Chapter 3: The Death Row Inmate_1

The next day, in the warden's office.

"Warden, all the blocks have been inspected, with no anomalies," Flandre respectfully reported to Aiden, who was seated behind the office desk.

"Hmm, good," Aiden nodded, his head buried in paperwork.

"These are the letters delivered to the warden's mailbox today, I brought them over for you," Flandre presented a neatly bundled stack of envelopes.

"Why are there so many today? Are there any with official seals?" Aiden glanced up.

"No, all of them are ordinary correspondence."

"Then put them aside for now, I'll look at them later," Aiden gestured with his pen towards a corner of the desk.

The mailbox of the Rose Iron Prison warden was open to the public. Besides work-related correspondence, it also accepted mail from civilians to collect feedback, a system established by Aiden upon taking office.

However, common people rarely sent mail to prisons; most ordinary letters were from inmates' relatives, friends, or other related individuals, containing all sorts of content.

These letters were a low priority in his work and were usually addressed last.

"And this is the suggestion form submitted by inmates from the Core Zone yesterday, which I have sorted out for your review," Flandre offered another piece of report paper.

The policy that allowed inmates to regularly submit suggestion forms to the warden was another of Aiden's initiatives. It would have been unimaginable for such a channel of communication between inmates and jailers to exist in the past Rose Iron Prison.

"Just read it to me," Aiden instructed without lifting his head.

"Inmate Phillipa from Cell Two requests to purchase a fur comb, stating it's for grooming during the shedding season..."

"Approved."

"All inmates in Cell Four request that the reading room acquire the complete set of novels 'The Domineering Duke of Hell and the Little Witch.'

"They can stomach such trashy novels? Approved."

"Katherine from Cell Six requests to buy a dagger, claiming it's just for warding off evil."

"Rejected, tell her not to take the guards for fools."

"Also from Cell Six, Anna... she left a message on her request form saying she'll hang you sooner or later and then hoist your corpse on the mast of her flagship."

"Rejected. Replace that pirate's meals with her most hated dried radishes for the next few days."

"Succubus Phyllis from Cell Thirteen requests a reduced sentence, promising to thank you in a 'special way'..."

"Rejected, tell her to prepare for solitary confinement if she submits such a request again!"

...

Aiden responded to each inmate's request as read by Flandre, while methodically advancing through his work; Flandre couldn't help but show a hint of admiration for her superior.

No one but Aiden himself knew why he was able to handle the job so proficiently; mainly, it was due to work experience from another world.

Before coming to this world, he had been a dedicated prison guard known by another name in a world without magic and fantastical creatures, until his early demise from illness.

Then, inexplicably, in this world, his soul transmigrated into the body of a young police officer who had been assassinated in the suburbs, beginning a new life.

The previous "Aiden" was a Senior Investigator adept in gunfighting, swordsmanship, and even dark magic, working for an enforcement agency known as the Heresy Inquisition Bureau. He had captured many dangerous criminals, including the vampire prince Ophelia, who had escaped from prison the day before—establishing many deadly enemies in the process.

After inheriting the memories of the former Aiden, he quickly realized a severe problem—with his level of experience, maintaining such a position in his second life would probably lead to an untimely death.

Luckily, he soon discovered that, in this world, he had the opportunity to transfer to other departments of the judiciary. Abiding by the principle of loving the work you do, he managed by all means to transfer to prison work and, as in his previous life, became a prison guard.

In just a few years, he used the experience accumulated from his former life to rise to the position of warden.

Though he lacked the conventional golden fingers of his fantasy counterparts, his past life experience proved useful, and on the whole, he was relatively satisfied.

After finishing his immediate work, Aiden looked up, surprised to see Flandre was still standing in front of his desk, and asked, "Is there anything else?"

"There are some new inmates who will be transferred here tonight, I need to report to you about it," Flandre answered.

"What kind of inmates?"

Aiden knew this wouldn't be an ordinary inmate; regular inmates being incarcerated didn't require a special report to him as warden but would simply be mentioned briefly in the weekly reports with identity and case information, such as the pimping succubus from yesterday.

"It's a high-ranking officer from the cavalry police, named Veronica Wolfe, twenty-two years old, sentenced to hanging for the murder of civilians. The execution date is set for the twelfth of next month, and she has been ordered to be transferred to the Core Zone."

"Why transfer to the core zone?" Aiden pressed.

Having murderers in the Rose Iron Prison wasn't exactly a rarity; a transfer to the core zone of Rose Iron Prison was unnecessary for those who weren't dangerously difficult to contain in other prisons—and there was no need to report specifically to him.

"She is a pureblood werewolf," Flandre added.

"I see," Aiden realized.

Werewolves, due to a curse, are given the special ability to transform into wolves; they also suffer from the symptom of losing their sanity and being driven by a bestial urge to kill whenever they see the full moon.

Pureblood werewolves refer to those whose entire bloodline is cursed and who are born with the werewolf curse.

Their transformed state is more potent than that of ordinary werewolves, and of course, their frenzied state when out of control is even more terrifying.

Regular prisons find it quite difficult to contain werewolves; the powerful ones, when transformed, could snap chains with their bare hands and easily take jailers hostage. This was the main reason this criminal was transferred to the Rose Iron Prison Core Zone.

"So a werewolf can actually become an officer in the mounted police—must be either outstanding ability or some backdoor strings," Aiden remarked casually.

As a public servant of the judiciary, Aiden had a certain understanding of the internal atmosphere of the police force. Werewolves, due to the risk of losing control, were shunned by the public; department leaders, fearful of assuming responsibility, would never willingly recruit such people, let alone place them in significant roles.

"According to her record, her personal abilities are indeed extraordinary. She passed the police force's selection test with a perfect score at seventeen, captured two A-level fugitives and even earned a second-class merit during the management of a catastrophic magical beast disaster. Due to her remarkable performance, she was favored, and the accident this time also led to her superior's punishment."

"Such a rising star of the police force, turned death row inmate—that's quite interesting," Aiden nodded, "When is the transfer?"

"Tonight."

"Then schedule another inspection tomorrow morning; I'll meet this new inmate."

"Understood," Flandre was about to leave when she noticed Aiden's cup was empty, "I'll refill your tea."

"No need to bother..."

"It's no trouble at all, just a moment's work."

Flandre took the teacup courteously and exited the office towards the tea room.

"Morning... huh, isn't that the warden's cup?" Another colleague who came to pour tea greeted her.

"Yeah, serving tea to the big shot," Flandre replied while pouring the tea.

"Absolutely, we need this kind of service. Without this big shot being transferred here, how could we have a good time drinking tea?" The colleague shook her head as if in reflection, "Thinking back to those days when we were so busy we couldn't go home for days, my husband nearly divorced me."

"Okay, keep that flattery to yourself, or maybe you should just be in charge of serving his tea from now on?" Flandre laughed.

They were both considered veteran jailers of Rose Iron Prison, with tenure far exceeding Aiden's.

When Aiden transferred to the Rose Iron Prison, his apparent age was just over twenty, and many worried whether such a young man could handle the work here.

After all, Rose Iron Prison concentrated some of the most dangerous witches on the continent; mystical mayhem and frequent accidents, jailbreaks, and riots were all too common.

Comparatively, Thorn Iron Prison, a men's prison of the same level, constantly overshadowed Rose Iron Prison in terms of attention; the consistent shortage of funds and staff made management extremely difficult.

Even the warden from ten years ago was killed by an inmate during a large-scale riot. After that, his successors either resigned proactively or tried everything to get transferred—until Aiden, through his outstanding performance, was promoted to this position against the odds.

Upon taking office, Aiden immediately promoted a series of reforms to resolve the prison's difficulties.

He established a prisoner treatment grade system, utilized various rewards and disciplinary methods to train inmates, offered perks to highly capable model prisoners to use as pawns, enhanced the education and reform department, and set up reading rooms and sports facilities to alleviate the inmates' repressed emotions...

Through these methods, he quickly brought orderly management to the entire Rose Iron Prison, turning it from the worst prison in Silvertown to one that received commendations year after year.

As discipline and performance improved, the jailers' work also became much easier.

Everyone was grateful for this young and resourceful warden; no one knew where he got so many ideas, but in the eyes of everyone, this boss had both strategy and authority, a big shot to cling to.

"By the way, you didn't forget to report about the death row inmate, did you?" the colleague reminded her while pouring tea.

"How could I forget such a big matter?" Flandre shook her head.

"I heard the guy even injured the colleagues who came to arrest her and tried to attack the judge during the trial. Truly frightening, to kill someone just because of a few harsh words said in the heat of the night," the colleague lamented with a cluck of the tongue, holding the teacup, "Allowing a werewolf to be a cop, I wonder what the mounted police force was thinking."

"Such death row inmates are the most troublesome; there's no telling what kind of incident she might cause. Frankly, I'm a bit worried," Flandre frowned slightly, "We have to feed this monster for over a month until her execution day, and the prison's enchantments can only seal magic, they're useless against this kind of werewolf."

"That scene... the warden should be able to handle it," the colleague said, not without concern.

"Yes, let's hope nothing goes awry."