Prisoner No.0513

The Carl Star Nation. Death Star,Ninth Prison.

The barely acceptable living conditions did little to bring prosperity to this planet. At some unknown point, it had become a wasteland, a junkyard planet. Mountains of mechanical debris piled high, occasionally sparking with electricity, the air tinged with the smell of burnt cables.

Dominating nearly half of the planet's surface, the Ninth Prison stood amidst these ruins. Its sections, like fortresses, emanated an eerie and solemn aura under the illumination of the blue sun. This was the largest prison in the entire Carl Star Nation, housing many prisoners and countless unspoken secrets, equipped with sophisticated security intelligence and weaponry.

Having stood for over six hundred years since its construction, the prison boasted a zero escape success rate. Coupled with its relatively decent benefits, it had become a coveted workplace for the nation's prison guards.

Thomas Lane had once harbored such aspirations and had strived for them for a long time. Fortune hadn't failed his efforts. After a twenty-three-year-long journey from birth to the present, he had finally entered the Ninth Prison and became – a prisoner.

In the T Section Interrogation Room of the Prison.

Thomas Lane sat in the interrogation chair, looking at the middle-aged woman who placed her file on the table and gave him a slight smile, saying, "Hello, Mr. Thomas Lane. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Jenna Downs, the warden of the Ninth Prison."

"Hello, Warden."

"You can call me Ms. Jenna or Mrs. Downs."

One of the basic techniques in interrogation: friendly communication to close the distance... Thomas Lane responded with a smile, "Of course, Mrs. Downs. I've heard of your reputation long ago. It's an honor to meet you today. I didn't expect you to look so well-preserved. At fifty-five, your skin hardly has many wrinkles."

Jenna's smile twitched slightly, barely maintaining her facade. "I'm sorry if I was presumptuous. Let me rephrase that... For a commoner, you look very young. You don't seem like you're fifty... five."

"Really? How old do I look then?"

"Fifty-four, perhaps."

"Do you think you're funny?"

Jenna raised an eyebrow, her friendly smile fading. "Your jokes are not amusing, Mr. Thomas Lane. Where do you think you are? This is the Ninth Prison, and I am the highest authority here. I'm questioning you!"

An upgraded interrogation technique: intimidation when the interrogated is uncooperative... Isn't there something more sophisticated?

The smile on Thomas Lane's face grew wider. "Okay, Warden, it was just a joke. Don't get so worked up; too much anger might cause abnormal secretion of luteinizing hormone by the acidophilic cells of your anterior pituitary gland."

"And what would that do?"

"It could lead to irregular ovulation..."

"0513!"

Jenna was getting angry. As the warden, she had seen many prisoners. The Ninth Prison held countless scum and villains, many of whom provocatively acted out upon meeting her. But for some reason, Thomas Lane's casual words irked her more than any vile provocations.

However, Jenna needed to maintain her composure. After taking a few deep breaths, she reopened her eyes, striving to soften her fierce expression. "Mr.Lane, you're still young. Think about your family and friends, your future. Why must we converse like this? Honestly, my meeting with you today was intended to help you."

The ultimate interrogation technique: the emotional card... Thomas Lane sneered inwardly, but his face showed a moment of hesitation, as if pondering something. After a moment, he looked at Jenna and said, "Really? Can you truly help me?"

She's taking the bait... Jenna's eyes lit up, gently persuading him, "Of course, it's true. Why else would I single you out for a talk among so many prisoners in the Ninth Prison?"

"What do you need me to do?"

"I need your cooperation," Jenna said, thinking she had made a breakthrough, her smile returning. "I need your complete trust. Tell me about your background, why you were brought to the Ninth Prison. What crime did you commit?"

What crime could I have? I'm only twenty-three. I just want to live. What crime... Thomas Lane thought to himself, yet his face showed an expression of willing confession. "Honestly, Mrs. Downs, I hacked into the presidential mansion's security system, infiltrated the mansion, and after a three-hour standoff with the security guards, knocking out more than ten bodyguards, I finally found the president's son and successfully stole the lollipop from his hand."

Jenna's face turned sour again, her gaze coldly fixed on Thomas Lane. "The president only has three daughters, no son!"

"Is that so? Then wait while I make up another story for you."

"Mr. Thomas Lane!"

"Don't rush, Mrs. Downs. I can come up with many crimes, surely one will suit me."

"0513!"

"Are you angry? Don't be. Remember? Getting angry can cause your ovulation to be irregular."

"Shut up! Shut up! You jerk!" Jenna was truly infuriated, almost screaming as she ordered the guards to take Thomas Lane away.

It took a while before she calmed down and sat back down in her chair. The dim lighting cast shadows on her deepening nasolabial folds, a sign of aging. Above them were her eyes, now harboring a sinister look typical of menopause. "It's proven that, in any world, age is an absolute blow to those harsh women."

Beside the pond in the exercise yard, Thomas Lane, who had just washed his face, lowered his head with a smile on his lips. Yes, Thomas Lane was a fellow Earthling.

After traversing to this world, it took him twenty-three years to go from an infant to slowly learning the language and knowledge of this place. He lived strictly by the law, growing step by step until he found himself in the Ninth Prison. The complexities of his journey were not something that could be summed up in a few words.

"Sigh..." Thomas Lane exhaled deeply.

The water in the basin reflected his appearance: black hair, black pupils, and a beard untrimmed for days, giving him a somewhat rugged and weathered look. His slightly melancholic eyes, combined with a playful smile, added a unique charm to his demeanor. Unfortunately, the grey prison uniform and the electronic collar around his neck marred the aesthetics of the scene.

"I had only heard about it before, but now I realize, this thing is really uncomfortable." Thomas Lane turned around, observing his fellow inmates in the area while touching the electronic collar around his neck.

Most of the prisoners in the Ninth Prison, like Thomas Lane, were so-called commoners, bearing no significant physical differences from Earthlings. It's said that this species is relatively common in the universe and doesn't have notable racial characteristics, hence the name. Looking around the T Section, there were only a few prisoners of other species, each with their unique and indescribable appearances.

One thing was uniform among everyone: they all wore the same electronic collar. As Thomas Lane understood, this collar not only suppressed abilities but also had satellite positioning and an explosive feature. If anyone tried to escape beyond the designated area or attempted to forcefully remove the collar, it would explode right there, turning the person into a professional Xingtian cosplayer.

Observing that everyone obediently stayed put, Thomas Lane didn't try his luck with the collar. Instead, he closed his eyes, his consciousness delving into his own body. As a transmigrator, he had something else: a cube, located inside his body. Whether it was in his brain or elsewhere, even the instruments of the interstellar age couldn't detect it, and Thomas Lane was no more certain. But he could see it whenever he closed his eyes.

In a dimly lit space, the cube hovered there. Made of an unknown alloy, its six sides were of the same color, but each small surface had different pale white lines, with light blue lights twinkling on the 'tic-tac-toe' dividing lines, exuding a sense of technology.

"Twenty-five years of admiring this cube," Thomas Lane thought with a bit of annoyance. His connection with this cube could be traced back to before his transmigration, and he was almost certain that his crossing into this world was greatly related to it.

Back then, he was just a fresh graduate celebrating his new job with a nice dinner. Walking home in the dark, he noticed something reflective in the bushes by the roadside. Driven by instinctive curiosity, he went to check it out. That reflective object turned out to be this cube.

And so began Thomas Lane's transmigration (or rather, misfortune).

Normally, a cube with all sides of the same color, relying on fragmented patterns for assembly, would be incredibly challenging. Most people would give up after a few tries, perhaps keeping it as a decorative item at home to fiddle with when bored. But Thomas Lane was not most people.

Call it OCD or a quirky obsession, Thomas Lane had a special persistence when it came to puzzles, Rubik's cubes, and solving cryptographic problems. He once famously stayed up for three days straight to beat a puzzle game.

That night, the cube piqued his challenge-seeking spirit. He squatted on the curb, continuously observing and contemplating, from evening until late at night, investing four hours and half a pack of cigarettes. Finally, he managed to assemble a pattern on one face of the chaotic cube.

And then, he transmigrated.

Without any warning or second thoughts, he hadn't even had the chance to clearly see what pattern he had assembled before he found himself crossing over. Starting anew as an infant, it took him over twenty years to grow into a formidable prisoner.

For these twenty-plus years, the cube remained inside him, visible whenever he closed his eyes, yet it did nothing. Thomas Lane had tried more than once to rotate it again, to communicate with it. But the cube was like an irresponsible womanizer. It had seduced Thomas Lane that night, engaging him for four hours on the roadside, brought him to this interstellar world, entered his body... and then ignored him.

For twenty-three years, it just stood there, indifferent to all of Thomas Lane's efforts, giving no response. This left Thomas Lane speechless. He had transmigrated, seemingly with an advantage, yet without any real benefit.

"Darn it..." Another unsuccessful attempt at communication, Thomas Lane opened his eyes, looking around and muttering, "Around-the-clock surveillance, an ability-suppressing explosive collar, fifty-meter-high alloy walls, military satellite protection... This damned cube is useless. How can I ever leave this place?"

Boom! Suddenly, a heavy sound came from the metal gates. Thomas Lane and the other prisoners looked over as two figures entered their field of vision.

The figure in the forefront was a bald man, like Thomas Lane, a commoner, but much taller and more muscular. Roughly over two meters tall, he exuded an oppressive aura, making the young curly-haired man beside him look significantly smaller.

The moment they appeared, the noisy exercise yard fell silent instantly.

"A prison boss?" Thomas Lane's eyebrows raised slightly.

The scene before him, like noisy students suddenly falling quiet at the sight of their teacher, felt oddly familiar. On the other side, the bald man seemed accustomed to this kind of attention, showing little reaction. He walked into the exercise area with a stern face, accompanied by the young man.

Unexpectedly to Thomas Lane, a transport vehicle followed them. As the two men entered the yard, the vehicle also drove in. On it stood a five-meter-tall iron giant, humanoid, with visible damage to its chest and abdomen, revealing the cockpit inside. Its proportions were slender, showing that the designer of the mech had deliberately sought agility. However, its condition was poor; its old, mottled components and the black smoke drifting from inside indicated it was on the verge of being scrapped.

"A field mech..." Thomas Lane narrowed his eyes.

Why would there be such a thing in a prison?