Episode 386: Nouvelle Vague's dirty dog ​​(2)

The name is 'Garm Nord'. Rank Ensign. A low-level prison guard belonging to the Nouvelle Vague suppression team.

A 21-year-old young man with a timid personality who is always characterized by a withdrawn posture, a dark expression, uncut messy hair, and large burn marks on his face.

This was information about the 'new identity' that Bikir had been observing for the past two years.

Bikir did not escape.

To be precise, after pretending to escape from prison, they returned to the Nouvelle Vague, leaving the unconscious BDSM behind.

In any case, not only was it impossible to avoid the chase team by stealing the balloon eel and running away, but there was still work left to be done in prison.

'We need to activate Poseidon.'

I had nothing to take with me.

Once you satisfy certain conditions and start the Poseidon, all you have to do here in Nouvelle Vague is complete.

'… … Honestly, if I finish this job well, it won't be such a shame if I die here.'

Simply preventing the monsoon rains would save more than half of humanity.

What happens after that is up to the surviving humans.

But Bikir wanted to finish the job perfectly if possible.

Wouldn't it be a great business if you could take care of your own life at the same time?

at that time.

Touuuu-

The sound of horns announcing the guards' wake was heard.

It's 3:30 in the morning.

The guards wake up 30 minutes before the prisoners, who wake up at 4 o'clock.

Garm, or rather Bikir, stood up in his room, which was about 1 pyeong in size.

The shower room is a stone room large enough to fill two people.

Bikir turned on the rusty faucet and washed his face and body with the cold water that dripped down.

Of course, since the water was sea water, almost no foam came out even when I rubbed the soap.

Even after washing, the sticky feeling still remains on the skin.

When I looked in the mirror, I saw messy burn marks under my wet hair.

Vikir was able to erase the scar and recreate it again and again with the power of the Basilisk.

The voice could also be modulated by swallowing hot charcoal and burning the vocal cords.

Decarabia, on Vikir's chest, spoke as if he was fed up.

[human. Doesn't it hurt? It's really terrible!]

"I entered the Iron Maiden, was thrown 10,000 meters below the ocean floor, crossed a bridge of blades, fought leeches, endured a sulfur shower, and worked on a mine under a volcano so hot it burned my flesh. This is about it."

Anyway, the first jailbreak operation was successful.

The Night Hound was declared dead and given the status of a jailer.

It was a good thing that he was a jailer because it was much more advantageous to monitor Poseidon's movements.

Bikir glanced away as he prepared for roll call.

There were palm-sized notes piled up on the desk and bed.

Those were the diaries that Garum kept every day while he was alive.

With hundreds of these diaries piled up in the already small room, the space is tight.

But Bikir did not throw these away.

Rather, I treated it like a treasure, reading and memorizing each letter on the damp and smeared paper.

'It's good to know the daily lives of low-level guards.'

Garum's diary clearly revealed the lives and joys and sorrows of low-level guards living together in one-pyeong rooms close together.

Even though the horn sounded, there was still some time left before the morning roll call, so Vickir finished reading the diaries.

Even though I stayed up all morning yesterday reading, there was still quite a bit left in the diary.

Bikir decided to get rid of useless nonsense and only get the essential information.

Nouvelle Vague's structure and system, information on the characters that appear in Garum's daily life, and other things to keep in mind... … .

Other than that, the vast majority of the content was trivial and personal, revealing the thoughts, beliefs, and humanity of the person named Garum.

Bikir did not look at Garm's personal records because he judged them unnecessary, but he could not help but read through the vast volume and not read a single line.

And in the process, I came to understand his humanity to some extent.

"… … "It's fortunate that he's someone who doesn't have many close people around him."

Garum had extremely narrow personal relationships.

However, he was able to observe others neutrally and objectively, and those perspectives are fully reflected in his diary.

The Nouvelle Vague seen through the eyes of a prisoner and the Nouvelle Vague seen through the eyes of a prison guard surprisingly had many similarities.

For example, in most of Garum's diaries, the last sentence was 'I want to get out of here.'

It felt like reading a prisoner's memoir.

"… … Now that I think about it, the places where guards and prisoners live are similar."

Vikir looked inside the cramped stone chamber.

It is literally a coffin without any windows.

There were no handcuffs or bars, but it was not much different from the prison cells where prisoners lived.

… … No, the guards also had handcuffs and bars.

"Morning roll call! "Everyone come out!"

It was an insanely packed roll call and work schedule.

It confines and controls the guards like invisible bars.

The guards who control and manipulate the prisoners are also controlled and manipulated by the system.

Bikir stood up and closed Garm's diary.

… … No, I was trying to cover it up.

"hmm?"

Bikir suddenly looked at the next page from the one he was looking at.

From there, I got a glimpse of things I had never seen before.

Until then, Garum had been writing in his diary in a calm and dry handwriting, even including himself.

However, from this page onwards, slightly different content is written.

It was about Circo.

How brave, how steadfast, how great, how respectable, and how pretty the classmate in the room across from me, whose name is 'Kirko Grimm', is.

Starting from a certain page, Garum's diary was full of stories about Kirko.

It even looks like a pretty well-done sketch.

The story of how she ranked first in the month-end evaluation.

The story of how she easily suppressed a prisoner riot.

The story of how she was promoted first among her classmates.

The story of how she won first place in a swordsmanship competition.

.

.

And the last entry in the diary, which always continued the same, had changed slightly.

The phrase 'I want to get out of here' started to be followed by the phrase 'with that girl.'

-I want to show her the outside world.

-If only I could show you the blue sky, the salt-free lake, and the wild animals running in the fields where I was born... …

Bikir closed the diary at this point.

Suddenly, something I had said in the past came to mind.

'It was about 20 years ago? I guess there was an incident where a prisoner was forced to insult a guard? That's why the guards at Nouvelle Vague are particularly sensitive to the worst.'

'Crunch- Cluck- Cluck- I heard that a child was born who was like a by-product of that unpleasant process.'

'You're like a frog born and raised in a well, you've never seen the outside world, right? After all, what right does a bitch born of rape have to walk this earth? 'You're a useless human being, so you're stuck in this deep sea!'

It was also mentioned in Garum's records.

Kirko is a child born and raised in the Nouvelle Vague. A girl who doesn't know the earth.

"Hmm. Is it unrequited love? Or longing? "I don't know how kids this age feel."

Bikir muttered quietly to himself.

Although I have spent quite a bit of time at Colosseo Academy, it is still difficult to understand the teenage sensibilities of young children.

However, I knew this one thing.

Both Garum, who wrote this diary, and the girl named Kirko who appears in this diary, are both beautiful twenty-one year olds.

What would it have been like if they had gone to the Colosseo Academy on earth instead of here at the Nouvelle Vague?

Kirko is a very talented girl, so she might have been the head of the Cold Weapon Donation Department. No, she might have gone beyond that and become student council president.

At first glance, Bikir saw her talent, potential, and will to develop beyond Tudor, Bianca, Sinclair, and Dolores.

"… … But reality is cruel."

Not everyone can live beautifully like a flower.

If there is an up, there is a down.

This was a fact that could be known even if one had not lived through the era of destruction.

Bikir closed the diary completely and turned around.

Then I left the cramped stone room and closed the door, which was not soundproof at all.

Kikigeek- Tung!

Soon, a narrow and smelly hallway comes into view.

Moist and soggy sphagnum moss was growing everywhere as far as the eye could see.

Sea mold that gives off a musty smell, salty moisture that sticks stickily to the skin.

The smoke of cheap cigarettes was thick on the ceiling, where salty water droplets were dripping.

There was always a rotting smell coming from the narrow ice storage room in the corner of the hallway.

When I looked through the slightly open next door, I saw my fellow guard lying on the bed, looking at an old pornographic magazine.

(Because the magazine was published over 60 years ago, it was assumed that the model on the page was already dead.)

Eventually, it was roll call time.

The lower-level guards all came out with wide eyes and lined up in two rows facing each other in the hallway.

While sharing a room, there was no distinction between men and women.

Because of the Nouvelle Vague guidelines that gender is divided into three categories: men, women, and guards, everyone here is treated as the same sex.

at that time.

"… … !"

Among the low-level guards with rotten fish eyes, Bikir noticed one person with particularly bright eyes.

She was Circo.

Kirko lived in a room diagonally away from Garm's room.

'I only encountered it through records, but seeing it in person gave me a strange feeling.'

When Bikir was looking at Kirko blankly.

… Sigh!

Someone hit Bikir hard on the back of the head.

"… … ?"

When Bikir turns his head to see something, he sees the next room and the guards across from him giggling.

"Hey, stupid Garum! Are you spying on Kirko again today? You damn perverted bastard. "You have to know the topic."

"Take care of your clothes. Hold each one again. It's not like I'm showing off my cool uniform. "Do you ever want to look down on the prisoners?"

"In the meantime, why did you put an old name tag on it? "Who went away?"

"As expected, he is like a 'ruined dog.' from morning."

Also known as 'Stupid Garum', or 'Dirty Dog'. That was the nickname that always followed Garum.

Bikir, who had seen Garm's diary, was of course well aware of this fact.

'Humans are similar everywhere.'

It was the same in the army before the return, and it was also the same in the Colosseo Academy after the return.

Humans always bully those who are weaker than them, and when such bullying within an organization becomes a collective phenomenon, it actually contributes to strengthening the organization.

So, even when his classmates bullied him, his seniors and superiors tolerated it.

This was because it was a profitable business if one guard could be sacrificed to increase solidarity among the other guards.

That's why the low-level guards are giggling and casually insulting Garum again today.

"I guess I'll have some free time today because I worked like crazy yesterday."

"Since we have free time, should we play around and harass stupid Garum?"

"Hey, you dirty bastard. Why didn't you show up during the night roll call yesterday? There was no work. "Were you really shipwrecked?"

"Do you know that failing to attend roll call is a violation of military law? Then you might meet a 'black tongue,' you know?"

at that time. One of the guys who was bullying Bikir made eye contact with Kirko, who was looking this way.

Seeing her eyes filled with a mixture of pity and sorrow, the guy laughed and shouted.

"hey! Kirko! Aren't you coming to save your boyfriend? "You guys are like a bunch of kids!"

Then all eyes turn alternately towards Kirko and Garm.

Kirko's eyebrows furrowed.

"… … "You crazy bastards."

Kirko jerked his head away.

Only giggling mockery echoed behind her.

Right then.

Touuuu-

The sound of the horn rang again.

Everyone wipes the smiles off their faces at this sudden alarm, which was sounded completely unrelated to the roll call.

Soon, a guard on watch from the other side of the hallway rushed in and shouted.

"Po, riot! It's a riot! A riot broke out in the Level One area! "Emergency deployment of suppression team!"