"The Madman! Are you insane? Who in their right mind would volunteer to be his manager?"
"Yeah, absolutely no one! The previous manager was brutally dismembered in the middle of the open market. They didn't even find all the pieces!"
"The previous one? Bah. All of his managers have met unimaginably gruesome deaths. Compared to what the Madman does to his handlers, getting beaten half to death by the guards here is a mercy."
"B-but..." a timid, shivering young boy stuttered, wrapping his thin arms around himself, "if no one chooses to be his manager, then the wardens will just execute us all anyway. Our death isn't far away either."
Thud! A massive, ferociously scarred hand slammed down, patting the timid boy's frail shoulder. The giant inmate towering over him sneered, his voice a low rumble.
"Boy, choose your death wisely. I'd rather choose to die right here, right now, than live every single day in absolute terror waiting for that psycho to snap."
Gulp. The timid boy forcefully swallowed his remaining thoughts. He stared blankly up at the bleak, reinforced ceiling of the prison cell, looking as if he were letting go of all his worldly attachments and accepting his grim fate.
All around the massive holding cell, sharp, vicious arguments reverberated off the cold iron walls. The sheer despair and panic in the air were enough to send freezing chills through anyone's heart.
Among the terrified crowd, one boy with pale, mid-tone skin sat entirely completely isolated. He kept his head lowered, his hazy, unfocused azure eyes staring blankly at the filthy concrete floor.
'Where am I?'
'Who am I?'
Suddenly, a violent spasm wracked his body. He clutched his head with both hands, his fingers digging into his scalp as he slumped forward onto his knees.
"Argh! My head is splitting!"
He clenched his teeth so hard they threatened to crack. His pale face drained of whatever little color it had left, and he pressed his throbbing skull tightly between his knees.
The faint, ghostly echo of a blood-curdling scream and the lingering phantom heat of a terrifying blue flame burned at the edges of his fractured mind.
Drip. A thick drop of blood fell from his nose. The dry, grimy soil of the prison floor greedily absorbed it, waiting expectantly for the next crimson bead currently hanging from the corner of his trembling lips.
A single moment stretched on, feeling like an absolute eternity of localized agony.
Finally, his vice-like grip on his own head began to loosen. The violent hammering inside his skull slowly ceased.
His hazy eyes blinked, slowly regaining a fraction of their clarity and color. Trembling from the aftershocks of the pain, he forced himself to stand up. He stared blankly at the massive, chaotic crowd of prisoners who were still chattering endlessly about their impending doom.
Licking his cracked lips, he spat out the metallic-tasting blood and swallowed hard, trying to forcibly calm his frayed nerves.
'I am... Code Number 31.'
Slowly, disjointed fragments of an identity clicked into place, and his eyes darted back and forth across the terrified crowd.
'I am in prison. And my sole, immediate purpose for existing right now... is to become the manager of the rising champion.'
Gradually, he reached a baseline conclusion of who he currently was, where he was trapped, and what his immediate survival required. That basic framework was enough for his buried instincts to take over. He knew exactly what he had to do to avoid the indiscriminate execution of the herd.
"I'll become the manager!"
A sharp, bold voice—carrying an undeniable authority that sharply contrasted with his battered, pale body—reverberated throughout the entire holding cell.
Instantly, pin-drop silence descended upon the panicked crowd.
"Who?!"
"Who is the madman that just volunteered?!"
Suddenly, the prisoners roared in unison, their shocked voices echoing off the iron bars as they frantically searched the crowd.
A single hand raised high into the air. The sharp, unyielding voice cut through the noise once more.
"I said I'll become the manager, you pathetic mongrels! You are nothing but cowards who only choose to live at the lenient mercy of death!"
Everyone's eyes widened in sheer disbelief, but before anyone could curse him or voice their outrage, the boy stepped forward, his voice resonating with a strange, undeniable gravity.
"Have you all forgotten your purpose? Why were you even born? Just to be sneered at and slaughtered like livestock?!" he demanded, his gaze sweeping over the hardened criminals.
"No. Never! Then why are you hiding like terrified children? Because you fear death? Death only comes for you once, but living in fear will swallow your entire life! You pathetic fools can't even understand this basic truth. Stop trying to justify your cowardly choices with false logic. A foundation built on fear will always crumble and drive you even deeper into the abyss!"
Bzzzt!
"Code Number 31!"
A harsh, synthesized voice suddenly boomed through the mechanical speakers mounted across the ceiling. The boy's gaze wandered upward, quickly understanding how the wardens had singled him out so fast.
'Cameras. They are fitted in every possible dimension of this building, leaving absolutely no blind spots.'
Shrugging his shoulders to release the lingering tension, he strode confidently toward the main prison gate. The sea of prisoners instinctively parted to make way for him.
Some looked at him with fantasizing awe, some sneered in disgust, while others glared with pity—each displaying their own distinct reactions to a boy walking willingly toward his own execution.
Stopping before the heavy iron bars, the boy found two heavily armored guards waiting for him. They wore featureless metal masks and held high-caliber rifles tightly against their chests.
"Step out and come behind us," one of the guards ordered mechanically as the gate slid open.
The boy nodded silently and followed them into the bleak, fluorescent-lit corridors.
After winding through numerous security checkpoints and cell blocks, they finally arrived before a monumental, heavily reinforced door. It looked less like a gate and more like the entrance to an impenetrable military fortress.
The two guards abruptly stopped and returned to their rigid standing positions on either side of the corridor.
"Beyond that door begins your journey as a manager," the guard stated coldly.