Chapter 83
The warden's order was to be carried out immediately.
After he finalized the punishment, prison guards immediately came forward to take them back to the designated cells. At the same time, some people were ordered to dismantle the sanitary systems of D21 and those cells.
Up to now, a large number of prisoners have not yet recovered and are still immersed in the shock of what just happened.
They had thought of almost every possible punishment, but they had never imagined it could be done this way...
Is the warden really in good shape?
How did such a vicious idea come up?
But no matter how puzzled they were, the order just now had already taken effect. The meaning contained in it made all the male prisoners feel as if they had experienced it themselves.
People have three urgent needs. For these guys who care more about status and respectability, removing the toilet is already cruel enough, and forcing more than a dozen prisoners to squeeze into a single cell of a few square meters...
A prisoner who had been deprived of the right to use the toilet could not help but stand up and said: "You——"
The next moment, he felt the warden's emotionless gaze falling on him.
When the warden looked at Aaron, the red-haired man didn't show anything wrong, so he didn't think anything of it. But when it was his turn, he realized what a terrible feeling it was.
The black-haired young man was clearly smiling and talking innocently to the butler beside him just now, but when their eyes met, the rationality and calmness in his expression, which had not changed in the slightest, could be clearly seen.
The expression in his eyes was completely disconnected from his facial expression. The extreme weirdness brought by that moment was so terrifying that it made one's scalp tingle.
If we talk about Yalong, Bai Loli, and even the bird farmer, their abnormalities are all clearly displayed to the outside world, which makes people disgusted and fear them, but they also know that they cannot get involved with mad dogs easily, so they avoid them early.
But the feeling the young warden gave him was like the Dead Sea and the ice realm in the north: weird, desolate, and peaceful, with a deadly danger hidden at the bottom. Those blue eyes were like the vast starry sky and the silent deep sea. The moment their gaze fell on him, he even felt dizzy, and an instinctive extreme fear made him physically nauseous.
He heard the warden's calm voice:
"2561, do you have any comments to make?"
"...No, no." The man, whose face had been filled with rage just moments ago, now had beads of sweat visible on his forehead. He lowered his head, his gaze unfocused, as if he were in a state of immense fear. There was no trace of the arrogance that had led him to kill hundreds of people overnight simply because he was unhappy. "I'm very satisfied with the arrangements, Warden. Very satisfied."
Then the young man withdrew his gaze with satisfaction.
After this incident, no one in the public restaurant said a word that was not appropriate during the entire meal.
It is true that each prisoner has his own arrogance and madness. Eastwood is a gathering place for antisocial people, murderers and lunatics, but this does not mean that they are completely indestructible.
After all, we are just human beings.
As long as they are human, there will always be weaknesses that he can find and hit with one strike.
The warden ate at a relatively fast pace, but in a calm and elegant manner, showing excellent upbringing and etiquette. He even seemed to have a good appetite.
The expressions of some prisoners became even stiffer.
After finally waiting until mealtime was over and the warden leisurely left, they dared to breathe deeply and talk to familiar prisoners in a state of panic.
"Why haven't I heard of Eastwood having a warden before?"
"He looks so young, but he's so cruel?"
"From Bai Loli to Yalong... can't you see? From now on, no matter who you mess with, don't set your sights on the warden..."
The blonde woman had no interest in listening to the men's discussion. After finishing her food, she stood up and prepared to return to her comfortable cell - the cell environment was not bad as it was equipped with a sanitation system and an air circulation system - but was stopped by the young man with the black and white yin-yang hair.
"2198."
The birdkeeper's voice, slow and pleasant, rang out: "It's not like you to stop the plan midway."
Vera Junka raised her eyes, her expression unchanged, still cold and aggressive. "If you say one more word, I won't mind making sure you can no longer raise a nightingale."
The temperament of the young man with yin-yang hair suddenly became gloomy.
The force value of 2198 is at the ceiling level in Eastwood.
He really couldn't confront her head-on; there was only one outcome: death.
This woman never cared about how many people she killed, just like he didn't care what his nightingale thought.
"Ah... this won't do." He watched the blonde woman's retreating back, biting his thumbnail unconsciously. He huddled in his chair, his beautiful gray eyes staring blankly into the distance. "There's no nightingale singing, not even the sparrows screaming... this won't do."
The world cannot be so quiet - it cannot.
Even in Eastwood Prison for the Insane, it's the same.
…
…
Vera Junka returned to her cell and saw out of the corner of her eye that the painting that almost covered the floor of the cell next to her had been given billions of details.
The food from the morning was still on the ground, untouched.
It was obvious that her cellmate next door had not had a drop of water today.
As if she heard footsteps, the thin girl who had been facing the corridor turned around.
She has long, smooth black hair, a serious expression, and a pair of big eyes with distinct black and white. When she looks at people, one can't feel any malice in her.
"Sister Vera."
She greeted the blonde woman in a low voice, like an innocent girl obsessed with art who should not have anything to do with such a cruel and brutal prison.
Tong En, number 2265, was imprisoned in Eastwood for serial murder.
If it was just an ordinary serial killer, the person could be detained in the federal or picket tower prisons, but wherever Tong'en went, there would be people who became her knives or painting tools.
It took a lot of effort for Picket Tower to figure out what her talent was.
"Kiss of the Muse", an S-level white talent. Tong En, who possesses this talent, is surrounded by endless inspiration all the time, and the way she vents her inspiration is to paint.
This talent allows her to paint without distraction whenever she wants.
The tools of painting are the soul of another.
Tong'en's favorite thing to paint is portraits.
The person she drew would die suddenly at midnight the next day and disappear without a trace until someone discovered him. The person in the painting's eyes revealed extreme fear.
As long as no one can limit her talent, she can keep painting like this. Even if her hands and feet are broken, strange human-shaped patterns will still appear beside her, and her hands and feet will recover the next day.
Just when the Federation decided to execute her, people came to the Eastwood Prison for the Insane and escorted her back to the only place in the world that could imprison her talent.
"Good afternoon, 2265."
Vera Junka casually greeted him.
She was not interested in Tong'en's affairs.
Unlike the evil she did as the head of a criminal group, Tong'en has a congenital defect in her brain. Her memory fades very quickly, and she can only remember the people around her, which gives her a strange sense of childlike innocence.
She knew that she had killed countless people, and she didn't care when people told her about the disaster she had caused. She just wanted to paint and keep painting.
She was even well-behaved and polite, and even her eyes were rare and clean, looking like a pure and innocent little deer.
But when she wants to paint, she will treat everyone else as tools, materials or paints, start working with a smile, and say "thank you for your hard work".
For her art, she can give everything and destroy everything.
An unconscious human disaster.
But now that his talent cannot be used, the paintings Tong'en draws in the cell are all made from his own blood.
Just as Vila Junka was about to look away, she heard footsteps behind her.
The footsteps were very familiar. She had heard them not long ago on the first floor of the public restaurant.
So the blonde woman raised her eyebrows slightly, stopped and turned around.
She saw the black-haired young warden walk slowly to Tong'en's cell, glance at her blood painting, and said calmly:
"2265, I have a painting commission. Would you like to take it?"
"A painting commission?" Tong En blinked, understanding the meaning of this handsome young man he had never met before. "Are you going to paint you?"
"Of course not, it's such a waste, 2265." said the black-haired young man.
For some reason, Vila Junka suddenly had a bad feeling when watching this scene.
Sure enough, the next day, this premonition came true.
No one knew what the warden instructed Tong En to do, but everyone saw that the next day, the humanoid disaster who almost never left the cell door, quietly holding his painting tools, moved a small stool, and sat in front of the D21 single cell.
Then, facing the solitary cell that was packed like sardines in a can, he happily picked up the paints and brushes that were distributed to him.
"What are you doing?"
The red-haired man, whose body was stained with blood, leaving a vacuum of several centimeters around him, asked with a grin, but his eyes were full of gloom, and he no longer had the indifference and calmness of the past.
Tong En's distinct black and white eyes looked straight over and he replied softly and softly, "I'm drawing you."
As she spoke, she tilted her head and muttered to herself, "The picture needs to be harmonious. It needs to be harmonious... You can't be out of tune."
The next moment, a pure and innocent smile of joy appeared on her face:
"It's decided. I'll just draw you and their sports together! You have to join in to fit in."
Yalong: “…”
Tong En: "The warden said that my paintings are very good and he has high expectations for them. He will include them in the upcoming annual Eastwood Annual Report."
"The warden said that by then, everyone in this prison will be able to see my paintings."
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