The Guest Who Wouldn't Leave

Wearing brand-new boots and a crisp uniform, adorned with impressive, handsome badges and armbands, Warden Maxilin strode down the prison corridors with his head held high. The man in his thirties had his hair neatly groomed and beard trimmed just right. He wore a reserved smile as he walked, the keys and baton hanging from his belt clinking against each other.

This was a newly built prison, as new as the Administrative Hall in the city. It had broad, brightly lit corridors and sturdy, attractive cells. One of Maxilin's daily duties was to patrol every corridor and room with two prison guards, ensuring that no prisoner escaped, harmed themselves, damaged the detention facilities, or fought in secret. It was rather tedious work, but it suited Maxilin perfectly, since he liked routine and order to begin with.

Everything was normal in the regular detention area. Those held here were mostly petty thieves and drunken louts who had caused trouble. Some of them hardly even deserved to be sent to prison; they were only transferred here for a few days because the temporary holding cells at the security bureau had limited space. They neither dared defy the guards nor were likely to prolong their brief detention by fighting among themselves. Patrolling this section had always been the easiest and most pleasant part of the job.

After passing through the regular detention area, Maxilin led the two guards toward the supernatural containment area. Before the stairs leading underground, the warden glanced at the heat exchanger and ventilation equipment operating normally on the wall beside him.

Once he confirmed that everything was in order, Maxilin could not help muttering, "What a fine age... even prison is this comfortable now."

After descending a flight of stairs and passing through an iron-bar gate, they came to