The Scum Emperor's Redemption System - Chapter 73

Chapter 73: The Heaviness Of It All (2)
The dim light of a single torch flickered against the cold, damp walls of the underground prison.

Chains rattled softly as prisoners shifted in their restraints, their groans echoing through the suffocating space. The faint scent of mildew mixed with the stench of unwashed bodies and despair.

Among the countless cells, one stood out. The other Fialova, impossibly identical to the real one, was bound tightly against the back wall of her cell, wrists wrapped in sturdy iron shackles that kept her firmly secured.

Her head lolled forward slightly, strands of dark, sweat-matted hair clinging to her face. Days had passed since her imprisonment, but her spirit remained unbroken.

From somewhere beyond the shadows came the sound of boots clicking sharply against the stone floor.

Slow, deliberate, and growing louder.

Fialova’s head snapped up, her gaze narrowing as she recognized the smug cadence.

“Oh, great,” she muttered under her breath. “Just what I need. Him.”

The figure that emerged from the darkness was none other than Denzelle.

The flickering torchlight illuminated his aristocratic features, his perfectly styled hair, and the self-satisfied smirk that seemed permanently etched on his face.

In one hand, he held a clipboard, a ridiculous prop for someone conducting an interrogation, and in the other, a steaming cup of tea.

“Well, well, look at you,” Denzelle drawled, pausing just outside her cage.

He took a leisurely sip of his tea before continuing, “Still managing to look defiant despite being chained to a wall like a particularly sullen gargoyle. How do you do it?”

Fialova rolled her eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t pop out of her head. “Oh, look, it’s the palace peacock. Tell me, Denzelle, did they send you because they ran out of real interrogators, or is this your way of getting attention?”

Denzelle chuckled, setting his teacup and clipboard on a small wooden stool outside the cell. “Oh, Fialova, your wit is as sharp as ever. Though, I must say, you could stand to be a little more grateful. I’ve graced this dreary dungeon with my presence, after all. A rare treat for someone like you.”

“Graced?” Fialova shot back, tugging at her chains. “I’d rather have a rat for company. At least it wouldn’t smell like overpriced cologne and misplaced ego.”

Denzelle ignored the jab, instead producing a quill from his pocket and dramatically twirling it between his fingers. “Let’s get down to business, shall we? I have questions, and you, tragically, have no choice but to answer.”

She leaned back against the wall, her chains clinking softly. “And what makes you think I’m in the mood to talk to you?”

“Oh, you’ll talk,” he said smoothly, pacing in front of her cell like a cat circling a cornered mouse. “You’ve been down here for days, listening to the moans and groans of your fellow inmates. You’re probably dying for a conversation. Even one with me.”

Fialova tilted her head, her lips curling into a smirk. “You think too highly of yourself, Denzelle. But fine, go ahead. Let’s see what nonsense you’ve cooked up this time.”

“Glad to see you’re cooperating,” he said, flashing a toothy grin. He clicked his quill against the clipboard, his expression turning mock-serious. “First question: Who are you?”

Her smirk faded. “You already know who I am.”

“Do I?” Denzelle raised an eyebrow, feigning confusion. “Because you see, the Fialova I know is upstairs, walking around freely, and certainly not chained to a wall. So, forgive me if I’m a little skeptical.”

“I am Fialova,” she said firmly, her voice echoing through the cell.

Denzelle dramatically gasped, clutching his chest like he’d been mortally wounded. “Oh dear, a doppelgänger claiming to be the real deal. How utterly original. Tell me, do you have any proof?”

“I don’t need proof,” she snapped. “I know who I am. And deep down, so do you.”

He leaned against the bars of her cell, studying her with a bemused expression. “You know, you’re awfully confident for someone in your position. Most prisoners would be groveling by now, begging for mercy. But not you. Why is that?”

“Because I don’t fear you,” she said simply. “You’re nothing but a pawn in this twisted game. A glorified errand boy.”

Denzelle’s smile faltered for a brief moment, but he quickly recovered, clearing his throat and straightening his posture. “Well, that’s a bit harsh, don’t you think? I prefer the term ‘indispensable advisor.'”

“Call it whatever helps you sleep at night,” she said with a shrug. “But we both know you’re not the one pulling the strings here.”

He tapped his quill against the clipboard, his expression turning thoughtful. “You’re clever, I’ll give you that. But cleverness won’t save you. Not down here. Not in this palace.”

Fialova’s eyes glinted with defiance. “Then it’s a good thing I don’t need saving.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, the tension between them crackling like static electricity.

Finally, Denzelle broke the silence, clapping his hands together with mock enthusiasm.

“Well, this has been fun, but I think we’re done here. Enjoy the rest of your stay in our lovely accommodations.”

He turned to leave, but her voice stopped him in his tracks.

“You can mock me all you want, Denzelle,” she said, her tone icy. “But deep down, you’re afraid. Afraid of the truth. Afraid of what I might reveal.”

He turned back to face her, his smirk replaced by a faint scowl. “And what truth would that be?”

She leaned forward as much as her chains would allow, her voice dropping to a whisper. “That this palace is a house of lies. And sooner or later, it’s all going to come crashing down.”

For a moment, Denzelle looked genuinely unsettled. But then he laughed, shaking his head. “You really are something, Fialova. I’ll give you that. But if you’re hoping to rattle me, you’ll have to do better than cryptic threats.”

With that, he picked up his tea and clipboard, gave her a mock bow, and strode out of the dungeon, leaving her alone in the dark once more.

Fialova watched him go, a small, triumphant smile playing on her lips. She may have been chained to a wall, but in that moment, she felt like she’d won a small victory.