Chapter 162 His Experiences
【Dear Sheehan Connery.】
[I'm so glad you still remember me. Today is my 327th day in prison. Please forgive me for taking the blame for your crimes without your consent. Receiving Eoubs's release letter is truly a pleasant surprise.]
I considered writing to you, but the warden kept delaying it because I wasn't cooperating with prison operations. If it weren't for the Americas branch coming to bail me out, we probably wouldn't have been able to get in touch for another seven or eight years.
Life in prison is actually quite interesting, perhaps because it's filled with unstable groups, including some operatives I've worked with before. Although they've been stripped of their special abilities, they've been incredibly helpful to me since meeting me. So, I'm giving these friends the clothes and daily necessities you gave me back then. Please don't be offended.
Yesterday, I had a rather unfriendly conversation with the higher-ups at Yingzhou. Their gist was that they wanted me to work for their organization after I regained my freedom. I declined, not because I harbored resentment towards the warden's刁难 (difficulties/obstruction), but because the experiments they conduct here are far more extreme than those in the Americas.
[Since I have nothing to do and am currently waiting for the process to be completed, I plan to write everything down.]
Every night, prison guards acting as operatives would infiltrate the cells designated by higher-ups. Although they had stolen weapons, money, and clothing before entering the prison, it seemed those things weren't enough to satisfy their desires. What the Yingzhou leadership wanted most were the heads of unstable groups.
[In their laboratory—I only learned about it later; a kind person told me that hundreds of human heads were piled up there. The room was separated by screens sprayed with suppressant, and countless corpses were piled up. Some were hanging; there were so many that even upon close inspection, it was impossible to distinguish one from another, but the person in charge of the room remembered them all.]
[It is said that the person in charge had participated in extreme live human experiments prohibited by Eoubs in South Africa. Perhaps due to her extensive experience, she could still clearly remember which head belonged to which person, even after the hair had fallen out, the muscles had rotted, and the body had turned to bones. If a subordinate misplaced a head, she would fly into a rage, endlessly recounting which branch had imprisoned it and which continent it was an expensive consumable from.]
I don't know the person in charge's name; she never even wore an ID tag. But occasionally, I'd see her playing with human heads—a bizarre and vulgar game of make-believe. For example, one head would take another, smaller one, out with it. The smaller one was the pet—a cat or dog, depending entirely on the head's mood. They'd go for a walk, and one head would visit another. The heads would get to know each other and quickly fall in love. The game usually ended with the female head dumping the male head, or the male head breaking his promise and heartlessly abandoning the female head, leaving the female head heartbroken and in tears.
She would randomly select a few prisoners to participate in her games or serve as spectators.
She also enjoys creating complex plots—for example, the head of a wealthy young lady is tricked by the head of a poor young man. One night, the poor young man's head, disguised as the head the young lady's beloved head loves, sneaks in, makes vows of eternal love with the young lady's head, and they even sleep together.
After the intercourse ended, the young woman's head realized something was wrong. Harboring resentment towards the head, she wept day and night for her own foolishness, eventually becoming a nun.
[After the poor boy's head found out, he chased after the young lady's head to the nunnery and brutally beat her. The young lady's head wanted to die, but instead, she believed his sweet words and decided to escape the nunnery, run away to a mountain village, grow her hair back, and become a concubine—while the principal wife was a high-ranking member of the inner circle. At the end of the game, they were all hairless, their flesh rotting, maggots crawling everywhere, revealing their stark white bones.]
[Three heads, drinking and celebrating together, fell to their deaths.]
[Each time they see their faces collapse, the person in charge is overjoyed, sometimes laughing loudly, sometimes suddenly covering their face and crying, or muttering to themselves.]
[Once, I was forced to pretend to be an audience member.]
The scene was utterly absurd. I did nothing, while the person in charge just chuckled as if they were playing some delightful game.
Sometimes, the head of a beautiful young woman would appear, clean and fresh, seemingly still a child, yet her face held a maturity and serenity beyond her years, her tightly closed eyelids suggesting a deep sorrow. The person in charge cherished the head, treating it like a younger sister or older sister, combing its black hair and applying makeup to it every day.
[They played house for over half a year. When higher-ups came to inspect, they discovered the room and were terrified. They even considered having everyone's heads burned, but ultimately didn't—apparently, the person in charge gave them a severe beating. It's hard to imagine what kind of supernatural powers that woman possessed.]
Sometimes her demands are very high; this won't do, that won't do, so we have to pamper her in every way, wanting to make the face of that young girl's head even more vivid—so we have to pair it with the head of a young, infatuated man.
I'm lucky I wasn't selected.
The person in charge did the makeup for the head of the person playing the lovestruck character—I won't go into the details, but to this day it's a nightmare. She was always engrossed in the passionate love game between the two heads.
Acquaintance, love, suspicion, deception, resentment, or pain on their faces—yet when the passion between two heads begins to burn, one's fire will eventually ignite the other, and ultimately, the two will become leaping flames, burning endlessly.
[However, not long after, she devised a new plot, and new heads appeared. The filthy heads of rapists, murderers, and other such figures emerged to obstruct the beautiful love, beating and kicking the lovestruck head until it was finally killed. Afterwards, those heads surrounded the girl's head, biting it tightly with their fang-like teeth, biting off its nose and lips, and mercilessly tearing out its hair.]
The person in charge would poke small holes in the girl's head with a needle, then slash and gouge out haphazardly with a scalpel. The girl's head would quickly become gruesome, even more filthy than any other human head, and would eventually be discarded.
I don't know how long this farce will last in Yingzhou. Is this an experiment? It doesn't seem like one, but it's not entirely that simple either.
But those scenes remained etched in my mind, making it impossible for me to sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the same images. Whether in dreams or reality, I watched them repeatedly, as if trapped in an inescapable cycle.
[Perhaps it's some kind of psychological suggestion, but I keep feeling like my mental pollution level has changed again, even though the test results are within the normal range. That feeling is awful, Sheen.]
[I just realized the letter is almost at the end as I'm writing this. I'll tell you when we meet.]
Love, Ethan Jonas.
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