Sir! Don't close the net!

"What the hell! Do they think that rookie would dare leave his cell? Especially during the most dangerous time in this prison? And standing in front of someone else's cell like he's on patrol?!"

The jailer, growing increasingly angry, couldn't help but mutter a curse.

"I've said it before, adaptation isn't about making things up randomly."

Bishop Azazel is really something! Why not just create a demon's henchman like he always does? Why did he have to make up a King in Yellow?!

The jailer took a deep breath, rubbed his forehead, and exhaled a long breath.

"I'm going to be incredibly busy from now on."

Chris Dorf looked with some concern at the prison that surrounded the entire Theresa Road.

Rumors are not scary; what's scary is the people who react to them.

Imprisoned here are not only the King in Yellow, but also many of the demons' henchmen whom Bishop Azawi called the devil's minions, now known as the King in Yellow.

Yesterday's scream and the horrific scene in the cell have already spread among the prisoners, and soon those madmen will take action.

Chris Dorf felt some sympathy for the King in Yellow. He thought the jailer was right; such a weak person would never have the courage to leave the safe cell at the most dangerous time. But the news had already spread, and those inhuman madmen would not allow someone they had never heard of to step on their heads and become their king.

Chris sighed.

It seems the story of the King in Yellow will come to an end in the next couple of days.

Chapter Seven: The King in Yellow wrapped his raincoat tighter.

Li Yili bent down, picked up the not-so-plump fruit, and tossed it gently.

The absurd god doesn't care whether your body is perfect or not. If you don't offer any tribute, the absurd god won't mind coming to your doorstep to see you and showing you the absurd god's tolerant nature.

That plant girl probably had such thoughts, and her painful act of picking the fruit satisfied the tolerant King in Yellow, who then left. And then... the tolerance of the absurd god is limited. What will happen when the absurd god becomes intolerant?

The piercing sound of chewing gave everyone the answer.

And everyone resisted speculating further on this answer.

Li Yili recalled the painful expression on the plant girl's face when she picked fruit.

The fruit will fall off after it ripens, but the fruit in his hand is nowhere near plump.

He's absolutely a scumbag.

What's even more despicable is that his heart wasn't stirred at all. Even when he recalled the image of the plant girl, his attention couldn't be focused on her emaciated body. All he could see were the plants rooted in the entire cell.

Because that's what the plant girl really looked like, just like those faceless people.

Even humans will lend a helping hand to a little flower about to be swallowed by sewage, and will bring a handful of clean water to a plant that is about to wither. No matter how heartless humans are to their fellow humans, they cannot always ignore a child who is as thin as a rake.

The combination of these two factors brought Li Yili nothing but unimaginable disgust and resistance. Normally, he would have already swaggered up to that plant-like girl and tried to make the seemingly pitiful girl laugh. Then he might have chatted and joked with the sponge man who had been so frightened by him on the first day that he had broken his bones. And then...

They might wander from cell to cell.

But now all he wanted to do was wrap himself tightly in this yellow raincoat he loathed and wished he could shove it down the drain and flush it away, and use those few minutes of terror in this hellish Teresa Prison to play the role of the Yellow King, the one who would allow him to survive in this hell.

"This is terrible..."

Li Yili opened her mouth and bit into the unripe fruit, her eyes slightly gleaming as she stared at the small window on the wall, waiting for time to pass.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Simon closed his eyes, covered his head, took a few deep breaths, and then forced himself to rush through the cell door.

Of course, if he had a choice, he would never want to pass through this person's world, but unfortunately his cell was number one, and to leave this floor he had to pass through this person's cell door.

He had considered jumping off the building, but this was the highest floor. If he jumped, he would either die or lose his mobility. What would losing mobility in Teresa Prison mean?

He had seen it countless times with his own eyes.

"Perhaps... I'm being favored by the King in Yellow..."

Simon resisted the urge to turn around and check the situation. He carefully moved to the front of cell number three and waved his sponge arm, which was covered by a white membrane, up and down through the cell door.

"Gazi—Gazi—are you still alive?!"

The next second, a face made of mud emerged from the cell door and growled at Simon in a low voice, "Are you crazy! Aren't you afraid of disturbing Lord Huang?! That troublemaker died a horrible death yesterday! Don't drag me into this! Waaah—I really want to change cells, and! My name is Gajek!"

After roaring, the face made of mud turned its head in terror to look at the wall and moved in the opposite direction.

“I know, I know, but we still have to prepare offerings,” Simon said in a low voice, swaying his spongy body. “We’re going down to mine the temple again in a week, and we need to figure out what to do with Sif’s share!”

Gajek is a solidified body made of mud.

"Gazi?"

“No, it’s nothing,” Gajekt waved to Simon through the gap in the cell door. “Let’s go.”

Simon tilted his head, muttered a few words, and then followed Gajek, greeting each prisoner in the cells before finally arriving at cell number thirteen.

As soon as Simon arrived at the cell, he anxiously knelt down in front of the cell door and called out to the emaciated, plant-like girl inside.

"Sif, are you alright?!"

The girl, curled up, raised her head and forced a smile at her strangely shaped fellow inmates outside the cell door.

"I'm fine. Yesterday, the King in Yellow was just passing by and reminded me not to make any noise. It's all my fault. If I hadn't been so complacent, this wouldn't have happened."

“The King in Yellow will understand you,” Simon quickly said.

Gajek, who was behind Simon, turned his head and muttered under his breath, "I told you not to take any chances."

Sif lowered her head with a wry smile.

Okay—

Simon stood in front of Gajek, waving his hands up and down.

"The important thing now is what to do next!"

Upon hearing this, Sif immediately looked nervously at the few unripe fruits hanging in front of her and stammered, "I will try my best..."

"Come on, with that little bit of nutrition, how much fruit can you possibly produce?" Before Simon could speak, Gajek spoke first, his mud-based body slamming into Simon and pushing him aside. "Don't overthink it, this guy will figure something out."

Simon blinked and immediately raised his arm.

"That's right, that's right—so Sif, you don't need to worry!"

Shoving and pushing by Gajek, Simon was quickly pushed to the stairwell leading to the next floor. Halfway down, Simon stopped in his tracks, his teeth chattering.

"Speaking of which, this is the first time you've seen this before, right? Don't worry about it, just tremble."

The body, formed from Czech mud, stretched out, its gaze leaping over Simon and looking down.

At the end of the stairs, strange bloodstains spread across the ground like the claws of a ferocious beast, but they were by no means the claw marks left by some wild animal to mark its territory. Such a twisted beast could not possibly exist in this world.

"Everyone else is hiding out of fear, but I'm the only one who will come here with you."

"Cough—who, who's afraid? If you've done nothing wrong, you have nothing to fear. My respect for the King in Yellow is genuine, so why should I be afraid!"

Simon coughed loudly, shook his head nonchalantly, and walked down the stairs, but quickly dodged just before touching the [Claw Mark]. He then looked at Gajek, who was following behind him, with a guilty expression.

"So... I won't laugh at you."

"Cough-cough-"

Simon coughed heavily a few times, and his sponge-like body, made of white membrane, trembled twice like waves before leaping forward.

Let's go—

After a pause, Gajek paused and his body, made of mud, contracted twice.

"Thank you for your help this time too."

"Thorn-"

The white membrane ruptured, blood splattered everywhere, and spongy flesh fell off in several pieces.

Chapter Eight: Li Yili Testing the Waters

"Hahaha—Simon, although you're a weakling, your meat is the best in this prison."

The prisoner, whose head resembled a praying mantis but whose body coiled like a snake around the ground, used his tail to pick up a piece of flesh that was curled up on the ground and was still bleeding. He waved it at Simon, who was clutching his arm, and then looked at Gajek, who was huddled in the distance, and smiled disdainfully.

“You don’t need to hide so far away. I have no interest in tasting a guy like you who has no bones inside and out and is just like mud.”

"Yes, yes, yes—"

Gajek rubbed his hands together and gave an awkward, apologetic smile.

There was no way around it; the prisoner in front of them, who looked like some kind of genetic failure, was Mamaka, a member of the most troublesome carnivorous group in Teresa Prison.

They are already very lucky to be able to sacrifice a small portion of their interests to make a deal like this; other groups, referred to as "meat," are usually swallowed whole by them.

After all, they were at the top of the food chain in Theresa Prison.

"Ha—with guys like you around, life in Theresa's prison is much more comfortable than outside."

Mamaka laughed and tossed the tightly clenched chunk of meat into his mouth, biting down hard. His sharp jaws snapped open and pierced the meat with a piercing tearing sound. The tightly clenched meat was quickly torn apart, and Mamaka opened his mouth wide again to swallow the torn piece of meat.

With a hint of regret, it glanced at the other tightly huddled pieces of meat on the ground, raised its tail, tossed a package onto Gajek, rolled up the remaining pieces of meat, and swaggered away.

Simon, who had been motionless until Mamaka had completely disappeared, finally came to his senses and sat down on the ground with a thud, his left arm, which was covering his wound, hanging limply.

Gajek cautiously approached Simon. Although the bleeding had stopped, the huge wound still made Gajek gasp and curse under his breath in frustration.

"That guy Mamaka actually chopped off your arm, which is different from what we agreed on!"

"It doesn't matter, it'll grow back soon anyway—"

"..."

"Anyway, I'm not going to help you get revenge, so just join in the cursing," Gajek complained as he unpacked the package Mamaka had tossed him. The meager supplies made Gajek mutter another curse, "Bastard—"

"What's wrong? Isn't there enough to share?"

Simon approached nervously, but before he could even see the contents of the package, Gajek simply stuffed it into his stomach and quickly moved away from Simon.

"It's nothing—as usual, I will distribute these supplies fairly."

"As expected of the accountant! I'm counting on you as always!"

"...Haha—don't be polite, and to be precise, I'm a lawyer."

Gajek

He laughed and waved his hand, which was made of mud.

Gajek did not intend to distribute the supplies fairly, nor did he intend to share them with the other prisoners.