Murder, arson, and theft on top of it all.
Some might ask why we even let a bastard like this live.
And fair enough— in modern society, the ultimate punishment was the death penalty.
But this was a brutal dark fantasy world.
Life in prison was far more agonizing than death.
‘And the odds of ever getting out? Less than twenty percent.’
Especially for long-term inmates serving in ten-year increments, more than half emerged crippled.
Yet sending a scum like Bassett straight to the guillotine?
Such merciful judgment shouldn’t be handed down to a heinous criminal.
‘He needs to taste hell.’
Besides, there was another reason I absolutely had to lock this bastard away.
He was the monster who had wiped out an entire village.
And now this guy gets caught for mere theft and starts whining about injustice?
“It’s strange. Way too strange.”
“What part do you mean, Your Highness?”
I had muttered to myself without thinking, and Baron Lelbrant’s voice came from beside me.
I was currently on my way to see Bassett, locked up in prison.
First, I’d let him get a little taste of hell, then scatter some bait.
If I dangled a plea deal, he’d confess everything soon enough.
“No, it’s nothing. How’s Bassett doing?”
“With a sixty-year sentence, we didn’t give him any special treatment. We just shipped him off to the Erset Mine.”
“That should be plenty.”
The Capital Corrections Headquarters had three labor sites.
The first was the quarry and wall repairs— the easiest by far.
Next came the nearby open-pit mines.
That used to be it, but a new, far harsher site had just been added.
They had recently reopened the long-closed Erset Mine as the latest labor camp.
With unstable ground like that, casualties were bound to be massive.
Naturally, that’s where you send the scum whose deaths wouldn’t matter.
Clang!
“Here we are, Your Highness.”
“Thank you.”
Baron Lelbrant personally unlocked the iron door.
A sour stench hit me at once, along with a cloud of dust.
The conditions were so abysmal, it was hard to believe people could survive here.
And this was a newly constructed building, no less.
They had probably built it this way on purpose.
After all, this world didn’t give a damn about the human rights of violent criminals.
Thud, thud.
“C-164. Get up.”
Baron Lelbrant kicked the limp man lightly with his foot.
His tone was sternly formal— a stark contrast to how he spoke to me.
The disheveled man, bound in heavy restraints, weakly lifted his head.
He had lost his name and was now just C-164.
The heinous criminal, Bassett.
Soon, his gaze slowly shifted.
From Baron Lelbrant to me.
“Gaaah!”
Clang!
The bastard started thrashing violently.
Of course he would— I was the one who had buried him in prison for sixty years. How could he not go mad and rage?
But I just waited coldly for his outburst to end.
‘So what are you going to do about it?’
Heavy restraints and chains bound his entire body tightly.
Bassett could only scream.
He couldn’t lay a finger on me.
Well, there was one filthy thing left.
“Ptoo!”
He tried to spit phlegm.
But his action didn’t last.
Smack!
“Ptoo! Gah!”
Baron Lelbrant swiftly smacked him across the head.
Bassett collapsed limply, drooling spit.
“My apologies for the unsightly display. I thought he’d be somewhat reformed by now.”
“It’s only been three days. He hasn’t tasted enough of prison yet.”
“I’ll make sure he’s properly educated by your next visit.”
“He seems dead set on taking all the blame alone, but I’m not sure he’ll get the chance.”
“Well, if he keeps his mouth shut, he’ll either rot there for sixty years or die first.”
Shff.
At that moment, Bassett raised his head.
He must have picked up something from the conversation between me and Baron Lelbrant.
Soon, he spoke in a cracked voice.
“If I confess something, you’ll let me out?”
“Guess the madness makes him bold with nonsense.”
“It sounded like you wanted me to talk.”
“Sharp when it counts. But drop any hope of walking free. I don’t make empty promises.”
“Then… a plea deal?”
“Quick on the uptake, huh? If it’s good enough, I could knock it down to thirty years. How’s that sound?”
It had to be tempting.
His sentence cut in half, after all.
At the realistic offer, Bassett’s eyes gleamed.
As if he were already tasting release.
‘He’s hooked.’
If I’d just said I’d let him go free, he might not have bitten.
It was too unbelievable.
But a reduction to thirty years at most? That felt possible.
That’s why he was leaning in so eagerly.
“What do you want?”
“Simple. The truth.”
“Huh?”
“You didn’t steal that flour just because you were hungry. Right?”
“||”
Bassett tilted his head, then his expression hardened in an instant.
What good idea could come from a heinous criminal’s brain?
He probably thought I wanted him to frame someone.
But what I wanted was the full story behind the flour theft.
“So spit it out.”
“How can I trust you’ll keep your word?”
“You’re already being punished. You’ve got nothing to lose. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?”
“…Fine.”
Bassett nodded with a resolute look.
And what came out of his mouth next…
Was rather shocking.
‘Ha! So that’s how you’re playing it?’
Bassett had colluded with some unidentified figure on one scheme.
Intercepting every order coming from the Carius duchy.
That flour was all supposed to go to Midias to be used as paper material.
You needed wheat paste to bind the fibers, after all.
‘They were trying to sabotage my business. But who?’
In the capital, only two people would pull something like this.
Duke Planger Sierre, who recently had to send his heir to prison.
Duke Diandre Giovanni, indirectly losing out from hanji’s release.
The former seemed like he’d have an obvious motive.
‘But something tells me it’s not him.’
Counterattacking like this right after Skyler got hit with a heavy sentence?
Duke Sierre wasn’t that stupid.
He was ruthless enough to abandon his own son the moment the family was threatened.
He’d know this was the time to lie low.
“Then the latter’s more likely.”
Duke Diandre Giovanni and I were just distant acquaintances.
The only real clash? He’d pulled strings with the former corrections chief to get Skyler released.
But that was really the Sierre side’s request, so it was hard to call it a grudge.
‘Which makes him even more suspicious.’
Criminals often pop up from unexpected places.
If the goal was disrupting hanji production, suspecting Duke Giovanni made sense.
Of course, I had no solid evidence yet— just my gut.
“Wait, if that’s the case, hanji production should be delayed by now.”
Stealing the flour via Bassett should have caused issues.
But there were no reports from the papermaking factory.
The reason was simple.
The paste for paper didn’t require high-quality wheat or massive quantities.
You could just buy whatever was available on the market.
‘So they figured out flour goes into hanji making?’
This was probably just a probing attack.
They wanted to see my reaction if the flour supply got disrupted.
“Then I can turn this around and use it against them.”
The Carius duchy had been buzzing lately.
They’d sent people everywhere to secure good flour.
Similar movements showed up in Midias’s markets.
Notices even went up saying they’d accept flour in lieu of gold coins.
And the steadily increasing hanji supply had suddenly dried up.
“There must be a major issue at the papermaking factory.”
“Oh? Is that so?”
A corpulent man with jewel-encrusted bracelets on his arms.
At the butler’s report, Count Coplin grinned slyly.
Lately, that bastard’s paper had tanked his parchment sales to less than half.
His fellow Giovanni faction nobles were shooting him worried looks.
Wondering if he couldn’t even host parties anymore for lack of funds.
“Those rat-like bastards. They’re pros at sneaky retaliation.”
He looked dull on the surface, but Count Coplin was sharp.
How many years had he spent in imperial parliament? He could spot the subtle jabs.
If parchment stopped selling, he could just pivot to other leather goods.
Still, the losses were unavoidable.
The money already invested wasn’t coming back.
“We can’t keep going like this forever. Time to try something else.”
A long tail gets stepped on eventually.
When Bassett got caught, he should have wrapped things up cleanly.
Besides, stealing flour alone couldn’t stop paper production.
The Carius duke would surely find a workaround.
Then the butler spoke up again.
“I hear they’re sourcing yellow dye from Midias now. Like the flour, they’re offering to pay in gold— and recently—”
“Really? Isn’t the south famous for dye?”
“Yes, Count Schultz imports it regularly.”
“Heh heh! Looks like we can land another blow.”
Count Schultz was in the same Giovanni faction.
If he asked for all the yellow dye, Schultz would hand it over gladly.
Even if it disrupted paper production, no big deal.
“He can make it up another way.”
Count Schultz dealt in all sorts of goods— would one missing paper product ruin him?
Count Coplin nodded, satisfied.
“Hurry and go. Tell him we’ll buy the entire stock for a while.”
“Yes.”
It already felt like a nagging tooth had been pulled.
Soon, parchment would sell like before.
And if he poached the out-of-work artisans, he could even open his own papermaking factory.
“Just imagining it sends thrills down my spine.”
The Carius duke’s knack for creating new things was admirable.
But failing to protect your interests just meant handing victories to others.
“The straight path isn’t the only right one, but he’s naive. Consider this a life lesson.”
Count Coplin sank into the sofa, gulping wine.
Yet no matter how long he waited, the butler didn’t return with results.
It was already late afternoon.
Feeling something off, Count Coplin heaved his massive frame up.
He was about to send a servant to check what was going on.
But right then.
Bang! Crash!
The office door burst open violently, and a group stormed in.
“W-What is this outrage!”
Count Coplin bellowed, eyes bulging.
His flushed face wasn’t just from the alcohol.
Who would dare such rudeness?
In Coplin territory, no less.
But the intruders didn’t flinch at his roar.
“Are you Count Jeff Coplin?”
“Can’t you see for yourself?”
“Just formal procedure. No chance of mistake— after all, you’re the one with the most… impressive figure in parliament.”
“You rotten bastard— Oh? You’re that wet-behind-the-ears prosecutor from the Siers family. Is that what your father taught you!”
There was only one prosecutor from the Siers family.
Corbin curled his lips into a cold smile, eyes glinting.
“You’ll be coming with this ‘wet-behind-the-ears’ today.”
“Where?”
“Where else? The detention center. Take him.”
“W-What did you say? This is impossible! Guards! Guards!”
He thrashed wildly, but the security officers’ grip was merciless.
In the end, Count Coplin was trussed up like a captured boar and hauled off to the prosecutor’s headquarters.