Waking up from the sound of a crowd marching through the hallways, I find myself lying on the ground.

  Lying towards the side, my position is locked in place by the slab of coal around my hands.

  A sharp pulsating pain is running down my back, like hundreds of needles trying to pluck away at my flesh.

  Trying to move even just a tiny bit results in nothing but more pain, let alone moving these cuffs.

  Every time I blink, my eyes stay closed for a long time; my body wants to rest, but my body screams in pain.

  My head feels like it is spinning, my back is torn apart, and my lungs feel like they are on fire.

  The footsteps echo in my ear like loud thunder; I can't stay focused and concentrate on toughing out the pain.

  Once silence settled itself inside the prison, a faint voice grew ever louder.

  Someone is singing; her voice is slowly filling each corner of my tiny cell.

  Such a calming voice; the longer she sings, the less my pain matters to me.

  My mind at ease, my thoughts quickly falling, all I was focused on was the songstress's soothing voice.

  ...

  When I woke up it was already nightfall or the middle of it.

  Feeling way better, not anywhere near good, let alone healthy, but enough to move around just a bit.

  Slowly managing to move the cuffs around my hands towards my body, followed by sitting my lower half down.

  Using my upper body, I manage to just barely lift the cuffs enough to lower them between my crossed legs.

  With a loud clang, I manage to sit myself upright in a way more comfortable position.

  With my eyes slowly adjusting to the dim light, I look around for a bit.

  There is nothing in here, just 3 walls and a massive iron door with a slit at the bottom, likely to move food through.

  My chest is covered in bandages; they look fresh with a bit of dried blood on them. My wounds must have opened earlier.

  "Hey, one-seven-eight, are you awake?"

  A deep, raspy voice is calling out towards a one-seven-eight in a panicked manner.

  Figuring it might be guards talking, I wait before replying.

  "There was a loud sound. Are you alright? Should I call for a guard?"

  The voice sounds like it comes from across my cell but not directly in front of it; he must be a prisoner.

  "That sound was me; I sat myself upright."

  His voice and tone calmed down quite a bit after I replied.

  "One-seven-eight, are you alright?"

  "My injuries have been treated, and I can move my body a bit; I'm doing alright, I guess, considering I am now government property."

  "Before we continue, why the numbers, and who are you?"

  There was a short silence before I got my questions answered.

  "I overheard the guards giving you that number."

  "Check your clothes; it should be sewn onto them somewhere."

  There is not much there to check; I am basically naked besides some short pants.

  But there it is, on the right side near my waist, a little patch of cloth with the number 178 sewn onto it.

  "As for me, call me one-six-three."

  "One-six-three, don't you have a name?"

  "We talk tomorrow; the days are long and the nights are short. Get some rest."

  He is right; from the looks of it, we might be stuck here for a while... I hope my sister is doing alright.

  As much as I tried avoiding people, at some point there was just no other way around it; we can't produce everything ourselves.

  Especially now that winter is right around the corner, we had to stock up on some clothes and food.

  One night, we wanted to rest at an inn for just one night, sleep, buy some wares and get as far away from Newmans as we could.

  Resting my eyes for just a tiny bit, once I noticed that the air had a strong sweet smell to it, it was already too late.

  People stormed into our room and pinned us down.

  I tried resisting, but mere moments felt like minutes to me, like I myself was only aware for fractions of moments at a time.

  ...

  Thinking about it now won't help me one bit; better to get some shut-eye.

  At the very least I can't wake up to a worse sight than I did today.

  "Good Morning, Sunshine"

  I was wrong; this is somehow way worse.

  Greeting me like a mother would her child, Mare stands in front of my cell, drinking from a metallic cup.

  She was startled a bit upon seeing me sitting upright, almost choking on her drink while taking a sip.

  Behind her are two Newman guards, one male and one female, both seemingly shocked at my sight.

  Their uniforms resembled Mare's strongly, with their key difference being a coloured right shoulder.

  The man's uniform had a white patch on his right shoulder; the woman guard had a red one.

  She was also carrying a backpack with what seemed to be medical supplies.

  Mare hands the male guard her cup and leans onto the doorframe into my cell, looking down on me.

  "Huh."

  "Thought you'd be out cold for another day or two."

  "And you came all the way here to check up on me; how nice of you."

  Mare leans into my face, stopping right before it with a fiendish grin.

  Her smile seemed to go from ear to ear, baring her teeth.

  "I know, aren't I just the nicest?"

  Her stare down only came to an end when another guard was running towards our direction.

  "Miss Mare, we got one with broken chains in the female wing."

  Slowly retracting herself from my cell, she grabs the metallic cup and drinks the rest of whatever was inside it in one go.

  She goes off in a hastened manner, asking in a strict and straightforward tone for more information.

  "Female wing, what district?"

  "It's in the special classification region."

  I could only make out general complaining and the words 'first coffee'.

  Now I just got two slightly frightened guards left in front of me; the big boss is gone.

  "What now?"

  "Going by looks, you came to check up that the government property didn't croak."

  The male guard steps up and raises his voice; he must be masking his fright. He's probably a newcomer.

  "We are going to put new chains on you; afterwards, we will look after your wounds."

  Borrowing from Mare's playbook, I put on a nice smile.

  "How nice of you two."

  "Then go ahead; I promise I won't bite."

  The man reaches into a pocket located at his waistband, grabbing a paintbrush out of it.

  Its handle was made out of wood, while the brush was completely black.

  He puts the brush part into his mouth, soaking it with saliva.

  It now had a red layer on top of it, like he put paint on it in his mouth.

  "One-seven-eight, I will start putting new chains on you."

  "I really mean it; it's in your best interest to stay as still as possible."

  What's with this guy? As soon as he put some spit on a brush, he suddenly acted all confident.

  "Go ahead; it's not like I can move much with this slab of iron between my legs."

  The girl speaks up from behind, trying to correct me.

  "It's coal."

  ...

  They keep saying crystallized coal, but how the hell is *this* supposed to be coal? This thing is just iron with black paint.

  "Listen, kid, I've never seen coal that was not part of a fire. How is this thing supposed to be coal?"

  Staring a bit with her eyes wide open, nudging her head a bit, she replies after thinking for a few seconds.

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  "Mister... are you perhaps a bit stupid?"

  What's up with these two! From frightened to insulting!

  The male of the two chimes in before I can even reply.

  "One-seven-eight, hold still; I am applying the paint now."

  He leans down to me, slowly starting to paint a red line in the middle of my cuffs.

  Once he finishes painting the top and front of them, he cleans the brush with a cloth handed to him by the other guard.

  He takes one last glance at the painted line before speaking just one word.

  "Cut."

  This massive chunk between my legs, these handcuffs that were nothing more than a giant slab of something, split into two, just like that.

  Looking down to my crotch area, taking a few seconds and looking up to the male guardsman who is now putting on a smug face.

  "For the love of Vol, please do not slip up while painting that line."

  "I won't if you don't move around untold."

  Letting out a deep breath of relief, I proclaim my full support for now.

  "Much appreciated!"

  Step by step the man would cut out chunks of the block around my hands.

  In the meantime, the female guardsman put on gloves which she soaked in a liquid she got from her backpack.

  She then started kneading the chunks handed to her; these heavy chunks were like dough for her once she touched them.

  Once the man was almost done with cutting, the female told me to stretch out my right arm.

  Kneading it back onto my arm, covering my wrist up to my elbow with a thin black layer.

  Once the right one was done, she did the same for my left.

  The remaining parts were put into her backpack.

  I've never seen chains like this; there are no chains attached to them to begin with.

  But I can feel it; they are heavy and somewhat pulling in a general direction.

  Going by gut feeling, I'd bet they get heavier the further I get away from a certain position.

  The female guardsman rummages a bit through her backpack, grabbing some scissors, a thick white cloth, a small bottle and some bandages.

  "Get out of the cell and sit down here; I will change your bandages."

  She looks over to her partner, who is standing next to my cell, scolding him with an annoyed tone.

  "Help this guy up, will you!?"

  Baffled, he replies.

  "Why should I help a criminal?"

  They kept arguing for a while before she begrudgingly accepted her plea.

  He went into the cell to help me stand up but not before painting red lines on both my arms, sending a clear signal.

  *Don't try anything.*

  Truth be told, I will take any help I can get right now.

  I was already in pretty rough shape before getting here; it's even worse after that confrontation with Mare.

  My body no longer feels like it is burning up, but I am still far from alright.

  Worst of all is my blue heart; I think it cracked yesterday.

  These cuffs... or rather bracelets now, they eat away at my mana, but I just couldn't keep up.

  I hit my limit yesterday.

  If I am to get out of here, I need at least a bit of rest; if my blue heart cracks even more, I have no chance of getting us out of here.

  The man gently helps me sit down a few steps before my cell; this is the second time I could see this hallway.

  Just at the end of it was my sister, just a few seconds away...

  "Why did you even want me to help this guy?"

  "You know that everyone in here is here for a reason!?"

  The female guard huffs at him and starts cutting into the bandages around my chest.

  "You will see in a second."

  His seemingly endless complaining finally stops once she starts unravelling the bandages.

  I can't help but feel a bit of shame; everyone that sees this would pity me.

  The woman started cleaning my wounds; she was honestly doing a really great job at it.

  "Are you the one that changed my bandages when I was brought here too?"

  She replies, not even looking at me; her focus is solely on cleaning my wounds.

  "Yes, I was the only one volunteering to do it."

  Despite my current situation, I can't help but feel gratitude towards her; she seems to be such a nice girl.

  My sister would for sure like her.

  "Thank you, Miss; I appreciate it."

  She looks around to see if anybody is close by; once she confirms that no one besides her partner is nearby, she hands me another bottle.

  "Drink this right now."

  From the looks of it, it's not something she should have done, so I drink it in one go.

  Snatching the bottle right as I put it back down, another couple of guards are making their way towards us.

  Quickly putting her backpack on, she taps her partner on the shoulder, signalling him to go.

  Before scurrying off, she quickly wipes away the red paint on my arms.

  Meanwhile, he just stood there, jaw clenched, not responding to her at all; his eyes were focused solely on me.

  "H-how does something like that happen?"

  ...

  I feel like I must reply; I was seemingly given extra care after all.

  So I put on a *nice* smile again and reply in kind.

  "Fought something real scary, That is all."

  As both of them were quickly making their way towards the other guardsmen, they briefly stopped to explain the situation.

  The girl did most of the talking, explaining to them why I am sitting outside my cell.

  As the two guards were walking towards me, one of them grabbed into the pocket at his wrist.

  Pulling out a black rock, he talks into it, amplifying his voice by several magnitudes.

  "Hold."

  Just like that, my arms are being strongly pulled together.

  The coal they moulded around my arms seems to have several use cases.

  They are seemingly pulling me towards the prison and react to commands given via voice under specific conditions.

  That, or prisoners can bully each other; I should not test either, however.

  At the surface, everything here seems a bit too lax, but they have their own functional system, it appears.

  "One-seven-eight, get up and wait right there."

  I do as I am being told, although it is a bit hard to stand up while your arms are glued together.

  One guard stands behind me, while the other approaches the cell of one-six-three.

  "One-six-three, get back from the door."

  "Come only out when I tell you so."

  While he grabs the door's handle with both hands, I notice that both guards have a green shoulder patch.

  This prison must be colour-coded to a big degree.

  These things usually indicate a bigger structure that is hard to manage without simplification.

  Meaning, this prison must be quite big.

  The Guardsman strongly pulls at the handle; it takes him a good minute to pull it open by himself.

  Glancing at the person inside the cell, he takes a breather before telling him to get out.

  "Go on, get out. In front of one-seven-eight you go."

  Out of the cell walked a man with his arms currently glued together just like mine.

  Barring the same black arms I do right now, the man walking out of the cell, one-six-three, was not a Newman like me.

  A Beastfolk man, his stature comes out as quite big, rivalling Mare in height at around 190cm.

  His hands were more like claws, while orange fur was covering his entire upper body, with black stripes that went upwards on the side.

  His hair and eyebrows are black, and his eyes have a strong shadow under them with a brown colour within.

  As he walks out, he takes a glance at me, looking me over from top to bottom real quick.

  He tsks and takes his eyes off of me, walking in front of me as instructed.

  The guard that was opening his cell walks up to him, telling him to walk towards the work site.

  He then positions himself behind me like the other guard, instructing me to follow one-six-three.

  The Beastman in front of me takes a deep breath, waits for a few seconds and then starts walking.

  I follow as instructed, with the guards behind us.

  My tries to introduce myself by name get called short.

  "Name's Theo—"

  "Don't talk to me, Newman."