When Mo Zimu returned to his cell, he found someone new there. It was the blond, handsome boy who had his ribs broken by the loud-mouthed Adolf. Now, he was lying on the lower bunk.

“Hello!” The boy appeared delicate and polite. He extended his hand and said, “I’m Jude. I’ve always wanted to thank you.”

Mo Zimu shook his hand and replied indifferently, “No need. I didn’t do much to help you.” Then, he climbed onto the top bunk. Across from him, Tom grinned and gave him a knowing look. “Man, you really made a name for yourself with that pencil stunt! Who would’ve thought you had the guts to blind a guard? Ruthless.”

Mo Zimu lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. Ruthless? If he had been a little more ruthless, Powell would be dead instead of just blind.

Tom laughed. “You stabbed Powell in the eye and only got a week in solitary? That’s a damn good deal.”

“Did you really blind a guard?” Jude stood at the edge of the bed, his face full of admiration.

Mo Zimu pulled his pillow over his head, smiled faintly, and didn’t answer. Tom, however, snapped, “Fish, are you doubting what I said?”

Jude, still excited, exclaimed, “I always knew you were special! Do you know Chinese kung fu?”

“No,” Mo Zimu replied honestly.

Tom, who didn’t seem too fond of Jude, changed the subject. “Seven, it’s Hunter season again.”

Mo Zimu had already learned that the first month of each season was known as Hunter Month. During this month, on many Hunter Nights, prisoners were selected like items off a menu and thrown into the Mammon Forest, becoming prey for others to hunt.

Tom pulled a small white cloth pouch from under his blanket and tossed it to Mo Zimu, saying, “You’ll need this!”

Mo Zimu opened it to find a small, sharp file. Tom spoke in a low voice, “Don’t underestimate this file. It might just save your life when the time comes! We’re unarmed here, and any metal object in this prison is a treasure. This little thing is worth at least three hundred bucks, so hide it well.”

Mo Zimu glanced at the small, square-tipped weapon and chuckled lightly. He thanked Tom and put it away.

Jude looked enviously at the cloth pouch in Mo Zimu’s hands but didn’t say a word.

Soon, there was a commotion outside the prison, and Tom immediately got up, swiftly climbing down from his bed. “The first group is back,” he said.

Tommy was already at the bars, watching the scene. He murmured, “Three.”

“Three what?” Jude asked casually.

“Three made it back alive,” Tom replied.

Jude sucked in a sharp breath. “How many went in?”

“Ten.” Tom muttered, “Who the hell were they up against? I’ve never seen a batch this brutal.”

When the yard bell rang, Mo Zimu, Tom, and Tommy stepped out onto the field. Jude stuck close to Mo Zimu’s side. No matter how much Tom disliked him, he didn’t seem able to shake him off.

As they walked, Mo Zimu looked toward the distant Caribbean Sea and said, “Can you get me a piece of reading glasses?”

Tom burst out laughing. “Are you seventeen or seventy?”

“Can you or can’t you?”

Leaning against the chain-link fence, Tom smirked. “The only one in the whole prison with reading glasses is Kaspersky, the guy who delivers the meals. But if we take his glasses, I’m afraid he might mess up his reports later, haha.”

“Just one lens will do.”

Privacy was plentiful in prison, so Tom didn’t bother asking what Mo Zimu needed the glasses for.

The two approached Kaspersky, who was from A Block and was sitting on the bleachers in the basketball court.

Mo Zimu and Tom flanked him, sitting on either side. Tom spoke first, “Hey, old man, we need some information.”

Kaspersky replied dryly, “A lot of people want information lately…”

Tom pulled out a piece of paper and said, “We’re offering this amount.”

Kaspersky seemed puzzled by such an unusual bidding method but took out his reading glasses, inspecting the paper carefully. “For this price, you can ask three questions.”

Mo Zimu spoke up, “Where does the prison supply ship come from?”

Kaspersky removed his glasses and looked at him. “From the Edward CCA private dock in St. Croix.”

Mo Zimu followed up, “What kind of ship is it?”

This time, even Tom gave him a curious look.

Kaspersky replied, “A standard 1,000-ton cargo ship. It has a freshwater tank, and the ventilation shafts are on the deck. You have one question left.”

“How many guards are on board?” Mo Zimu asked.

Kaspersky looked at him slowly and said, “That’s two questions. One asking if there are guards, and the other asking how many.”

Mo Zimu smiled and rephrased, “Are there any security personnel on board?”

Kaspersky smirked. “Smart kid. There are three CCA security guards on board. They’re armed. That one’s on the house.”

He stood up and started down the steps but paused after a few paces. Over his shoulder, he said, “Boy, you’re too young. No one has ever successfully escaped Mammon. The moment you step into a non-Hunter zone, the alarms will go off. See that tower over there?

“Once the sirens blare, that spotlight will pin you down, leaving you nowhere to hide. Then, the bullets start flying. In less than a minute, you’ll be riddled with holes. Even the workers loading and unloading shipments only follow designated paths, never knowing the full layout or the exact security triggers. I’ve seen plenty of smart escapees, all as sharp as you. Every single one of them is dead.”

Mo Zimu simply nodded. “I’m just looking to see if I can get a job as a transport worker.”

Then, he turned and left with Tom.

Tom chuckled as he subtly pulled half a pair of glasses from his shirt sleeve and winked at Mo Zimu.

That evening, Mo Zimu returned to his cell with several book covers he had borrowed from the library. Rolling them into a tube, he removed one lens from his own glasses and another from Kaspersky’s reading glasses, adjusting the distance between them until he had fashioned a crude monocular.

He lifted it to his eye and peered across the yard.

Tom took it from him, looked through it, and whispered in astonishment, “Shit, it’s so clear! I didn’t realize James was the bottom in that pairing. I always thought he was the one fucking Stephen.”

He lowered the monocular and said, “Seven, you went to all this trouble to steal Kaspersky’s lens just to make this spyglass?”

Mo Zimu simply replied, “Mm,” as he disassembled the monocular. He marked the positions of the two lenses on the paper tube before reinserting the lenses into his glasses.

“Are you really planning to escape?” Tom asked.

At his words, both Jude and Tommy turned their attention to Mo Zimu.

“Just bored,” Mo Zimu replied flatly.

Tom shrugged, while a flicker of disappointment crossed Jude’s face. Only Tommy spoke up, “Almost every batch of prisoners sent to Mammon has a few who dream of escaping. But most either die during a Hunter Night or get turned into Swiss cheese when they enter the alarm zones.”

Jude asked, “Why not swim? I mean, couldn’t someone just jump into the sea and swim away?”

Tommy cast him a dismissive glance and said, “The currents around Mammon Island are especially strong, especially at night. Here, swimming a hundred meters is harder than swimming a mile anywhere else. No one can swim ten nautical miles to St. Croix Island at night. Anyone who tries just drowns.”

“You know why there are no coconut trees on this island?” Tom shook his head and grin, “Because they’re afraid we’ll escape by floating on coconut shells… Hahaha…”

Mo Zimu jumped onto his bed, silently clutching the reading lens in his hand.

—-

The next morning, at breakfast time, the frail, elderly Kaspersky wheeled his food cart over. He stopped at the cell door, shoving the food through, and then said, “Give me back my glasses.”

Tom leaned casually against the bars, smirking. “What glasses? Why are you asking us?”

Kaspersky’s tone remained dry. “Because I have an important piece of information for your cell. If you don’t return my glasses, I might not be able to share it with you.”

Mo Zimu moved to the bars, covering the reading lens in his hand. “Kaspersky, I can trade you a very important piece of information for one lens.”

Kaspersky’s murky eyes stared at him blankly.

Mo Zimu added, “I can tell you who framed you and got you sent to prison.”

Kaspersky responded indifferently, “Give me my glasses, and that lens can be yours as a gift.”

Mo Zimu hesitated, then asked, “Don’t you want to know—”

“This way, I’ll live longer.” Kaspersky took back his glasses and, at the same time, slipped them a folded note. “Good luck,” he said before pushing the food cart away.

Tom raised an eyebrow and unfolded the note. His face immediately tensed as he read it aloud: “The next Hunter Night’s prey… is us.”

He muttered bitterly, “We were probably sold out by that Pusbucket again.”

Tommy’s face remained emotionless as he took his food and said, “Finish eating and go gather some intel.”

Mo Zimu and Tom each picked up their portions and started eating. Jude was so nervous that he couldn’t even swallow his dry bread, his hands shaking so much that he spilled his water several times.

During recreation time, Tom wasted no time gathering information and came back to share it with the group.

“I’ve got good and bad news. Which do you want to hear first?” Tom asked upon his return.

“Start with the good news,” Tommy replied. “Don’t scare them too much.”

“This time, there are only two hunters, and unlike the others, they won’t be using the wolves.”

Jude let out a sigh of relief, but Mo Zimu remained unbothered. “And the bad news?” he asked.

“One of them has dark brown hair, speaks fluent Spanish, and is likely Colombian. He hides somewhere high with a sniper rifle, shooting your legs one by one before letting the wolves in Mammon Forest tear you apart piece by piece.”

“The other is Asian and wields a curved blade. He kills with a single downward slash, splitting open your stomach and spilling your guts onto the ground.”

Jude turned pale and vomited on the spot.

Tommy’s face darkened further, while Mo Zimu continued to idly play with the stone in his hand.

Apart from the four of them, the rest of the inmates seemed at ease. With Hunter Month nearing its end and C Block marked as the final target, they knew they would survive for this season.

Despite the lingering tension from the note, the yard began to regain its usual liveliness. Ivan swaggered in, his tall frame and buzzed haircut cutting through the crowd. His cold expression alone was enough to make everyone instinctively step aside.

However, one man was unlucky enough to not watch where he was going and accidentally bumped into him. Ivan casually grabbed the stunned man and tossed him aside. A loud thud echoed, followed by a painful scream.

Sticks grinned and said with a sinister tone, “The U.S. government should open a special prison just for idiots like them.”

Ivan scratched his eyebrow and said, “Don’t say that. Where would the U.S. president live then?”

The others burst into laughter, one man laughing so hard he couldn’t stop, convulsing as he gasped, “Boss Ivan, haha, you’re too funny. I-I-Ivan…”

Ivan raised a thick eyebrow and turned his head. “Damn, now I actually support your idea.”

As his gaze shifted, it naturally landed on Mo Zimu, who stood nearby. From this angle, with his head slightly lowered and his neck curving gracefully, Ivan felt an inexplicable itch.

The younger man appeared slender and inconspicuous, his large glasses making him easy to overlook. But a closer look revealed something entirely different.

He was quite tall, something Ivan had noticed the first time they met and kissed. There was something uniquely captivating about him, making people want to take another look, and then another. Especially those hands, long and slender, appearing soft but proving strong upon touch.

So when he heard that Mo Zimu had blinded a prison guard with a pencil, Ivan wasn’t as shocked as everyone else.

At that moment, he found himself wanting to see what lay beneath those oversized glasses.

Just then, Mo Zimu tossed aside the stone in his hand and walked toward the library.

A faint smile appeared on Ivan’s lips. While casually joking with the others about something lewd, he found an excuse to slip away. His footsteps followed the path Mo Zimu had taken.