AT THE CAFETERIA…
The cafeteria had gone quiet.
Not completely.
Hundreds of spoons still scraped against cheap metal bowls. Prisoners still shuffled between tables. Guards still barked the occasional order.
But around one table…the noise seemed farther away.
PN378 walked through the crowded cafeteria with slow, measured steps.
She wasn't smiling, she wasn't crying anymore, she simply watched EBS.
Every step she took made EBS grip the edge of the table a little tighter.
"…She's coming over here," Tucker muttered.
"We noticed," Michonne replied without taking her eyes off the approaching prisoner.
Tongue leaned across the table, squinting. "Who's the girl with the ponytails?"
EBS swallowed. "…Her name's PN378."
"Nobody has names here," Tongue reminded her.
"…She does." EBS said.
PN378 finally stopped beside the table. For several long seconds, she said nothing. She simply stared at EBS.
Studying her every detail. As though trying to memorize every detail of her face.
"…Hi." Her voice was surprisingly soft.
EBS didn't answer.
PN378 tilted her head. "…You're still pretty."
"…Excuse me?" EBS asked.
"I was wondering…" PN378 continued, ignoring the question entirely. "…Have you always had brown eyes?"
"…What?" EBS asked.
"They're nice." Silence. "…I think I'll remember them."
A chill ran down EBS's spine.
Michonne finally spoke. "You threatened to kill her."
PN378 slowly turned her head toward Michonne. "…Yes."
"You planning on doing it now?" Michonne asked.
PN378 looked back at EBS. "…No." A pause, "…Not yet."
Tongue frowned for the first time since arriving in the cafeteria, "You're making Michonne's friend uncomfortable."
PN378 looked at Tongue. "…And?"
Tongue smiled.
For a brief second…the atmosphere around the table shifted.
Two unstable minds. Both smiling. Both completely serious.
Shirley immediately stood, "…Okay."
He stepped between them before anyone else could. "We're not doing this."
He looked toward PN378. "EBS already apologized, I hope. And you already threatened her. So let's just…" He searched for the right words. "…Eat breakfast without anyone trying to kill anybody."
Tucker nodded enthusiastically. "I actually think that's a pretty reasonable goal."
Several nearby prisoners quietly stood up. To watch.
Whispers spread from table to table.
"They're arguing…"
"That's PN378…"
"And that's Tongue…"
"Oh no…"
A veteran prisoner hurriedly picked up his bowl and moved to another table.
Another followed.
Within seconds, an empty circle had formed around them.
Even the guards had begun looking over.
PN378 noticed. She sighed. "…Fight Night. Tonight. Me and you. You win, it's settled, you lose…well then I guess we'll have no more problem."
She looked directly into EBS's eyes. "I'll be waiting."
Then…she turned around, and walked away.
No shouting. No fight. No violence.
Just a promise.
EBS didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until PN378 disappeared into the sea of prisoners.
"…I hate this place," she whispered.
Nobody disagreed.
The circle around their table gradually dissolved.
Once it became clear there wouldn't be a fight, the surrounding prisoners lost interest and returned to their meals.
"…So…" Tucker rubbed the back of his neck. "Can't you just…not fight her?"
Tongue suddenly slammed her spoon against the table.
Everybody looked at Tongue.
Several nearby prisoners immediately looked over.
Tongue shook her head so violently her disheveled hair, whipped back and forth, repeatedly smacking Michonne across the face.
"No! No! No!" she exclaimed.
Michonne slowly pushed a strand of hair away from her eyes.
"…Tongue. Your hair."
Tongue froze.
"…Sorry."
She quickly gathered her hair into her hands before continuing.
"If someone challenges you to a Fight Night…" she explained matter-of-factly, "…you can't refuse."
She shrugged as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "That'd be like saying there's a world outside this prison. Impossible."
Shirley blinked. "…There is a world outside the prison."
Tongue stared at him. "…Are you stupid?"
Shirley's eye twitched. "…Excuse me?"
"I mean…" Tongue tilted her head innocently. "…You've been here for, like…almost a whole day."
"So?" Shirley asked
"So you should know that already." Tounge responded.
"…Know what already?" Shirley asked with genuine confusion.
"That this prison is the whole world."
Shirley opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again. "…I don't even know where to begin with that sentence."
Before he could continue, EBS leaned forward.
"…Wait."
She pointed at herself. "So you're telling me I actually have to fight that psycho?"
Tongue nodded enthusiastically. "Yep!"
EBS's shoulders slumped. "…You've gotta be kidding me."
Tucker slowly looked toward Michonne. "…Please tell me I don't have to fight him."
Michonne didn't even hesitate. "You do."
Tucker's face immediately lost what little color it had left.
He laughed nervously. "…That's not a duel. That's assisted suicide."
Michonne rested her chin on her hand. "I don't know."
She shrugged. "You and Shirley were invited onto the Ascension Gala. I assumed you were stronger than you look."
Shirley glanced at Tucker. "…What if he isn't?"
Tucker whipped around. "HEY! Whose side are you on?!"
Shirley couldn't help laughing. "I'm just saying it's a possibility."
"It's a terrible possibility!" Tucker protested.
EBS sighed, resting her forehead in her hand. "I still can't believe there's literally no way out of this."
A mischievous smile slowly spread across Michonne's face. "Oh…I heard Long-Brow CH2 once ripped an entire man apart…"
She paused dramatically. "…using only his pinky."
Silence.
Shirley burst out laughing. "No way!"
Michonne shrugged. "That's just what I heard."
Tucker stared at her. "…You're lying."
"I might be."
"…'Might?!'" Tucker asked.
Another laugh escaped Shirley. Even EBS managed a tired smile.
For a brief moment…the prison almost didn't feel like a prison.
Then the alarm sounded.
Its mechanical shriek echoed throughout the cafeteria, silencing every conversation at once.
A cold, emotionless voice crackled overhead.
"ATTENTION, PRISONERS. THE FIRST MEAL PERIOD HAS ENDED. ALL PRISONERS ARE TO RETURN TO THEIR ASSIGNED WORKSITES IMMEDIATELY. PRISONERS REASSIGNED TO NEW WORK DETAILS ARE TO REMAIN WHERE THEY ARE UNTIL ESCORTED."
The room erupted into motion. Bowls clattered onto tables. Benches scraped against the floor.
Hundreds of prisoners rose as one and streamed toward the exits with practiced efficiency.
No one wanted to be the last person moving. The five exchanged quiet glances. No words were needed.
Their break was over.
Shirley adjusted the collar of his prison uniform.
Tucker let out one last defeated sigh. "…Back to digging."
Michonne stood, stretching her arms above her head.
Tongue immediately mirrored the exact same stretch beside her.
Michonne glanced sideways. "…Must you copy everything I do?"
Tongue smiled brightly. "Yes."
Michonne sighed. "…I figured."
MENGU'S OFFICE…
"I… I can't take this." Tony's voice was barely above a whisper.
Resting atop the polished desk was a single piece of bark.
It looked ordinary. Dark, weathered, rough around the edges.
Yet the moment Tony looked at it, he couldn't look away. "…This is…" His throat tightened. "…Tree bark?"
Mengu chuckled from the chair overlooking the sunlight. "Not just tree bark."
He rested his chin against one gloved hand. "The Tree of Knowledge."
Silence.
Tony stared. "…You're serious?"
"You sound disappointed."
"I…" Tony swallowed. "…I thought it was a myth."
Mengu laughed. Not loudly. Just enough to make the room uncomfortable. "A myth?"
He leaned back. "Tony… that tree has stood for over three thousand years."
Tony blinked. "…Three thousand?"
He frowned. "That's impossible. Banyan trees don't even live close to that long. They rarely survive beyond several hundred years."
Mengu raised a finger. "And this…isn't an ordinary banyan tree."
The room became strangely quiet.
Even the women standing beside him stopped smiling.
Mengu's voice slowed.
"Over three thousand years ago…"
"…after the time of something called Project UJO…"
He looked toward the enormous window.
"There was a war."
Far beyond the office…
The colossal pink banyan tree swayed.
Its massive trunk groaned.
A deep…ancient…almost sorrowful sound.
Miles away, Shirley instinctively looked up from his shovel.
The sound washed over him like warm wind.
For just a moment, everything around him dissapeared. Then the feeling vanished.
Another shovel of sand. Another command. Another prisoner forced back to work.
Back inside the office…
"For one hundred years…"
Mengu continued,
"…two civilizations tore the world apart."
"One believed the world should continue changing. They worshipped progress. They embraced invention. They welcomed uncertainty. Tried to not repeat histories mistakes."
He paused.
"The other side feared change. They believed history should be forgotten. They believed everything should be simplified. They wanted everything to be easier. They fought to preserve what already existed."
Tony listened without blinking. Every word felt…forbidden.
"The war consumed everything. No kingdom. No island. No family escaped it. The oceans themselves became battlefields. For a century…the world forgot peace."
Mengu slowly spread his arms.
"And when the final battle ended…both sides disappeared."
Tony frowned. "…Disappeared?"
"No victor. No surrender. No celebration. They simply…vanished."
Silence settled over the office.
"The only things they left behind…"
Mengu pointed toward the blue sky. "…were their trees."
Tony slowly looked toward the window. "There were many?"
"Oh yes. One stood at the center of every territory controlled by Progress. They were symbols. Living monuments. But time destroys everything. They burned. They rotted. They were cut down."
He smiled. "Except one. The last survivor. The Tree of Knowledge."
Tony felt goosebumps rise across his arms. "…Why are you telling me this?"
Mengu laughed. "Because I trust you."
Tony didn't believe him. Not for a second.
Mengu reached toward the bark. "Do you know why this tree is feared?"
Tony slowly shook his head.
"They say…" Mengu picked up the bark, "…that anything wished upon a piece of it becomes reality."
Tony stared. "…You're joking."
"I rarely joke." Mengu answered.
A smiley extended the bark toward him.
"Take it." Mengu said.
Tony hesitated. "…It actually grants wishes?"
"So the legends say." Mengu said.
Tony slowly accepted it. The bark felt strangely warm. Almost…alive.
His heartbeat quickened. "…How do you use it?"
Mengu smiled. "Simple. Hold it. Then say…'I wish.'
Tony looked down at the bark with childlike amazement. "…Anything?"
"Anything." Mengu said.
Tony couldn't hide the excitement creeping across his face. "…August never told me that."
"He tells you very little." Mengu said.
Tony laughed quietly. "…He really doesn't."
He clutched the bark tightly. "I think…I know exactly what I'd wish for."
Mengu nodded. "I'm sure you do."
Tony turned toward the exit. The Smileys opened the door.
His footsteps echoed softly across the marble.
Behind him, Mengu calmly reached beneath his desk. He zipped up his trousers. Fastened his belt.
Then looked toward one of the women beside him.
She was shaking. Barely able to breathe. Tears silently streamed down her face.
In her trembling hands, a pistol.
Mengu didn't even look at her. His voice remained almost gentle. "…Now. Take aim."
Her entire body trembled. Fear. Grief. Hatred.
And complete helplessness.
Tony never turned around. He was smiling to himself.
Still whispering his wish. Still holding the bark tightly.
One more step, another…
The gunshot echoed through the office. The bullet tore through the back of Tony's head.
His body collapsed before he ever understood what had happened.
The piece of bark slipped from his fingers.
Blood spread slowly across the polished marble.
Silence.
Then…
Mengu burst into laughter. Loud, uncontrollable.
The women beside him immediately joined in. Their laughter came instantly.
As though someone had flipped a switch.
Mengu wiped tears from his eyes. "He actually believed me."
Another laugh. "He thought I'd give away something priceless."
He leaned back comfortably.
"Now…" He glanced toward the woman still holding the smoking pistol. "…your own wife has killed you."
He clapped once. "What wonderful entertainment."
The woman didn't laugh.
Not anymore.
Her arm slowly lowered. The pistol slipped from numb fingers. Tears continued rolling silently down her face.
She stared at Tony's body. Unable to move. Unable to scream. Unable to mourn.
Because in the kingdom of Mynistria…
Even grief belonged to the king.