Restart:Untalented Man

Chapter 409 Morning In Prison Island

The guard shrugged, “How could I know? Higher-ups decide to keep him. Maybe they have a use for him in the future.”

“I guess so,” the soldier replied nonchalantly, adopting the same attitude as the guard.

The soldier bid farewell to the guard, turning away from the prison entrance and making his way toward the docks. His thoughts were focused on leaving this depressing island as soon as possible.

The longer he stayed, the more he felt the vitality seep out of his body.

The oppressive atmosphere of the island spurred his steps quicker.

As for those prisoners, they were no longer his concern.

The next day arrives.

The sun began its ascent, casting a tranquil morning glow over the island.

However, the tranquil atmosphere did little to lighten the oppressive mood that clung to the island.bender

The air remained heavy with the weight of despair just like in the previous day.

Nevertheless, the morning sunlight still has its benefits for the human body.

The prison management, despite their harsh and cruel treatment, still retained a shred of humanity inside them.

At this specific time, the metallic grilles of the cells were opened, allowing prisoners to emerge after having their breakfast.

The routine, a brief leisure from the confines of their cells, beckoned them to the park outside for their morning exercise.

Of course, the prisoners were far from free.

Their hands were bound with cuffs as they should and would only be opened when they reached the park.

Under the watchful eyes of the guards, they moved cautiously, aware that any deviation from the normality could have dire consequences.

These guards wouldn’t hesitate to shoot them to death if they tried to do something suspicious or out of line.

They learned this fact in a harsh way a long time ago when a certain new prisoner thought he had a chance to escape. His body was later thrown into the sea and became food for whatever creatures swimming beneath the surface.

Stepping outside the cold, oppressive building, the prisoners squinted their eyes against the sudden assault of sunlight that bathed their faces.

The warmth of the morning sun gradually seeped into their

skin, inviting a reluctant relaxation in their tense bodies. The jingle of keys and the clink of metal signalled the removal of the prisoners’ handcuffs.

The sound, while freeing, served as a reminder that their leisure time was temporary and closely monitored.

“As usual, you have two hours to play,” the guard announced.

The prisoners, now unshackled, acknowledged the limited freedom with a nod.

Released into the park, they started to move aimlessly across the large open space.

Everyone found their spot and did their own exercise.

Some stretched their limbs, attempting to regain a semblance of flexibility and ease the tension while others jogged in small circles.

The recreational park, despite its designation as a space for outdoor activity, lacked the vibrancy and life.

It felt more like a barren field with sparse trees scattered across the landscape, offering meagre shade to those beneath.

The atmosphere, while slightly better than the prison cells, still carried a heavy air of gloom.

In all honesty, the park was slightly better than a graveyard, but without the tombstones and dead trees.

Surrounding the park were tall buildings of prison complexes where they came from.

Guards on the rooftops were noticeable to every prisoner below.

They are monitoring their every move to see for any suspicious behaviours.

While the prisoners were enjoying their recreation time, a man observed them intently from inside one of the buildings.

A guard approached the man, acknowledging his presence with a respectful greeting. “Good morning, Sir Niden,” the guard said. “Have you had your breakfast?”

“Morning and yes, I have.” Niden nodded.

Although the prisoner’s food tasted horrible and can barely be called ‘food, the same can’t be said for the staff.

They enjoyed the normal and delicious food which made their job more bearable.

Still focused on the scene unfolding in the park, Niden pointed his finger and asked,

“Which building are these prisoners from?” 𝑖𝘦.𝒸𝘰𝘮

“Building 2, sir.” the guard replied.

On the island, there were five prison buildings, each housing its own contingent of prisoners.

To prevent overcrowding and maintain some semblance of order, the prisoners from each building took turns using the park.

The guard, sensing an unusual presence of Sir Niden at this hour, remarked, “It’s rare to see you walking around this early, sir.”

Sir Niden responded, “I had tasks to do today. So, I thought, ‘Why not start doing it in the morning! The earlier I start, the earlier I finish.”

“Is this about the newly arrived prisoners?”

“Yes, it is. Since their case is very high profile, I can’t afford to do the job at my own pace,” Niden replied.

After chatting with the guard for a moment, Niden excused himself and began walking toward his office located at the same level, the ground floor.

In fact, all the prison staff’s work desk is on the ground floor.

The corridor leading to his office was utilitarian, with sterile walls and minimal adornments.

The air in this section of the building is far different from the rest which carries an oppressive feeling. This part gives a typical office-like environment.

Niden entered his office.

It was sparsely decorated, with functional furniture and shelves neatly organized with files and documents.

Approaching the shelves, his fingers hovered left and right, deftly navigating the rows of files as he read the words on the spines.

𝑖.𝘤ℴ𝘮