Caeson stood inside the cell, gripping the cold iron bars tightly after hearing the guard's words—he was going to be executed tomorrow.
Wait… what? Am I really going to die like this?
But what is my crime? They didn't even tell me…
From behind, a voice interrupted his thoughts.
A prisoner with a thick moustache, wearing a black-and-white striped cap, leaned forward with a wide grin.
"Hey, you're the one getting executed tomorrow, right? Looks like you don't have much time left."
Nearby, two other prisoners sat on the floor. One was tall, wearing glasses, and the other was short with black earrings. They were casually playing Snakes and Ladders, taking turns rolling a dice as if nothing unusual was happening.
Caeson lowered his head. His chest tightened.
I want to cry…
No. I have to act tough. But why… why me?
The moustached man rolled the dice and chuckled.
"Let me introduce myself. I'm Charlie. You can sit here with us."
The dice stopped.
"Ahh—six!" Charlie shouted excitedly. He moved his piece forward, only to land on a snake and slide almost back to the start.
The other two burst out laughing.
"Tch. Screw this game," Charlie muttered, standing up. He walked closer to the cell entrance, glanced around, and whispered,
"Hey Patrick, grab the snacks. I don't think there are any guards around."
The tall man—Patrick—walked to a wooden cupboard filled with old books. He pulled out two of them, revealing something wrapped in paper inside. Returning to the center, he unwrapped it carefully.
Inside were small white pieces.
The short one with earrings immediately reached out, but Charlie stopped him.
"Hey, Truman, what are you doing? We've got a guest today. Let him try first."
All three turned to Caeson.
Hesitant, Caeson slowly walked over and sat beside them. He stared at the pieces.
"What do you want from me?" he asked.
From their expressions, he understood.
"You want me to eat this? How can I trust you?"
Truman shrugged. "Then don't. We'll eat it."
Patrick added casually, "You're going to die tomorrow anyway. If we wanted to harm you, would it even matter now?"
Caeson paused… then sighed.
"…Fair enough."
He picked up one piece and took a bite.
It was soft. Sweet. Smooth—like fruit soaked in sugar syrup.
"…Thanks."
Charlie smirked. "Instead of thanking us, why don't you tell us about yourself? From your clothes and appearance, you don't seem like someone from around here."
Caeson nodded slowly.
"My name is Caeson. I… don't even know how I got here. Last night I was sleeping, and when I woke up, a zombie army attacked me. Then some warriors saved me and brought me here."
He clenched his fists.
"I still don't know why they're going to execute me. They didn't even give me a lawyer…"
Patrick frowned. "Lawyer? What's that?"
Charlie shook his head. "No idea what he's talking about. But I think I know why they captured you."
He pointed at Caeson.
"First—your clothes. What are those? All black and red, like some kind of freak outfit."
"And second—your appearance. Zigzag hair, sharp teeth like a shark… and you were walking around in daylight like it's nothing."
He paused.
"Oh… you really don't know anything, do you? Since you just arrived last night."
Caeson looked confused.
"History? You mean… war, conflicts, something like that?"
The three exchanged shocked glances.
He survived… without knowing anything?
They formed a small circle. Charlie leaned back and said,
"Truman, you explain. You're better at storytelling."
Truman nodded and began.
"Nine years ago, a calamity struck our world. It was called… Figs."
Caeson blinked.
"Sorry for interrupting, but… figs? Like the fruit?"
"Yes," Truman replied calmly. "Fig trees suddenly appeared everywhere. No one knew where they came from. At first, people ate the fruits without any problem."
He paused.
"But after some time… things changed."
"People started acting strangely. Then violently. They began attacking others."
"The cause was linked to figs—but not all of them were dangerous. Still, those who changed… were executed."
Caeson listened carefully.
"The situation spread across all six kingdoms," Truman continued. "The infected either died… or fled."
He clenched his fists slightly.
"Things got worse when the zombies began destroying farms. Food became scarce. People were starving."
"So they ate figs again?"
Truman nodded.
"Yes. Out of desperation. Later, it was discovered that only certain fruits were infected—but by then, it was too late. Many had already turned."
Caeson leaned forward.
"So… people don't turn into zombies by being bitten?"
"No," Truman said. "Zombies kill, but they don't infect through bites. And strangely… they only come out during the day, not at night."
"All six kingdoms tried to eliminate them, but some are incredibly powerful. Many warriors were killed."
He exhaled.
"Now the kingdoms compete with each other, trying to prove superiority. There's also some kind of agreement between them… but I've been in prison too long. I don't know the details."
"…I see," Caeson murmured.
Charlie suddenly clapped his hands.
"Well, enough of that. Since you don't have much time left, want to play a game of Snakes and Ladders?"
At the word snake, something flickered in Caeson's mind.
A strange sensation pulled him inward.
Suddenly—
He was standing in complete darkness.
Inside his mind. And there, in the void…
was that same scrapbox, Hawker.
Caeson stared at it. A faint smile formed on his lips.
Now… I'm going to be free from here.