Ian, José, and Luther followed the Praetorian Guards out through the same exit. The other guards closed the doors behind them after they had passed and tapped a few times on the panel. Luther remained in his sluggish state, as if completely unaware that he had just been sentenced to death. I noticed the Archduke of Golden glaring at them maliciously before catching up with the departing Husky, whispering something into the Archduke of Siberia’s ear. The two remained tangled in conversation until they disappeared behind the door. The other nobles and the gray wolf also left through their respective exits without lingering in the courtroom.

Everything happened so fast. I felt like I was part of a farce where only I couldn’t see the punchline, drowning in the dispersing crowd, utterly at a loss.

I needed to do something.

I knew I needed to do something.

A strange itch on my neck forced me to scratch at it, but I touched something unexpectedly wet and sticky.

Looking at the reddish-brown stain on my nails, I realized that I had already scratched the skin on my neck until it bled.

But now was not the time to be distracted by such trivialities. Once I returned to our room, I pulled out my terminal and connected it to the charging port on the wall.

My long-held suspicions were confirmed—the backdoor I’d guessed at was hidden in the palace’s system, and the sixteen-variable passcode could be used as a key.

The truth behind all of this might be far grander than I had ever imagined.

I typed quickly on the terminal, reading the flickering, jumping digits and symbols, and started encoding.

It’s possible. This can work. I organized all the possibilities in my mind, turning my plan into reality step by step.

Inserting our biometric data into the access control system, granting passage permissions, setting up looping playback for the surveillance footage, rewriting the guards’ schedules and their personal terminals to create gaps in the patrol timing and locations… As for the retreat plan? Every imperial flagship has the capability to open a wormhole. I don’t need to be greedy—just one ship will do. Come to Daddy...

I hadn’t coded with such focus in a long time, and it wasn’t until I had finished all the arrangements I needed to that I realized Ian and José had already returned to the room.

“Explain to me exactly what the lashes is about,” I put down the terminal, crossed my arms, and pressured the coyote, feeling the post-adrenaline crash—the exhilarating exhaustion I’d almost forgotten. It had been so long since I’d fully immersed myself in the world of data and commands.

It seemed like I had interrupted Ian and José’s conversation, but the coyote only hesitated for a brief moment before starting to explain.

“Luther requested more time, and this was the only solution I could think of,” José said, trying to maintain his usual nonchalant attitude toward everything. But I could no longer see him the same way—I knew the truth. “The Seventh Amendment to the Penal Code stipulates that every criminal sentence must be responded to independently. So, while the murder verdict leads to the death sentence, the punishment for assaulting a superior officer still needs to be carried out under military law.” The coyote held up a few fingers, counting. “Luther is a private, so the difference in rank between him and the Admiral is sixteen levels. That means he’ll receive one hundred and sixty lashes.”

“How does that give him more time?” I struggled to keep my temper, making sure not to bare my fangs as I spoke, forcing myself to believe José was genuinely trying to help. “You know full well that no normal person could survive even fifty lashes.”

“The Seventh Amendment also requires that the offender must be in a state fit to endure the entire punishment,” José sighed, rubbing his eyes. Only then did I notice how bloodshot his pale yellow eyes were—they seemed even redder now. “So, the lashes will be spread out over several days.”

“Who the hell thought up such a sadistic thing?” I couldn’t help but curse. “So, you’re telling me they’re going to keep Luther alive just to ensure he suffers more, dragging it out until he’s finally hanged?”

“At least, under the second Appendix, I can supervise and assist in the process, ensuring Luther doesn’t endure any unnecessary suffering and buying as much time as possible,” José said, lowering his gaze, clearly aware of how absurd he sounded. “Because this is what Luther requested—‘no matter the cost.’ Although we don’t know why, I believe we must respect his wishes.”

“Have you ever seen someone hanged, only to be cut down just before they suffocate, only to be hanged again?” I ground my teeth and spoke slowly, though I couldn’t stop trembling. “At first, before the suffocation sets in, their legs kick wildly for quite a while. Some say it looks like they’re dancing.” I let out a derisive snort, baring one side of my fangs in a sneer. “And usually, they’ll lose control of their bladder—unless, of course, they’ve been dehydrated by the previous tortures. By the third time, they won’t even struggle anymore. You’ll have to revive them with a cocktail of blood oxygen agents, adrenaline, and cortisone just to keep them conscious for more of the strangling until they pass out again.” The hairless skin on my neck started itching again, but I tensed my body, forcing myself not to scratch it. “Do you know how cruel that is? That, in the end, death becomes a mercy.”

The room was deathly quiet until the sound of liquid splashing on the floor broke the silence. Only then did I realize I was crying. I tensed up even more, resisting the urge to wipe my face. Let them see. I was long tired of hiding what I was.

José said nothing, just stared at me. In those pale yellow eyes, there wasn’t a flicker of hesitation—just... understanding. Damn it, he knew exactly what I was talking about! So how could he still dare to do this?

“Forget it. None of that matters now,” I pushed aside my pointless thoughts and pointed to my terminal. “We’re getting Luther out!”

After my declaration, Ian and José’s eyes widened in utter disbelief.

“Don’t give me that look. I’m not joking, and the groundwork is already done.” I rolled my eyes dramatically, expressing just how much I appreciated their support and trust. “The access control system, the surveillance loops, the guard patrol routes, the palace layout, and the hidden passages... I’ve set them all up.” I had the terminal project the images onto the wall and briefly explained my plan to them. “All we’re missing now is action!”

“For Rationalism’s sake, Abel!” Ian touched the end of his right eyebrow and his heart. “Did you hack the palace’s system?”

“Wow, Fox,” José raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you think this is a bit extreme?”

“What are you talking about?” I finally snapped, yelling. “Luther—our friend—is about to be horrifically tortured and killed, and you think I’m being extreme?”

“Abel, I know you’re a bit too emotional right now to accept what’s happening,” Ian said in a calming tone, adopting a posture meant to soothe. “But the evidence shows that the Admiral’s current... condition really is Luther’s responsibility. An emotional reaction won’t help anything…”

“I am not being emotional!” How dare you? “But you—why don’t you have even a shred of empathy?” I shouted at the yellow dog, making his already drooping ears droop even lower. “Luther would never harm the Admiral. If you can’t even trust him on that most basic level, you don’t deserve to call yourself his friend!”

“Do you know that Luther is a ‘psychic,’ Abel?” Ian sighed. “They’re not like us. They’re not people we can understand—different from us ordinary mortals. Whatever reason Luther had for killing the Admiral, for a psychic, it’s not surprising. They’re capable of anything.”

“What are you even saying?” I clenched my fists, knowing that if I kept listening to this nonsense, I’d either strangle him or myself. “I couldn’t care less if Luther is a psychic! And what does him being a psychic have to do with the fact that he’s in trouble now and needs our help? Why are you acting like Luther is some kind of freak just because he’s ‘different’ from you?” A bitter sensation welled up in my nose, but I had to keep going. “Do you really know the psychics you’re talking about, or are you just imagining they are ‘different from us‘?”

Ian didn’t respond to my questioning, simply lowering his gaze slightly.

“Luther asked for more time, but I’m not sure this is what he wanted, and I’m pretty certain he wouldn’t want you putting yourself in this much danger.” José of all people was playing the voice of reason? That showed just how bad things were.

“Be rational. You’re talking about a jailbreak, under the noses of the Senate and the Archdukes, Abel!” Ian said, somewhat nervously glancing at the door, as if trying to back José’s argument. “Have you thought about what happens even if you do succeed? What comes next?”

“Cowards!” I was furious, unable to believe that Ian and José had decided to just let those nobles kill Luther. “I know if either of you were in Luther’s place, he wouldn’t be standing here wasting time, making excuses to make himself feel better!” I grabbed my terminal, strapped it to my side, and hooked all the necessary tools to my belt. "Even if he had to jump into the fire to save you, Luther wouldn’t hesitate for a second, not even a flicker of doubt!"

I shoved aside the useless golden retriever and coyote, walking straight out of the room, ignoring their calls behind me.