Chapter 21: Accusations

Chapter 21: Accusations

Gasping for breath,

Demitas, though acting sooner than expected, became acutely aware of the sorry state his body was in. He was undeniably injured and writhing in pain from the merciless beatings.

Upon reaching the corner where his cramped quarters awaited, Demitas, without much deliberation, made the decision to enter.

As he stepped inside, his cellmates, who were already seated, noticed Demitas' arrival and promptly rose to their feet.

"Sir," one of them called out, their voices laced with both fear and respect.

While six of them remained standing, two figures hurriedly approached him. It was Babyface and Misli.

"Demitas!" they both exclaimed, their faces lighting up with relief upon seeing him return.

A smile formed on Demitas' lips as he laid eyes on them. They were the ones who had staunchly defended him earlier, despite being misunderstood and accused of complicity.

Though their happiness was evident, a lingering concern still etched itself onto their faces.

Demitas' pallid skin had been torn, his wounds still fresh. His ragged clothes hung loosely from his body. His eyes were swollen from the tears shed during the assault.

"Demitas, come here," Misli said, gently guiding Demitas' right hand to rest on his shoulder, providing support to help him walk steadily.

After a few steps, Demitas chose to halt. Misli slowly bent down, carefully easing Demitas onto the ground, allowing him to sit more comfortably.

"Are you alright?" Babyface's voice wavered, brimming with concern. Demitas responded with a nod and a smile, which eased Babyface's worry to some extent. However, the visible wounds still weighed heavily on his mind.

"The concoction you had me drink..." Misli trailed off, his tone indicating a request. "Do you have any more of it?"

Though Misli desired to scrutinize Demitas a while longer, he recognized the importance of finding a practical solution to aid his healing and recovery. Demitas simply shook his head in response, denying any possession of the requested substance.

"I'm truly fine, guys, don't worry," Demitas reassured them. "I just need a good sleep."

Babyface and Misli exchanged glances upon hearing his words and reached a mutual decision to give Demitas some space to rest. They understood the importance of allowing him uninterrupted sleep.

In particular, Misli looked at the other members and gestured with his right hand, placing his index finger against his lips. No words were necessary. They comprehended his message and followed suit, creating an atmosphere of silence.

As Demitas rested his head on the bare floor, reminded that slaves were denied even the comfort of blankets, Misli, witnessing his friend's injuries, made a compassionate gesture. He took off his own shirt and gently slid it beneath Demitas.

"No, you didn't have to..." Demitas began, but Misli swiftly hushed him with a soft plea.

"Shhh," Misli requested, urging Demitas to refrain from saying anything further.

Demitas smiled gratefully, accepting the shirt and using it as a makeshift pillow. Though small, it provided a modicum of softness—far better than resting his head directly on the hard ground.

Misli and Babyface rose to their feet, motioning for the others to follow suit as they exited the cell, positioning themselves outside to ensure no one disturbed Demitas' rest.

The mere presence of Misli and Babyface was enough to silence the group, as whispers of Demitas being a murderer had circulated among them.

Fear of repercussions kept their mouths firmly shut, but not everyone adhered to this unspoken agreement.

Among them was a slave named Johan, who harbored skepticism towards Demitas' alleged killings. "Haha, considering how they let him go, I'm pretty sure he hasn't killed anyone," Johan scoffed.

"Sir, then why was he punished? I saw him with so many injuries," a young slave inquired.

Johan stumbled for a moment, caught off guard by the question. However, his quick thinking kicked in, allowing him to concoct a plausible explanation. "I think it has to do with theft," Johan asserted. "Don't you remember how many slaves have been complaining about things going missing lately?"

"Oh... yes, my friend had his bracelet stolen just the other day," another slave chimed in.

"Exactly!" Johan exclaimed, skillfully manipulating their perception. "I believe Demitas was behind it all!"

In truth, nobody knew the true culprit of the thefts, but Johan succeeded in persuading the others to believe Demitas was responsible.

"If this is true, sir, then we need to go and retrieve our stolen belongings from him!" exclaimed another slave seated beside Johan.

"Huh?" Johan was taken aback by the sudden enthusiasm.

"Yes!" the slave affirmed, rallying the others. "Let's go!"

Before Johan could object or reconsider, they all stood up, determined to confront Demitas and reclaim what they believed to be stolen from them.

Meanwhile, Misli and Babyface quietly discussed Demitas' well-being, contemplating the use of herbs to aid his injured legs.

"That's a good idea..." Babyface muttered, his thoughts interrupted as he swiftly made his way towards the exit to gather the necessary herbs. However, just as he reached the corner, where he intended to turn right, he was intercepted by members of Johan's group.

Although Babyface possessed a larger physique, their numbers overwhelmed him. Moreover, Babyface lacked the same level of courage.

"W-What's the matter?" he stammered, swallowing nervously at regular intervals.

"We want to meet Demitas! Where is he!?" demanded the self-appointed leader of Johan's group, urging the others forward.

"Demitas?" Babyface's courage surged upon hearing his friend's name, causing him to adopt a stern demeanor. "Why do you want to meet him?"

"Nothing much, we just want to know if he's alright. We're worried," they replied, feigning sympathy that successfully fooled Babyface. He genuinely believed their concern.

"Oh!" Babyface hesitated, unsure of how to respond. "He's resting over there," he reluctantly divulged Demitas' location, even though they already had a rough idea.

"But don't go now. He needs res—"

Before Babyface could finish his sentence, they darted off, leaving him behind. In a tightly formed line consisting of two or three individuals, they rushed toward the entrance of the cell where Misli and the others stood. Their voices rang out loudly, almost shouting, startling Misli and the rest.