“Mr. Wolf”
While I was on my daytime patrol, I heard my name being called out abruptly. It was prisoner No. 106, who was gazing at me from the shadows of his cell.
Alban Prison is home to both convicts and detainees awaiting trial, and this particular individual had been given a six-month sentence for shoplifting.
Typically, the punishment for such a crime would include up to two years of forced labor, but due to the absence of cash in the stolen item and his familiarity with the victim, prisoner No. 106, his offense was reduced to a lesser charge.
Labos, as he was known, used to be a skilled craftsman who specialized in constructing wine barrels.
Perhaps due to his profession, he didn’t resemble a typical criminal; he looked more like an ordinary elderly man you might encounter anywhere.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“I have a small request,” he replied.
“If it’s cigarettes you’re after, they’re sold out for the day.”
My tobacco is popular among the inmates because it’s cheaper than what other guards offer.
I only take a profit of 10 gil per cigarette, but I can sell up to 50 cigarettes in a day, making it a decent source of extra income.
However, some prisoners tried to buy in bulk and resell, so I made it a rule to only sell three cigarettes per person.
I didn’t smoke myself, but for the prisoners, it seemed like a small comfort that could ease their troubled minds.
Not all of them were hardened criminals. Some were fathers who stole food for their starving children or unfortunate prostitutes who had to defend themselves against a non-paying customer who hurt their bedridden husbands.
“Actually, I need you to deliver a letter for me,” he said.
“A letter? How far is the destination?” I asked, hoping it wasn’t too far.
“It’s at an apartment on Sankche Street,” he replied.
Sankche Street was not too far from the Alban prison. If I go on my off duty time tomorrow, I should be able to get there and back in under an hour.
“Hmm? But didn’t your wife visit you yesterday? Why do you need to send her a letter?” I asked.
“Well, you see…the person I want to deliver the letter to is this…” he said as he raised his right hand with his little finger extended.
“Oh? Your lover?” I asked.
“Well, to put it plainly, yes. She’s more of a mistress, actually…” he replied.
Although I don’t discriminate, I was quite surprised to hear this unexpected fact. While prisoner No. 106 didn’t have the face of a criminal, I wouldn’t call him handsome either.
“That’s pretty harsh, betraying your wife like that,” I commented.
Prisoner No. 106’s wife had come to visit with their young child. It made me feel angry to think that while she was struggling to manage everything by herself with her husband in prison, he was sending letters to his mistress.
“Well, don’t give me that nasty look. Please do me this favor, at least,”
The item that prisoner No. 106 presented to me was a 1000 gil silver coin.
It was not a bad payment for a little over an hour’s worth of work.
I didn’t like the idea of assisting with infidelity, but delivering a letter seemed like a small thing that I could turn a blind eye to.
In the end, I convinced myself that it was okay and gave in to greed.
“You’re really splurging,” I said.
“It’s my entire fortune,” he replied.
As a prison guard, I had a good understanding of the prisoners’ financial situations.
I didn’t think prisoner No. 106 was lying, but I couldn’t understand why he would go to such lengths just to contact his lover.
“I’ll have to check the letter’s contents here,” I said.
Since the recipient was a criminal, I had to inspect the letter for anything suspicious.
“Of course,” he replied.
In a deft move, prisoner No. 106 handed over the opened letter to me.
To Marian,
Being in prison is lonely and unbearable. Show me your face. We have a thing going on, don’t we? Or have you forgotten about me already? I cannot forget you, not even for a moment. When you come to visit, could you bring some good food and cigarettes with you? I love you. You might be worried about our relationship being exposed, but don’t worry. No one has noticed our relationship yet. At least not yet. I’ll say it again, I love you.
I couldn’t find anything suspicious in the letter. It was a straightforward expression without any poetic embellishments, yet one could argue that it was somewhat romantic.
Although I feel it’s presumptuous to boldly summon a lover, there’s no law prohibiting visits from lovers. In fact, some political prisoners of noble birth are even allowed to bring their lovers into their confinement rooms.
Perhaps this is considered cute in comparison.
“Alright then. I’ll deliver the letter on my day off tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”
Labos replied briefly with a faint smile, but for some reason, his smile seemed villainous.
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