Hercules stopped speaking. For a moment, he remained still, then he walked slowly toward the back wall.
As he faced the slit of light again, he continued, "It has been six years since I was locked in here. In the beginning, every person in this building tortured me. Officers, soldiers, guards, even some prisoners. They took turns beating me for hours. But Henry was the only one who beat me every single day without fail.
For the first month, my body could not handle it. I coughed blood daily. But eventually, my body adapted. Within a year, I became strong enough to take the beatings and still stand.
After that, the guards began fearing me. Then the soldiers. Then the officers. Eventually, everyone stopped coming to my cell. Everyone except Henry.
For the last three years, he has been the only one who enters this place.
It has been nearly three years since I talked to any person other than him. And in these six years, I have seen the outside world only six times, on the rare occasions when they take me to the roof to maintain the wall.
Normally a guard is required to accompany any prisoner, but Henry refuses to allow anyone to come with me. I must stand alone on the wall for an entire week.
Those moments high above the ground, looking at the vast world, are the only times I feel alive. The rest of the year, I live only to wait for that week.
This is the story I carry. The story I live with. And the story I will keep living until the day I die."
He ended his tale and stared through the narrow slit in the wall, eyes distant, as if looking far beyond the world visible outside.
A moment later, Obero asked quietly, "What about the punishments for Henry and the others who assaulted the women that night?"
Hercules heard his question and walked back to the bars, his expression calm yet carrying a bitterness that seemed carved into him. "In front of the testimony of women who were heavily sedated, and the testimony of the enemy kingdom's military, Henry's words appeared more convincing to the king's court."
He let out a hollow breath.
"According to the story Henry created, several prisoners who were completely innocent, along with some rookie soldiers who were sleeping inside the building that night, and even a few senior officers Henry had hated for years, were declared guilty of assaulting the women. They were sentenced accordingly. Later, the issue grew so large it became a world crisis. Every kingdom responded by legalizing brothels as a countermeasure, while punishing the criminals involved in the trafficking."
Hercules stopped speaking. He began unbuttoning his shirt with deliberate, slow movements. After removing it, he folded it neatly and placed it on the bed. He then moved to unbutton his pants.
Obero watched him, and before Hercules could continue, he asked, "And the two who assaulted your wife and your daughter? Who were they?"
While folding his pants, Hercules replied in a flat tone, "I know nothing about them. I had never seen them before in my life. I believe the court mentioned something about them, but at that time I was not mentally stable. Nothing reached my mind. I did not even know I was sentenced to eight years until Henry told me a month after I came here."
Hercules now stood in the center of the cell wearing only his underwear. The bright light pouring from the hole in Obero's cell illuminated him fully, revealing the history carved into his flesh.
Obero's eyes widened.
Hercules's chest and abdomen were riddled with scars. His thighs and knees bore deep burns, old cuts, healed wounds, and places where stitches had once held flesh together. His legs were marked with welts and bruises. Even his nipples had been cut.
It was a body sculpted by torture.
Not training.
Not war.
Torture.
Noticing Obero's gaze drift to his underwear, Hercules gave a sardonic smile and said, "Henry has a complex about my dick. He never asked me to remove my underwear while torturing me."
Obero smiled faintly at the joke, and Hercules chuckled with him, the moment strangely lit despite the scars between them.
Then, footsteps approached from the hallway.
Obero lifted his chin slightly. "My escort is here," he said with the same gentle smile.
One of the soldiers who had locked him earlier appeared, panting lightly. He stopped at the cell door, his fingers trembling as he fumbled with the key. After unlocking it, he stammered, "Th-the ki-king himself wrote a letter to the co-commander… to se-set you free."
Obero stepped out of the cell. He looked directly into the soldier's eyes, and in a voice so deep it sent a ripple of fear through the hall, he said, "I believe you have something belonging to me."
The soldier shivered. Slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a crystal chess piece, a Rook, and placed it into Obero's outstretched hand.
Obero closed his fingers around it and walked toward Hercules's cell. Standing at the bars, his eyes locked with Hercules's, and he asked, "Do you have a wish that can be granted only by the one who created everything?"
Hercules blinked once, the gesture small yet filled with meaning. It was an answer.
Obero gestured for him to stretch out his hand. Hercules did so. Obero placed the crystal Rook in his palm and said, "Keep this close to you, and you will get a chance to wish."
As soon as Hercules's fingers closed around the piece, the crystal glowed brilliantly, bright as a captured star.
While Hercules stared at the glowing artifact in confusion, Obero turned and walked toward the metal wall along with the soldier. The soldier opened the door.
On the other side stood Henry, climbing the stairs with a wide smirk carved across his face. In his hands, he carried a large hammer. His eyes gleamed with hunger as he stared at the weapon, not at the men in front of him.
The soldier, unaware at first, kept speaking to Obero. "Why… why did it not glow when I held it?"
Still watching Henry approach, Obero replied calmly, "You are not worthy of it."
The soldier finally noticed Henry approaching and quickly tried to save himself. "I-I was just setting him free, sir. As you ordered," he said, pushing Obero down the steps in panic.
Henry never looked at the soldier. His eyes followed Obero as he descended the stairs. Only after Obero vanished from sight did Henry's smirk deepen.
He tightened his grip on the hammer.
And resumed climbing the stairs.
End of piece