I Met The Male Lead In Prison Chapter 118 - As Expected, This Genre Is A Waste (1)

Chapter 118 – As expected, this genre is a waste (1)

Translator: SKAIS Editor: Eyeful Solstice

And there was another symbol, a picture, in this room. The picture of the door I saw in my room and this, were not just carved on the wall, but seemed to have been scratched with a knife.

Who could have possibly done this? From the look of it, carving the picture using a knife seemed like a very tedious process. There could have been other possible ways, right? They could have hired a skilled wall carver… and there are supposed to be other tools… but this?

I narrowed my eyes as I looked at the wall.

“Hmm…by the way, there’s nothing else aside from the red rose. If I remember correctly, was there an animal next to it when I was in the cell?” I whispered to myself.

In the cell, there was a strange-looking animal next to the red rose, but there was only a red rose on this wall. Furthermore, next to the white rose is a beast crouching as if it was holding a rose from what I’ve seen in the cell.

Not long after my wander, I went back to my room. If I try to roam any further, my attention would easily divert.

Then I squatted down in front of the table and started what I was going to do with parchment paper and the pen. The work of ruminating the original plot.

I don’t know what the relations.h.i.+p between the roses and the animals and the patterns is, but it won’t be too late for me to know once I finish this.

“Okay Iana, let’s start from the beginning.” I told myself, and let out a deep breath.

It started when the heroine went to the Kambrakam cell because of a crime.

The pen pressed down on the parchment. I could only hear the sound of the pen sc.r.a.ping against the surface of the stiff parchment paper resonating inside the room. But soon my hand holding the pen stopped. I stared at my hand holding the pen, and then on the parchment paper.

It felt strange.

No. This is a rated-19 romance novel with a love triangle. Or at least that’s how this story was supposed to be. There’s still a lot of other things going on in between the scenes aside from the events and information I just gathered along the way. There are more things aside from the contents. In fact, there were a number of them I could remember.

Several scenes, in the cell, in the bed, in the lawn, and three people moving… But instead of writing, a so-called “reality hit” came to me.

“No, no. The moment I was out of the cell, I should think back about it.”

I didn’t panic and calmly drew a line and wrote the word scenes, and little by little recalled the contents and events of the novel.

This time, the normal contents gradually lined up. The more my hands went down writing, the stranger my expression grew. I could say it was because of the tightness I could feel on my forehead. I have been frowning all this time, that somehow, I could not return my face to its resting expression no matter how hard I tried to relax.

“…It wasn’t just a rated-19 novel because it was erotic.” I mumbled to myself, and this time, I felt my lips smirked.

I read the scenes that I wrote.

–In the cell, the prisoner held the hand of the heroine. (Support)

–The person who tried to sell the heroine to another country was taken away and dragged to death.

-The heroine and her sister were dragged into a coal mine.

– Reporter trying to stalk the heroine suddenly crippled.

-The mysterious death of an aristocrat who was obsessed with the heroine in the social circle.

– Those with resentment explode the villain’s house with bombs.

-The female lead’s escape from imprisonment…

The moment I read this far, I let out a long, deep breath. I wrote until the ending, and I didn’t need to read it any further. In addition, there were some that came to my mind, but there was no need to write it anymore.

I’ve already made up my mind.

That’s it. This is it.

Somehow, all the scenes I’ve jotted down were about the villains’ journeys. Not all of them were Chaser because there’s about Lenag’s as well, but most of them were of Chaser’s.

Has this novel gone like that? It’s not a love triangle… not at all…

Strange.

It was not the time to worry about the heroine, who will be imprisoned in the future.

‘… will my neck get cut off first?’ I wasn’t just saying it. It was real. There’s a huge possibility that I might even end up being the first one to die.

Because most of the content behind this was that Chaser would pay the price for the troubles he scattered in the first half. Karma would work silently; this I always know. He did not go through it alone, but suffered retaliation for the entire mansion being blown away.

It was a great final curtain to know that I could be safe until the end knowing what would happen. But would that really be the case? What if I never get to the end? What if the whole story has entirely changed, even on the way it would end?

When I thought about it myself, I felt like I was just a korean paper. I wouldn’t be strong enough to last too long. I don’t have powers… I just have my plain curious self. I’m going to rip quickly even with the smallest force.

On the other hand, Chaser, my dear brother, was made of steel and a crazy material that can’t be cut off. The way he was made is just too powerful and I’m entirely unsure how a plain korean paper like me would be able to clash against a crazy steel. I will just be an easy prey, for he was a man of thirst.

Hence, now was not the time to consider why he was so friendly and so soft, as if he was like silk. He’s… different. He’s new.

Shortly afterwards, I made a quick decision.

“All right.” I told myself.

I folded the parchment neatly and filled the basin with water. The ink slowly mixed with water making it black.

I looked forward to it. “Let’s go. I can do this.” I whispered.

My voice… it was so refres.h.i.+ng, as if I could feel a huge hope inside of me, irradiating from within.

⛓ ⛓ ⛓ ⛓ ⛓ ⛓ ⛓ ⛓ ⛓ ⛓ ⛓ ⛓ ⛓ ⛓ ⛓

The afternoon glow of the sun somehow made its way to my room’s side windows. A thin ray crept to the edge of the bed and I stared at it for a while. I stood up, and made my way towards where the sun’s ray was directed, and turned my back on it to see my silhouette from across the room.

I was ready to go out. My silhouette grew smaller and smaller as I made my way to the door, until it disappeared, revealing the thin ray once again. I closed the door of my room to take my leave and there was no sound. All these doors…they still give me a strange feeling by the fact that they don’t click or crunch or tweak even a little when they’re being moved.

Although I was determined to go off in the morning, it was not something that could be done immediately. I can’t just go empty-handed. Anyway, I haven’t familiarized myself with the geography of this zone. Furthermore, I’m going to take a look at some of the housekeeping.

When I thought I was an Einte, I had this little desire to live as a high-ranking aristocrat but it suddenly disappeared. It was because I thought it would be a good idea for me to work in a bakery and live a normal life in a quiet neighborhood. Moreover, it is also a skill to set such a simple goal.

Well yeah, I’m not suddenly asking for a bakery. When I was in prison a long time ago, I heard about the bakery from Young-Ae, who was a cell mate of mine. She had been a maid because her half-brothers bullied her, and from her story, which could not be heard without tears, she found that the empire had a better urban system than expected, and that there was a bakery in a quiet city where wheat was the staple food.

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