CHAPTER 15 – GOD, I REALLY HATE THIS PLACE.

2026. PRESENT. SEOUL.

HELL MORGATHOR PRISON.

☠️ SORA ☠️

I’m fading into the wallpaper as much as I can when Jane suddenly pulls me into a corner.

“I said fade into the wallpaper, not dramatically get glued to the wall, you are making yourself more obvious,” she laments in frustration, illustrating with her hands. “You’re sticking to the wall, dramatically dragging yourself on the wall. Everyone is looking at you, acting insane!”

“You said fade into the wallpaper!” I yell back, frustrated myself. “How do I fade into the wallpaper if I don’t stick to it?”

Now I'm whispering to myself, “I’ve never in my twenty years on earth tried to be invisible, it’s just not my thing. I suck at it.”

“Yup! You suck at it,” Jane whispers to herself also, although we can hear each other just fine. “You not dying in this prison is so Mission Impossible.”

“That’s what I said. You’re finally accepting our fate,” I scoff, pushing myself off the wall. “Whatever, I’m going to eat.”

“Remember…” Jane begins, but I cut her off.

“Fade into the wallpaper, become a part of the furniture… I get it.”

She shakes her head, pointing at me, “No, you don’t get it. I mean metaphorically, not literally sticking to the wall or standing in a corner like furniture. I mean, be invincible, don’t lock eyes with anyone, and keep your annoying, ridiculously proud, Don head low!”

“J? if I survive this prison… I’m killing you first. You’ve disrespected me so much, and I’m not going to have it.”

Jane storms off, and so do I.

☠️

I pick up a tray just like everyone else, and I’m standing in line respectfully. I look back to find Jane at the end of the line, looking at me from behind, and as our eyes meet, we both roll our eyes in total disgust.

The line is extremely long, and I feel like I’m going to collapse from the pain in my knees. I bend and support my knees with my hands, and an idiot pushes me from behind. I bump into a man in front. He looks back angrily, and I immediately look back too.

When it finally gets to my turn, I hold out my tray, and as the prison's kitchen attendant is about to scoop rice into my tray, someone cuts in line, basically pushing me aside, totally away from the line. The scooped rice lands in the flood in a loud splash.

I gawk angrily at the FOOL who just dared to push me, and from the corner of my eyes, I catch Jane waving at me in an attempt to communicate with me. I don’t look at her; I concentrate fully on my fury and hunger for justice.

“You just cut in line,” I say with the last self-restraint left in me.

“Fuck off!” the FOOL says with zero accountability and remorse. Every willpower to be invincible and out of everyone’s face snaps. I gawk at the Japanese-looking rat who has king boldly and visibly tattooed on his body, with eyebrows that make him look angry, fitting his ugly personality.

I throw away the tray and walk closer to him, he’s looking down at me… but that’s fine. Compared to him, I’m his waist height, and that’s probably why he looked down on me and shoved me off the line.

I clench my teeth together as I speak, “I’ve been standing in line, with semi-broken knees, to hustle for food, and when it finally gets to my turn, you crawled out of heaven knows what hell, and shoved me off line? You think that because you tattooed 'king' on your rotten flesh, you are an actual king? I’ve seen more authority in a stray cat than I can see in all six-foot-plus of your wasted potential. You look like someone tried to build a man out of spare parts and anger, then forgot to give him a purpose. A monument of muscle and ink, and you’ve still managed to rule over absolutely nothing but a thin mattress and a stainless steel toilet…”

I point at his eyebrows with my index finger, snarling, “…You can stop trying to knit a sweater with those eyebrows; we already know you are angry. It’s the only personality trait you have. Those eyebrows don’t make you look dangerous; they make you look like you’re trying to read a menu written in a language you don’t understand. You have the exact facial expression of a man who was insulted by a brick wall and is still trying to think of a comeback...”

Slowly, my finger goes down to his muscles, and I almost hit it, “…All that heavy lifting and for what? You’re the strongest man in a room where the door only opens from the outside. A whole lot of ‘man’ with nowhere to go. You’re just a mountain of meat waiting for a bell to tell you when to eat. You’re not a threat; you’re an ornament. A giant, tattooed paperweight that keeps the floor from floating away. Go ahead, flex. Maybe if you get big enough, you’ll finally be able to squeeze your ego into your cell.”

“Do you know who I am?” he growls, stepping forward. Now, I’m angrier.

“You tattooed ‘king’ on your chest… so what?” I scream, taking my own step closer in a challenge. “Go ahead, walk closer. Let me see every inch of what I’m about to dismantle. You’ve mistaken my lack of size for a lack of malice. That is the last mistake you’ll ever make in this cage. You look at me and see someone you can crush. I look at you and see five times the target. I don’t care how many reps you can do, how many people you’ve killed, or how angry those brows look; I am going to tear you with an intensity that will make you forget you ever wore a pathetic crown on your chest. I will rain a hell down on you so severe, so merciless, that your ancestors will feel the bruising…”

Now he’s walking even closer to me, and I take two steps back, “If you keep stepping towards me, I will take everything you think makes you a man, and I will break it over my knees. By the time I’m done with you,” I click my tongue with the roof of my mouth, “You won’t need a cell to keep you down… they’ll need a stretcher, ‘king’.”

A prisoner grabs my jacket from behind and ohh he shouldn’t have done that, I face him instead, snapping at him too, so loud, I’m pretty sure the whole of Hell Morgathor prison can hear me, “Take your hands off me before I harvest them and feed them to the ‘king’ over there. I don’t care if you’re trying to save his life or mine… You touch me again… and you’ll be the one they are scraping off the floor. You want to play hero? Great. Get in line. I’ve got enough fury to dismantle both of you, and I don’t mind starting with the idiot who thought it was a good idea to grab my jacket. Mind your own pathetic business before I decide you’re part of the problem.”

A correctional officer blows a whistle, and other prison guards walk towards us, surrounding us. The kitchen assistants pack the food, and eating gets cancelled for the whole day, with over a thousand hungry people who haven’t eaten for the day.

I look back to see everyone glaring at me, their brows knitted together in pure hatred, and Jane at the end of the line looking like she is about to shit herself. The self-proclaimed ‘king’ walks towards me. A prison guard puts a rod between us, but it doesn’t stop him from talking.

“What’s your name?” he asks coldly, and I snap back, raising my chin.

“Sora… what would you do about it?”

He nods, “We shall meet again, Sora.”