is mad.
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