Chapter 18

In regular cells, inmates only wore handcuffs under special circumstances. However, for the inmates in Block 1, handcuffs were placed on them as soon as they left their cells and were only removed during yard time or work periods.

Opening the door to the small conference room, Caleb walked in.

"Go ahead and take off his handcuffs," he told the other correctional officer.

The man hesitated. "Is that really a good idea?"

"It's fine. I'll take responsibility if anything goes wrong," Caleb replied.

After his handcuffs were removed, Marcus rubbed his wrists as he followed Caleb into the conference room. This time, he didn't sit at the back but took a seat in the front row.

"Thank you, Officer Johnson," he said, turning to Caleb.

Instead of responding, Caleb opened the Inmate Regulations booklet and began reading.

The purpose of this educational class was less about imparting knowledge and more about gauging Marcus' attitude. The goal wasn't to achieve a deep, moral, or spiritual transformation of the inmate but to see if his behavior had changed. If he continued to show defiance, he would be sent back to solitary confinement.

Once he read through the sections on fighting and brawling as per protocol, Caleb looked up at Marcus and asked, "Do you understand all of this?"

Marcus appeared somewhat bored, as if he hadn't been paying much attention, but replied, "Yes."

Marcus' response somewhat reassured Caleb. Otherwise, he wouldn't have allowed the correctional officer to remove Marcus' handcuffs. Closing the booklet, Caleb moved to the front of the desk, leaning against the edge with his hands folded over his chest.

He looked at Marcus and said, "Your sentence is short, so you'll be out soon. It's not worth causing trouble in prison."

"Yeah," Marcus responded, his gaze drifting over Caleb's legs.

Caleb's posture with his legs slightly stretched forward made them appear exceptionally long. His uniform trousers accentuated his naturally straight legs, giving off a strong, striking presence.

Noticing Marcus' gaze, Caleb frowned slightly. "Are you listening to me?"

"I am," Marcus said, meeting Caleb's eyes. "I can multitask."

That admission was a clear sign that Marcus had been distracted.

A vein throbbed on Caleb's forehead as he asked, "Why are you multitasking?"

Marcus lifted his right hand and tapped his temple with his index finger. "I can't help it."

Caleb's rising frustration dissipated almost immediately after hearing that. He understood that feeling all too well—how his mind would uncontrollably analyze others or how he would unconsciously reach for the telescope to spy on Marcus' in his home.

Sometimes, it seemed like the subconscious mind operated independently of the conscious self.

Choosing not to press the matter further, Caleb returned to stand behind the desk and changed the topic, asking, "Why did you learn how to fight?"

He actually wanted to ask about boxing, but that would have revealed too much about himself, so he opted for a safer approach.

Marcus' punches were disciplined, indicating that he was well-trained. Among the inmates convicted of financial crimes Caleb had encountered, none had displayed such skill in fighting. Marcus' prowess in combat was on par with that of the most dangerous inmates.

"Do you really want to know?" Marcus asked.

Caleb raised an eyebrow. "Is it a secret?"

"Not exactly." Marcus smiled. "It's because some people just need a beating."

"Like who?"

Marcus didn't seem interested in delving deeper into the topic. But he noticed Caleb waiting for more details, so he finally sighed and said, "Like those who laugh at me for not being able to read."

Caleb was taken aback by that answer.

"You can read, right?"

"Yes. It's just difficult. The way words appear to me is different from how they appear to others, but I do recognize some of them."

People with reading disabilities perceived spatial arrangements differently, which often led to quicker thinking. However, such mental agility was hard to demonstrate, and being "illiterate" provided a more tangible impression.

In Caleb's view, a normal adult wouldn't mock someone for their reading difficulties.

Recalling that Marcus only had a high school education, he guessed, "Did you fight with your classmates?"

"Yes. That's why I frequently changed schools. I was the 'problem child' in the eyes of my teachers," Marcus replied.

Caleb suddenly recalled an old saying—preaching tolerance when one didn't understand someone else's pain was rude. Emotions were different for each person, and it was rather presumptuous to tell someone to rise above their troubles without understanding their situation.

He had no grounds to judge whether Marcus' actions were right or wrong.

Still, given the current situation, he said, "The prison environment is quite unique. Sometimes, it's best to tolerate things."

Marcus chuckled. "I told you I'll listen to you, Officer Johnson."

In contrast to Caleb's seriousness, Marcus seemed relaxed. Caleb couldn't help but think that he was worrying over nothing.

Just then, Marcus added, "By the way, I've shared my story with you. Shouldn't you share something about yourself too?"

"My experiences are rather ordinary," Caleb replied.

His family was well-off, and his parents had a good relationship. Although he was more curious than most, he was very aware of where his boundaries lay.

"Don't you have any special hobbies?" Marcus asked.

Caleb's internal alarm bells went off. He was certain Marcus wasn't asking this casually.

Taking the initiative, Caleb looked at Marcus calmly and said, "Don't you already know?"

Marcus raised an eyebrow slightly, clearly surprised by Caleb's response. His eyes glinted with keen interest as he smirked slightly and said, "I'm not sure."

It seemed that Caleb wasn't completely exposed yet.

Caleb had learned to play Marcus' game—intentionally dropping a hint to lure a person in, then extracting the desired information from them. It appeared this tactic was quite effective.

Caleb glanced at his watch. "It's almost time. You should head back."

Finally, Caleb marked Marcus' assessment sheet with a "Pass".

-

As soon as the clock struck twelve, Marcus reappeared in the library. He settled back into his usual spot by the window, engrossed in his comics. Today, however, the other inmates automatically steered clear of him.

Caleb glanced around the quiet library. Seeing that everyone was quietly engrossed in their books, he idly pulled up the surveillance software and checked the footage from the adjacent recreational room.

Caleb didn't monitor the footage every day. Since inmates had to pass by the library entrance to get to the recreational room, he could usually gauge what was happening there just by a quick glance at the people going in.

If it was just smoking or card games, he wouldn't bother checking. But if an unexpected group gathered, the situation might be different.

For instance, two people had gone to the recreational room together today. One of them was a young thug who had been imprisoned around the same time as Marcus—the one who had once made a pass at Caleb.

The other was the infamous "Princess" in Southern Prison. A big man earning such a nickname was obviously related to his dissolute nature, but few men dared to provoke him in prison as he was Samuel's "woman".

When Marcus had beaten Nine until the latter had to be released on medical parole, Samuel had ignored it. However, if anyone dared to lay a finger on Princess, it would be considered as crossing Samuel's boundaries.

Those who had spent some time in prison knew better than to mess with Princess. Only fresh-faced inmates like the young thug, unaware of the rules, would be foolish enough to approach Samuel's "woman".

The two men quickly engaged in activities too explicit to describe. Caleb felt a moment of pity for the young thug as he turned off the surveillance footage.

Anyone Princess set his sights on would face one of two fates—either they slept with Princess and had to face the consequences from Samuel for having touched what was his, or they didn't sleep with Princess and were still punished by Samuel for daring to disrespect him.

In any case, being noticed by Princess meant becoming a thorn in Samuel's side. Princess himself, however, thrived on the chaos he stirred. He took pleasure in provoking Samuel's anger.

Caleb had once wondered why Samuel seemed exclusively devoted to Princess, despite there being other inmates who were interested in Samuel. He later learned the reason—anyone who dared to show interest in Samuel would find themselves in even worse trouble when Princess dealt with them.

When Caleb first transferred to Southern Prison, he had merely exchanged a few words with Samuel. However, Princess had closely watched him for an entire week. It was only after realizing Caleb had no interest in Samuel that Princess stopped frequenting the library.

If Caleb had to make a comparison, Samuel was somewhat better than Princess. At least he didn't go out of his way to harm innocent people.

About ten minutes later, the library's back door swung open and Princess walked in. Caleb glanced towards the front door and saw the young thug leaving as he pulled his pants up. It seemed their business was concluded.

But why was Princess in the library in the first place? The last time Princess came here, it was to keep an eye on Caleb.

Now, in this quiet space...

Caleb's senses sharpened as he saw Princess heading straight for Marcus.

The library had long tables and plenty of seats, so strangers typically wouldn't sit together. But Princess made a beeline for Marcus and sat down next to him, propping his chin on his hand as he stared unashamedly at the other man.

Marcus shifted slightly, glancing at Princess with a blank expression before returning his focus to his comic book.

The library was eerily quiet, so Caleb could hear Princess speaking softly to Marcus.

"Hey, cutie, you're so manly."

When Princess said "manly," he pressed his lips together, then slowly parted them to release a puff of hot breath.

Marcus frowned, looking at Princess with a mixture of confusion and annoyance. "Do you need something?"

"You're the one who did that to Eric's hand, right?" Princess leaned in, his elbow resting low as he tilted his chin up to gaze at Marcus.

"So what if I did?" Marcus retorted.

Caleb's brow furrowed in frustration.

Why was Marcus being so compliant with answering Princess' questions?

"You're impressive," Princess said, raising his other hand and sliding his fingers down Marcus' shoulder. "Can you teach me?"

Princess was practically undressing Marcus with his eyes.

Unable to tolerate it any longer, Caleb slammed the newspaper on the table.

Frowning, he spoke in Princess' direction, "Be quiet."