"Garp."
Click~
The cell door opened. Garp approached with an oil lamp in one hand and a lunchbox in the other. He sat cross-legged in front of Roger and set the lamp and food on the ground.
"Let's see what we've got today. Why is it leg meat again? At least there's wine."
Roger didn't seem pleased with the day's food. The chains rattled as he picked up the meat and started tearing into it.
"Pour the wine. I might as well drink as much as I can while I still have a few days."
He gestured for Garp to pour. Roger had a hearty appetite.
Garp said nothing as he filled both cups. Roger eagerly downed one, his face showing blissful delight.
Garp remained silent, watching Roger finish his drink before filling the cup again.
Roger stopped after three cups in a row and let out a burp. In the dim light, his face was as white as paper, far too pale.
Though he looked haggard, his spirits were burning bright.
"Haha... Garp, this meat's good, and the wine's good too. Thanks."
Tearing at the meat, Roger grinned. He seemed completely at ease and openhearted.
Garp still said nothing. He watched the loneliness gradually appear on Roger's face, and his own mood sank.
He couldn't put the feeling into words. All he knew was that it weighed on him.
"Why are you looking at me like that? What's with that face?"
Roger stared at Garp, surprised and a little puzzled.
"Ah..."
Garp sighed, as if he'd aged several years in an instant.
"Why?"
"Haha. You mean, why did I turn myself in?"
Roger took a swig of wine and burped, looking at Garp as if it didn't matter.
"Why?!"
Garp stared at that haggard yet spirited face, and for