"By your command, I will do anything you wish, my young queen, Leon said with a faint smile, slowly stepping closer to her."
"Y-young?" Maylan stamred, feeling her cheeks flush red. "Oh, don't joke like that. I'm already old," she added, trying to shake off the sudden wave of embarrassnt.
But Leon wasn't about to give her a chance to collect herself.
"Old? When I walked in here, I thought I saw a beautiful young princess—graceful and radiant, like a spring flower, he continued, with a teasing yet sincere tone."
"B-beautiful?" Maylan whispered. Without realizing it, she took a step closer. Her hand instinctively reached out for Leon's, clasping it firmly. Their eyes t, and ti seed to stand still.
But suddenly, a loud, deliberate cough broke the mont.
"Ahem, ahem," ca the voice of a maid who had been silently standing in the corner of the room. Her gaze clearly suggested they should stop.
The queen quickly pulled her hand away and stepped back, her face burning with embarrassnt.
Leon, clearly annoyed, clicked his tongue as he let go of her hand.
"Tch... Just a bit more, and I could've been Julius's stepfather," he thought, smirking to himself.
Out loud, however, he quickly adopted a more serious expression and began apologizing.
"My apologies, Your Majesty. I didn't an to overstep."
"It's fine, Leon" Maylan replied, trying to regain her regal composure. "I accept your apology. Although it's a sha you won't be able to befriend my son for now, I'm still grateful to you for everything."
Her words were genuine. It truly pleased her to hear Leon's complints. In recent years, her confidence had dwindled, especially beside Roland, who had long since stopped seeing her as a woman. But those words, though a bit audacious, rekindled a forgotten sense of pride within her.
A few minutes later, their conversation ca to an end. Leon said his farewells and made his way toward the exit.
But before he left, Maylan reminded him:
"Tomorrow is the ceremony to honor your achievents. Make sure you return on ti."
Leon nodded, smiled, and left the room.
As soon as he stepped outside, a familiar chanical voice greeted him:
"I hope you were satisfied with today's events, Master."
It was his artificial intelligence, Luxion.
"Ah, so that's what felt off. Your absence!" Leon chuckled. "I was beginning to think things were too quiet today."
"I had several reasons for staying away" Luxion replied, his voice emotionless yet faintly sarcastic. "First, I wanted to let you enjoy the mont. Second, your actions gave ... what do you humans call it... secondhand embarrassnt?"
Leon snorted.
"Secondhand embarrassnt? Don't make laugh. I was magnificent."
He confidently strode toward the palace gates.
However, just as he stepped outside, a stranger called out to him:
"Excuse , you're Viscount Bartfort, aren't you? This is for you."
The man, dressed as a courier, handed Leon a letter.
"A prisoner nad Anthony requests an audience with you."
Leon took the letter, read it briefly, and muttered:
"A prisoner? And I'm supposed to et him... in a prison? Interesting. I don't even rember seeing prisons here. Hmm, it might be worth a look."
Luxion chid in:
"Why bother going? I'm certain you won't enjoy the conditions of the prisons in this world."
"You may be right," Leon admitted with a thoughtful nod. "But my curiosity's been piqued. Let's hear what this Anthony has to say."
---
Thirty minutes later, Leon was at the location. The prison was situated on a small floating island near the capital. It resembled a fortress—grim and impenetrable.
At the entrance, a warden greeted him and briefly explained the prison's structure:
"We house all kinds of criminals here: bandits, pirates, drug dealers, and even kingpins. Strict rules ensure they stay in line."
As Leon walked down the corridors, he observed the prisoners. The facility was harsh—narrow, dimly lit cells, minimal comforts, and cold stone walls.
He eventually reached the cell that housed Anthony, the prisoner who had sent the letter. Inside, Leon saw a massive man with a large, corpulent fra. His face was rugged, almost carved from stone, with harsh features and a grim expression that made him look like a fearso thug.
Anthony noticed Leon and imdiately approached the bars.
"You're the Viscount?" he asked in a low, slightly trembling voice.
"Yes," Leon replied curtly, crossing his arms. His gaze remained cold and distant. "I'm here to hear your request. Speak plainly."
Anthony stared at Leon for a few monts, as if debating whether to begin. Finally, he spoke:
"Do you know what they say on the outside?" His voice was tense. "On your first day in prison, pick the biggest, scariest inmate in the yard... and beat him up. That way, the others will leave you alone."
Leon frowned slightly, not expecting such an opening.
At that mont, Anthony's voice quavered. He lowered his gaze, and tears began to stream down his face. His massive fra visibly trembled.
"I just wish people would stop beating up on their first day," he said, his voice cracking. Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks as he struggled to speak through the sobs.
"Yes, I know I'm big and look scary, but damn it, I'm only here for mail fraud!"
Leon froze, stunned by the turn of events. His expression reflected utter confusion, but he remained silent, listening intently.
"I don't even know how to fight," Anthony continued. "I'm this fat because of stress. When I'm nervous, I eat. A lot. It's my curse."
He gestured at his large belly, his fingers nervously tugging at his clothes.
"My mom always said the only thing bigger than my stomach is my heart," he added with a weak smile, wiping his tears with the back of his hand.
Anthony sighed heavily, his voice trembling as he continued to pour his heart out:
"Things have gotten so bad that even the Aryan Brotherhood tries to stop people from hitting . Can you imagine? It's unbearable."
He looked at Leon with a desperate plea in his eyes:
"If you could convince the warden to warn new prisoners not to attack , it would an the world to ."
Then, almost in a whisper, as if afraid others might hear, he added:
"Please, don't hit . I really can't take it anymore."
His voice shook, and he seed on the verge of a breakdown. He lowered his head and murmured softly:
"My hands shake so much now that it's hard to knit."
Leon, bewildered, stared at him.
"Knit?"
Anthony nodded and suddenly produced two knitting needles and a ball of yarn from his cell. His large fingers deftly worked the threads, creating intricate patterns.
"I make scarves for all the new inmates. How can anyone punch soone who gives them handmade seasonal accessories?" he said bitterly, continuing to knit.
Leon, struck by the absurdity and sincerity of Anthony's story, remained silent for a while. He hadn't expected to find soone like this behind bars—a man who looked intimidating but was gentle and deeply vulnerable inside.
Finally, he sighed and spoke:
"Fine. I'll talk to the warden. Maybe sothing can be done."
Anthony's face lit up with a weak but genuine smile.
"Thank you... thank you so much, Viscount," he said, his voice trembling with relief.
Leon didn't respond. He simply turned and walked toward the warden, pondering how strange and cruel this world was, where even the kindest souls could beco targets of ridicule and abuse.
---
Hi everyone, I just wanted to share sothing with you. In February, I'll start writing my third fanfiction.
I want you to choose which one you'd prefer:
The first one is based on One Punch Man. The twist is that Saitama will have hair, and he won't one-shot everyone. He'll rely more on martial arts. The story will begin before the Hero Association was founded. In fact, the plot is already mapped out up to around Chapters 10-20.
The second one is based on the novel and manhwa The Extra's Academy Survival Guide. For this one, I only have the beginning for now, but I can't share it just yet since I need to interpret it properly. However, if you like the second idea, I'll reveal more in the next Chapter.
Well, that's all for now. See you in 24 hours!
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