Shiryu of the Rain shoved Ace into the cell with a clean, efficient movement, pushing his whole body half a step forward. Ace staggered into the darkness.
Then he withdrew his hand, pulled a snow-white handkerchief from his pocket, and slowly wiped each finger.
This cell was unlike any other on Level Six.
The floor was dry, without the black puddles formed by seawater that seeped in and lingered year-round.
Though the walls were Seastone, a thin mattress covered the bed, and a low table stood in the corner.
Most jarring of all was the lamp-a dim yellow electric light hanging from an iron hook overhead, spilling a wavering circle of warm light over the cold stone tiles.
The light was too weak to illuminate even Ace's face.
But on Level Six-a place where even time had been steeped in darkness-the mere existence of a lamp was a privilege the other prisoners could not comprehend.
Shiryu glanced at the lamp, the corner of his mouth twitching. It was as though he were looking at an absurd scene he could never get used to, yet had to carry out himself.
He tucked the handkerchief back into his pocket. "A pampered young lord indeed. Enjoy your last good days."
His gaze lingered for an instant on the back of Ace's neck. His thumb unconsciously rubbed Raiu at his waist. Then he looked away, turned, and pulled the heavy Seastone cell door shut.
The metallic clang of the lock engaging echoed through the cavernous sixth level for a long time. His footsteps gradually faded.
Douglas Bullet leaned against his cell wall, tightly bound, the chains on his body making faint metallic scraping sounds with every breath.
"I've been in here this fucking long, and this is the first fucking time I've learned Level