“Trouble? Those guys are more than just trouble!” Old John sneered, a note of anger in his voice.
“Kid, you’re new here, so maybe you don’t know. Our Asphodel Prison isn’t exactly well-regarded in the entire Holy See Nation.”
“Because we don’t hold criminals here, but ‘non-human females.’ In the eyes of those stubborn, doctrine-obsessed old geezers of the Originalist Faction, we’re nothing but watchdogs living with monsters…”
“If it weren’t for this island’s unique geography and the ‘big fella’ underground being too special, they’d have already burned this place to ashes with holy fire, monsters and all.”
Fan Zhuo listened quietly, knowing that what Old John was about to say next was the real key.
“That’s why our prison’s situation has always been awkward. And those people from the Royal Magic Academy? They’re close to the Originalist Faction. Every time they come, it’s never for research—it’s just to find fault! To write some report that will work against us…”
Whenever enemies were mentioned, the drunken Old John no longer stuttered.
His bleary eyes were shot through with blood.
“If that report ever mentions things like ‘poor management,’ ‘potential security risks,’ or ‘suspected heresy,’ then those folks at the Papal Chamber will have all the justification they need… to cut our funding.”
“Cut our funding?”
“Yeah, but… it’s pointless.” Old John gave a bitter smile and poured himself another brimming glass of wine.
“You think this prison runs on that pitiful annual stipend from the Papal Chamber? I’m telling you, that amount isn’t even enough to change the doors in Zone C and Zone A a few times.”
“Most of our funding actually comes from…” Old John trailed off suddenly.
He cast a wary glance around, then lowered his voice and leaned in so close to Fan Zhuo that the strong smell of alcohol hit him in the face.
“…from some special channels of sponsorship, and from the Lord of Zone A’s own ‘businesses.’ I can’t say more. Just know our finances are extremely, extremely tight. If the funding gets cut again… then…”
Hearing this, Fan Zhuo’s heart sank.
He finally understood the real meaning behind Warden Hecate’s words, “Don’t let them interfere with your research.”
He’d thought he only needed to face Lucien’s troubles and that major ‘exam’ a month from now, a matter of life and death.
But he never expected that beneath this seemingly isolated island prison, there were such complicated currents at play.
“I understand.” Fan Zhuo took a deep breath, his expression growing serious.
Old John took another big swig of wine, the liquid dripping down his scruffy beard.
He paused, a complex look flickering in his muddy eyes.
“You need to be careful… As the new assistant warden, and as Mentor Nolan the Sage’s student… in their eyes, you’re basically a perfect, gleaming target.”
Fan Zhuo said nothing.
Old John was right.
In the eyes of those people eager to make trouble, he, the ‘Exile,’ was the perfect scapegoat handed to them.
“Forget it, talking about this won’t help.” Old John waved his hand irritably. “At worst… we’ll just have to beg the Lord of Zone A for help again.”
At the mention of the ‘Lord of Zone A,’ Old John’s face showed a mix of awe and headache.
“That lord may be eccentric, but at least when it comes to keeping this prison afloat, we’re on the same side.”
Fan Zhuo couldn’t help but picture Hecate’s tall, voluptuous, and oppressive figure in his mind, and those golden eyes that seemed to see through everything.
Since he couldn’t think about the name, at least he could imagine the appearance…
Still, would the warden… really take action?
Fan Zhuo was doubtful.
To him, Hecate seemed more like a lofty observer, interested only in exploring her favorite “specimens.” Relying completely on her seemed far from realistic.
“Enough about these troubles.” Old John shook his head, as if trying to shake off his worries. “Kid, it’s late—what’d you come to see me about?”
Only then did Fan Zhuo remember to state his real reason for coming.
“Old John, I’d like to request a change of room.”
“Change rooms?” Old John frowned.
“Yes,” Fan Zhuo nodded, immediately putting on a troubled expression.
“My current room is too small. For late-night ‘prayer’ and ‘meditation,’ there just isn’t enough space. You know, Judge Lucien has high hopes for me. I have to make the most of every moment to improve myself and not let him down.”
Old John gave him a suspicious look, as if trying to find a flaw in that angelic, overly-holy face.
But he failed.
Fan Zhuo’s expression was even purer than the Angel Statue in the cathedral of the Holy City.
“All right.” Old John didn’t think much of it. His mind was too occupied with the Magic Academy to bother about such small matters.
“The suite next to my office has always been empty. It’s big enough, and quiet enough. You can move in there.”
“Thank you.” Fan Zhuo was overjoyed.
He could finally get rid of Lucien!
“There’s one more thing.” Fan Zhuo struck while the iron was hot.
“The environment in Cell C-19 is far too damp and cold. It’s not good for the ‘emotional stability’ of its occupant. I hope I can request a more suitable cell for her.”
He was referring to Alfea.
“C-19?” Old John froze for a moment, then realized, “You mean that Slime?”
He looked at Fan Zhuo with an odd expression.
“Kid, aren’t you a bit too attached to that Slime?”
Fan Zhuo’s face was calm. “Even if it’s a monster, it still deserves the most basic respect. A good environment helps us better ‘purify’ and ‘guide’ them. It’s also for the stability of the prison.”
Old John opened his mouth to argue, but found he had nothing to say.
What the kid said sounded absurd, yet he’d taken the moral high ground—there wasn’t a flaw to pick at.
“No way!”
But Old John was an old hand, after all. He habitually refused such requests right away.
“Changing a cell requires procedures, forms, reports, and a reassessment of the security level—it’s a huge hassle! Plus, the sunlit cells cost more to maintain than the ones on the shady side, and our funding is tight as it is…”
He started grumbling on and on.
Fan Zhuo listened patiently, waiting until he’d finished before speaking, unhurriedly, “Old John, this time, the Royal Magic Academy people will mainly be working in Zone B, right?”
“Yeah, so what?”
“That forest in Zone B is complex, with all kinds of monsters. If you’re in charge of reception… it’s sure to be a lot of hard work.”
Fan Zhuo gave him a knowing smile.
“How about this time, I handle the entire reception. You’re getting on in years—stay in your office, oversee things, drink some tea, read the paper. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
Old John’s eyes lit up at once.