I'm fighting Kal'tsit? Really?

She didn't know who in the crowd had laughed, but Robin didn't feel much shame. Her mind was filled with imagining what was about to happen. As she stood up, she said to the prison guard in a low voice, "Excuse me, sir, I should have been watching where I was going."

"Don't worry about it." Saria glanced back at Robin, who was looking downcast, and then at the cut on her knee. She didn't say anything more. "Go to the infirmary on the way back and be careful not to get the wound infected."

"Ah, okay." Robin was a little confused by the prison guard's sudden kindness, but she still nodded obediently.

Just as Robin patted his knee and casually wiped away the cuts he had made, a furtive figure slowly approached him from behind.

She looked up and saw a Liberian girl wearing a prison uniform with a hood on the back waving at her. When she got closer, the girl shoved a band-aid into her hand.

"Thank you," Robin replied softly, the kindness from her companion easing her mood somewhat—but soon, seeing the girl rubbing her fingers together in a gesture of "payment," she couldn't help but laugh self-deprecatingly: "I don't have any on me right now, can I give it to you later?"

"Just kidding." The Liberian girl, or rather Kafka, quietly stepped into Robin's shadow. "We're both girls, we should definitely take care of each other, right?"

Kafka glanced at Seria, who was standing in front of him waiting for the elevator, and another prison guard who was chatting and joking with the prisoners, and whispered, "I heard we're having a bad day. They want us to clean up rubble, and they even asked us to volunteer."

"I was supposed to work hard to get a chance to relax, but today it suddenly turned into heavy physical labor." The girl clicked her tongue. "Sigh, I hope it's not too tiring. I was thinking of playing in the empty room in Zone C for a while."

Robin wanted to say something more to the other person, but the prison guard in the distance seemed to have heard the commotion in the crowd and immediately called out, "Hey! You two over there, don't talk!"

So she could only sigh, memorize the other person's appearance, and see if she could meet him again when she got back.

A band-aid in Mansfield is already a heartwarming gesture of kindness.

……

The cleaning team, composed of prisoners, slowly entered this floor of Zone C.

An indescribable sense of oppression filled the air. The dappled light and shadow on the walls cast the figures of the prison guards and prisoners. Even before reaching the vicinity of the cells, they could see the rubble and metal fragments scattered on the ground, probably blown there by the wind, as if a small war had just taken place.

Robin's fingers instinctively reached for the dagger in her pocket, her slightly sweaty palms betraying her nervousness.

Despite her best efforts to remain calm, every step she took after arriving in Zone C felt like walking on a tightrope, with each heartbeat filled with fear of the unknown and anxiety about failure.

The previously jovial prison guard stopped, turned around, and swept his cold gaze across the group. His voice echoed in the empty corridor, "Your task is simple: clear all the rubble and don't cause me any trouble. If anyone tries to slack off or do anything unnecessary..."

"Hehe, then I'll just pray that I die sooner; living will only be more torturous."

Suddenly, a wicked smile appeared on his face as he wanted to see if any of the prisoners in front of him were scared out of their wits... However, to his surprise, almost no one showed much tension.

Seeing that things weren't quite what he expected, he spat angrily and pressed his palm against the lock. "Alright, hurry up and take your things inside and get to work. If you don't do a good job later, I'll make you—?!"

The voice just fell.

A stick struck him squarely on the back of the head, where he was wearing a helmet. The sensation of the impact on his skull and the surrounding tissues made him dizzy, and he leaned against the wall.

Then several more blows landed on the areas not protected by his armor, knocking him unconscious.

"Hey, what do you want, you idiot?"

Having achieved his goal, the ferocious prisoner quickly turned his attention to Saria, who was standing there dumbfounded (?), and swung his stick at her again.

Saria instinctively took the blow, only then realizing the inappropriateness of her actions.

But soon, several other prisoners attacked her with their weapons. She slowly retreated into Anthony's cell, turning her back to the damaged wall and carefully dodging the prisoners' attacks. They quickly and instinctively huddled together, cornering Saria.

Then, she took an opportunity to be kicked lightly in the abdomen, and flew all the way to Gerald's room behind the cave.

"?"

Gerald's lips twitched involuntarily as he looked at the "frail woman" lying on the ground pretending to be dead.

If all stuntmen at BlueCity had this level of acting skills, most of them probably wouldn't even be able to afford to eat.

After seeing the prison guards being beaten into Gerald's room, the remaining prisoners clearly became cowardly and turned their attention to their colleagues, their eyes gleaming with ferocity.

They were never informed beforehand that their "teammates" would appear.

But there's only one prize. The big tiger has already been shackled to the wall, so all they need is the other side's remaining "teammates" to get their due reward.

Then the dagger struck his eye, the club struck his head, and blood flowed like a trickling stream, falling among the rubble and dust.

Robin was the first one targeted.

She never imagined things would turn out this way; she was even prepared to die here, not to mention the attack on the prison guards... Therefore, in everyone's eyes, she and Kafka became easy targets to bully and eliminate.

The onslaught of attacks quickly gave her a solution—when the prison guard was knocked into the room, almost all of them hesitated, so if she did the same thing and pretended to be knocked unconscious, she could find a chance to come back!

It must be said that she and Seria shared the same idea.

The former is risking his life on a risky choice, while the latter is making a judgment based entirely on thorough knowledge.

After dodging another attack, she found the large hole connecting the two rooms, and threw herself backward, away from the battlefield.

She landed in someone's arms.

Robin felt the breath on his neck and felt his blood freeze instantly, turning into the eternal ice of the tundra.

The scent of death had never felt so close to her; she felt a pair of slender hands rest on her waist, groping inside her body—

Then, he took out the dagger and the trap.

"Indeed, it is very well made."

She thought she heard the person say that.

……

In Anthony's cell, the fight was about to end after only a few seconds.

The girl from Liberi stood in front of Anthony in full view of everyone, taking a blow for him before pretending to fall to the ground, her fate unknown.

The three assassins, still standing in place, exchanged glances and looked at their target.

There's no energy left to waste on each other. It's not too late to settle the score once we've secured the kill.

But their thinking soon changed.

The chains on the wall, which were merely for show, were instantly broken by Anthony, who swung his fists and punched them repeatedly at their weapons.

A fist weighing immense weight will produce a teeth-grinding creaking sound merely upon touching flesh, causing muscles and bones to collapse and shatter in an instant.

When one of them was smashed in the head by those fists and fell to the ground unconscious, the remaining two realized their mistake and cautiously took a step back, holding their daggers, to confront him.

The blood flowing in the cell, coupled with the attack Kafka had just blocked for him, made Anthony unable to contain his anger: "Who sent you?"

"Heh...heh heh, you'd never guess—"

The fierce-looking prisoner suddenly couldn't speak. He touched his throat, trying to figure out why this strange thing was happening.

But all he could feel was a neck covered in blood.

Along with the unconscious prisoner lying on the ground, the three men who attacked Anthony all had a line of blood on their necks.

Like the people they had just killed, except for a few more minutes of breathing, they all became decorations and embellishments in this hellish place, adding the final strokes to the painting with their lives.

“…They’re almost incapacitated.” Anthony looked at Gerald with a complicated expression. “I’m not blaming you, I just haven’t gotten used to this, so fast.”

He knew his friend had been to the battlefield, but such a decisive approach still made him feel somewhat...uncomfortable.

“Only death will not deceive us, Anthony.” Gerald gently wiped the bloodstains from the dagger. “Since the other party cannot communicate and simply wants you dead, I will not risk having my friend suffer an attack from behind, especially the one other than you—so put away that meaningless mercy on your face and throw it in the trash.”

Then, he held the dagger to the neck of the girl in his arms.

"Come on, is there anything else you'd like to say, ma'am?"

These are the last few seconds of my life.

Robin's memories flashed through her mind, and she wanted to smash everything in front of her; she wasn't dead yet.

She had to say one last thing.

Perhaps, there is a glimmer of hope to save herself.

"trade."

Her eyes shone with an intense desire—the desire to live.

“I want to make a deal with you, Mr. Gerald, in exchange for my life.”

Chapter Seventeen: Mr. J's Exposure Countdown

Robin now fully understands just how absurd this whole thing is.

When she was a security guard responsible for transporting important personnel and protecting individuals, her seniors talked to her about assassination and how to deal with it.

The first and most crucial point is information.

If one could see every moment and every past event from a godlike perspective, then even the most powerful person would have room to kill.

Setting traps, using buildings and poisons, and even sowing discord are all ways to leverage the advantage of having the enemy in the open while your own side remains hidden.

So when Robin calmed down and looked at the large hole again, she knew she had failed.

Moreover, it was a complete and utter failure.

It wasn't that she couldn't kill him—if she combined it with her own trap and set the perfect setting, Anthony's physical abilities probably couldn't keep up with the shrapnel and impact of the instantaneous explosion. Trying to break through his defenses wasn't a pipe dream; there was a chance.

But she never acted with the mindset of an assassin, nor did she ever truly make up her mind.

With the outcome already decided and no way to retreat, Robin felt a sense of relief at this point.

It felt amazing to entrust your life to someone else, to not have to think about anything, and to focus all your attention on one thing. All she had to do was try her best to survive.

“I was hired to come to Mansfield Prison.”

"The person who hired me was an R forum user using the pseudonym 'Generous J'. He found me through private messages on the forum, which was a security-related forum."

Robin felt her adrenaline surging, and the fear the dagger instilled in her was slowly overwhelmed by the surge of neurotransmitters, allowing her to say what she wanted to say: "It makes me kill someone so I can get some money."

She deliberately avoided mentioning the purpose of the money, or that her father was still lying in the hospital.

Any subjective emotions mixed in with this person's presence will cause the other person to lower their opinion of them.

“It deposited the money into my account in advance, and it was also fully aware of what was happening to me, so it was certain that I would agree to the terms,” she continued. “The deposit of 300,000 Colombian gold vouchers, plus the subsequent 1.7 million, is roughly equivalent to what I would have earned in five years of my previous job.”

“I’ve asked the bank and the platform about anonymous transfers, but they can’t trace the information.”

"That's all."

Robin finished speaking in one breath, then stood quietly in place, awaiting the verdict from the other party.

Perhaps she still had some energy left to see the final scene of her life—thinking this, she began to look around at every corner of the room.

She seemed unable to smell the blood; that must have been a byproduct of her extreme nervousness. Even though the blood had soaked the floor, all she could think about was how to clean it up... Come to think of it, she hadn't even used the cleaning tools yet. What if they told her she couldn't go back until she finished cleaning?

Haha, that must be exhausting. I might as well just die.

But she couldn't die; she could no longer act like she used to, spoiling her father.

She became her father's pillar of support.

"Can I have the dagger?" Robin's breathing gradually calmed down, and she felt the coldness of the dagger against her neck. "I promise, I just want to prove something to you."

"Prove it to me?"

Gerald repeated the other person's words, twirled the dagger in his hand, and handed it to Robin. "Okay, come on."

The instant he received the dagger, Robin aimed the blade at his thigh, took a few deep breaths, and then stabbed downwards with all his might.

The moment the dagger pierced Robin's thigh, blood gushed out violently. The deep red liquid, like a broken dam, quickly soaked through part of her prison uniform. The splattered blood dripped onto the bed beside her, staining a small patch of the sheets and blankets red.

"—Ugh... Huff... Huff..."

Robin's breathing became rapid, and her voice trembled with pain, but she struggled to stay upright and not fall. One hand gripped the hilt of the dagger tightly, while the other braced herself against the ground, trying to maintain her balance.

Fortunately, she didn't know where the artery in her thigh was located. If the artery had been punctured, it was unclear whether the time it would take to get from there to the infirmary would have been enough to save her life.

However, muscle spasms and pain were still unavoidable, especially as the effects of adrenaline were nearing their end, and the signals transmitted from the nerves in her thighs to her brain caused her excruciating pain.

"My hands... can be used to make tools, and they're my livelihood... I'm sorry, they can't be cut off, otherwise my value will be reduced..."

Despite the excruciating pain, Robin spoke haltingly, "It's just my leg... it's alright... and this way, the person monitoring me can rest assured... even if he's watching the monitor right now, he'll only think I paid the price to gain your forgiveness..."

"And I will be at your service."

……

The silence in the room lasted for a while. In the next room, Anthony couldn't help but pull off his shackles and walk over to Gerald. Meanwhile, Seria, who was lying on the floor, silently extended her calcification to the edge of the bed. If something had really happened just now, at least she could have saved Gerald's life immediately.

The reason they hesitated to speak up and disturb him was because of Gerald's expression.

His face was flushed with anger; was he... angry?

Gerald was indeed angry.