In fact, Xia Zuo had imagined such a scene countless times.

After confirming that the current warden of Eastwood was indeed named Crest, and that his appearance coincided with the disappearance of Christine, Xia Zuo realized that there might be such a day.

But he didn't expect that this day would come so soon and so unexpectedly.

——So fast that even though he had prepared himself mentally, he still froze in place uncontrollably, unable to look away.

And Ursula's condition was even worse than his.

At least he got along with Christine for a while, but Ursula hasn't seen Césaire for a whole year. The last time she saw him was when she helplessly witnessed his death.

The black-haired girl looked at the familiar figure with trembling pupils. Her body was shaking slightly, but she was completely unaware of it.

"Xize..."

There was no expression on her face, but her voice was very soft, revealing a barely perceptible sense of confusion, nervousness and grievance.

If you are not familiar with her, you will not be able to hear anything from this sentence.

It was as if the guards noticed her intention to move forward and immediately put the guard on alert again, fearing that she would do something to the warden. Even though they did not act rashly due to the warden's orders, the vigilance and murderous intent still affected Ursula, who was extremely sensitive to emotions.

For a moment, no one spoke, and the atmosphere fell into silence.

"Oh, aren't these our two new faces?"

Suddenly, a voice with a sarcastic smile gloated: "Who... killed someone?"

The red-haired man came near them with almost no hindrance - to be precise, it was not that he was not blocked, but with his strength, it was really a very simple thing for him not to be discovered by others.

But Aaron is a guy who enjoys watching the fun and not minding any trouble. It can be seen from his talent that he likes the environment around him to become painful and chaotic, and he will be happy from it.

"If someone was murdered and the warden saw it, then there should be rules in Eastwood—" The red-haired man saw that no one paid attention to him, so he was not embarrassed. Instead, he laughed and said, "Mr. Warden, how are you going to deal with this matter?"

"Indeed."

The warden's calm and pleasant voice sounded slowly and steadily, no different from usual.

Xia Zuo's golden pupils suddenly shrank and he looked straight into the black-haired warden's gaze, but he could not detect any special emotions in it.

In those misty blue eyes that he should be very familiar with, there was no faint and vague smile, nor was there any calm indifference. Instead, there was only a coldness like condensed mist, without any unnecessary emotions. It made people's scalps tingle just by looking at them, and they even doubted whether they were a human or a corpse in his heart.

Such a look made Xia Zuo's heart sink gradually, and a layer of chill spread over it.

Is Caesar acting? He is always the best at acting.

Just as Xia Zuo was thinking this, he noticed that the black-haired girl with her head lowered beside him was pulling at his clothes, her body trembling slightly.

She once again fell into a state of almost losing her mind. If she hadn't subconsciously wanted to not go against [Cesare]'s idea, she would not have stayed here and would have rushed directly towards the black-haired warden.

"I really should handle this matter according to Eastwood's rules."

The black-haired warden's voice was even, "2512 will be sentenced to one week in prison, and 2511 will have his work hours increased by three hours per week."

"And 2271, leaving his post without permission..."

Aaron smiled and said, "Oh, warden, people have urgent needs. Can't you leave the workshop temporarily? This is not a hard and fast rule of Eastwood."

The black-haired warden was not led astray at all, and slowly added the next sentence: "And spoke without permission before the warden expressed his opinion."

Aaron's expression finally changed.

Damn it, how could I forget about this?!

The third iron law of Eastwood was that Bai Loli had her legs chopped off as an example to others because she violated this iron law.

The black-haired young man looked at him, his voice containing an ambiguous smile, but when one listened carefully it was clearly an eerie calmness, and the sense of disconnection was extremely clear.

"So, do you want to lose your tongue, or some other part of your body?"

He even seemed somewhat deceptively friendly.

Aaron sneered: "It turns out that in the eyes of the warden, the punishment for ignoring the Eastwood regulations and killing someone is not as severe as just saying something casually."

This was a clear mockery, but the black-haired warden showed no emotion at all. He tilted his head slightly and said, "I'm glad that you understand this."

Aaron: “…”

The black-haired warden continued calmly, "Whether it is the iron law of Eastwood or the rules of Eastwood, the core is only one, 2271."

The red-haired man naturally understood the warden's implication.

What about the iron law, what about the rules? The whole prison is ruled by the warden, and his words are the absolute truth, the absolute iron law.

Whoever he wants to live can live, and whoever he wants to die can't escape.

"ha……"

There was a strong sense of hostility and ferocity in Aaron's eyes.

The warden is really, really, really good at analyzing other people's psychology, accurately stepping on the things they hate most, and then grinding them hard on the ground.

He said with a wry smile: "I am so sorry, Mr. Warden. I volunteer to extend my working hours until late at night. I wonder if you are satisfied?"

Warden: "Ah, only today?"

Aaron's smile was almost enough to make people eat him: "... for a week."

After the red-haired man left, the warden turned his head slightly and looked at the two children who had been silent until now. His voice sounded gentle and calm: "So, how long are you going to watch me?"

"..." The brown-haired boy pursed his lips. When he spoke again, his voice was a little dry and hoarse: "Mr. Warden...can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," the warden agreed readily, "after all, there are still differences between you and real criminals."

Xia Zuo exhaled, looked straight at the black-haired warden without dodging or avoiding, and asked clearly: "Do you know Cecil Crest?"

He did not miss the flash of doubt on the black-haired young man's face.

Before the surprise came over him, the young man spoke with some confusion: "My name is Cecil Crest."

"Are you looking for me?"

The expression on Xia Zuo's face had become stiff.

He never thought that the black-haired young man would admit it so naturally.

He was acutely aware that this was...worse than any scenario he had previously imagined.

He could barely control the emotion in his voice: "... Caesar."

Cesar Kleist looked at him calmly: "Do you know me, sir?"

His eyes turned to Ursula. "If I remember correctly, this lady also called my name. And not everyone knows the name of the warden of Eastwood."

"Or should I say—"

The black-haired young man had a handsome appearance, and his misty blue eyes that could blur emotions should have been gentle, but when he said this, it was faintly like a sharp blade, a blade that could kill people without shedding blood.

"Do we know each other?"

Unprecedented silence fell again.

It was like someone was stabbed by a sharp knife that pierced through the chest, but what flowed out was not blood, but something that made people feel more suffocated than blood.

The black-haired young man blinked, no longer willing to waste time dwelling on these meaningless events. He turned around and was about to leave, but he heard the young man behind him say with certainty as if he remembered something: "Then how did you know we were coming and send someone to pick us up?"

"You left us alone with Yaron and one with Vilajunka. It's not like, it can't be a random arrangement... You know us."

"…You remember me and Ursula, don't you?"

Even without looking back, the warden seemed to be able to sense the emotions in the pair of golden eyes that were looking at his back.

"…Whether it's Christine or Cesar, the one I know is a soft-hearted, best friend."

He repeated.

"I know Césaire, and Ursula knows Césaire."

"We are close friends."