Ch.6First Day on the Job! (3)

“Excuse me, officer?”

Dexter, who had been wandering around aimlessly, turned his head toward the voice.

“…?”

A pale face with green eyes surrounded by visible whites—heterochromia.

Plus a skinny frame that would make grandmothers gasp in shock and bring truckloads of food.

If there was anything about her that might appeal to Dexter, it was her light brown hair—wavy, glossy, and long enough to reach her chest.

“What is it… Blueberg?”

Dexter spoke while looking at the inmate ID card attached to Jesse’s right chest.

“I heard you’re new here?”

“That’s correct, but what does my being new have to do with an inmate?”

Dexter replied curtly, having absolutely no desire to form a close relationship with any inmate.

As the troublemaker from Block 2 and the new officer stood close together, whispers from surrounding inmates became audible.

“What’s that crazy bitch up to now?”

“Don’t you know? She’s probably trying to intimidate the new officer.”

‘An inmate intimidating a new officer?’

What kind of talk was that? It would completely undermine an officer’s authority.

Dexter desperately wanted to use the radio slung over his right shoulder, but he focused on the words of another inmate that followed.

“How many times has she ended up in solitary for this kind of thing?”

“Leave it alone. If we get involved, we’ll be the ones bleeding.”

The quiet grumbling gave him some hint.

‘She commits acts knowing she’ll end up in solitary. Getting involved with this inmate means bleeding.’

There was one word to describe such a person.

‘She’s insane.’

Why else would someone challenge a correctional officer?

Dexter placed his hands on his hips and said to Jesse:

“Don’t stop me unless it’s important.”

‘Do I look easy to mess with? Go bother someone who looks like a pushover.’

Just as Dexter was about to turn away, Jesse tried to put her hand on his shoulder.

“No, I mean… Ah!”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Dexter swiftly turned and grabbed Jesse’s wrist, twisting it forcefully.

‘Oh, damn.’

Dexter had applied excessive force, unable to control his strength in time.

The incident happened so quickly that even the inmates watching nearby were visibly startled.

“Ugh.”

Despite what must have been considerable pain, Jesse merely glared at Dexter with a slight groan, showing no major reaction.

“There won’t be a next time, so behave yourself.”

Dexter threw down Jesse’s hand and walked away without looking back.

‘I need to control my temper better.’

While Dexter was inwardly regretting his actions, Jesse clutched her reddened hand and stared at his retreating back.

“……”

“Look at Jesse’s eyes. This is going to cause trouble.”

“I told you she’s impossible to deal with.”

Hearing the insults directed at her, Jesse pointed her index finger at one of the inmates and shouted:

“Beth, shut your mouth! Just try talking behind my back again!”

As the singled-out inmate looked around nervously before fleeing, Jesse shouted in all directions:

“Don’t!!! Underestimate me!!! I’ll kill you!!!”

The inmates reacted differently—some gossiping about Jesse’s behavior, others focusing on their own business.

But they had one thing in common.

They all ignored Jesse’s reckless behavior.

Jesse just stood there, breathing heavily and staring at the spot where Dexter had been.

* * *

“Wow. What is this, exactly?”

Dexter’s eyes widened.

“What, never seen lunch before?”

Dan shrugged.

“Do you eat like this every day?”

“It’s our prison’s specialty.”

There was a reason Dexter was shocked when he entered the cafeteria for lunch.

On one side were tables, and on the opposite side was a buffet-style array of food with more variety than most buffet restaurants.

“You serve steak for lunch?”

“We work hard until 6 PM, don’t we? What, you don’t like it?”

“Are you kidding? Who wouldn’t like this?”

Despite his words, the first items Dexter put on his plate were egg dishes, salad, and potatoes.

“After saying that, I thought you’d pile on steak and buffalo wings, but what’s this?”

“Just starting light.”

Dexter grinned.

Dan’s plate selection was similar to Dexter’s, except for a single piece of steak.

“You’re not much different from me, are you?”

“I’ve eaten so much I’m on a diet. Oh, by the way, I heard rumors you had a run-in with Blueberg. Is that true?”

At Dan’s question, Dexter replied as if it was too bothersome to answer:

“How can an officer ‘have a run-in’ with an inmate? I just subdued her, that’s all.”

Dan shook his head at Dexter’s response.

“Officers who get involved with her tend to have bad luck.”

“What do you mean?”

“Officers who tangle with Blueberg end up quitting eventually.”

“What? Are you suggesting the inmate put some kind of curse on them?”

“Is that how it works?”

“Come on, what curse in the 21st century? I didn’t take you for that type, sir.”

Dexter waved dismissively, saying it was nonsense.

“That aside, she does seem a bit crazy. If she were in a zombie movie, she’d be the first target for elimination.”

“She is mentally ill, actually. Check out medication time in the morning sometime. She takes a handful of pills.”

Learning that she was actually unwell made things more complicated.

“Well, when you put it that way, it sounds like I bullied someone with mental issues.”

“You said you subdued her, right? That’s just doing your job as an officer. Why, did you slap her or something?”

“No, I just grabbed her wrist when she tried to touch my shoulder.”

“Then it’s no big deal. Man, this clam chowder is amazing today.”

Unlike Dan, who was leisurely enjoying his clam chowder, Dexter was lost in thought and barely touching his food.

‘There must be more to this.’

While he was curious about why Jesse behaved that way, Dexter’s priority was adjusting to his new workplace.

‘It’s a prison—nothing unusual about it.’

Dexter took a bite of his potato dish.

“…!”

The creamy, rich, and smooth taste was enough to captivate him.

“Good, right? Warden Branson may not know much else, but he sure knows how to hire a chef.”

Dexter stuffed food into his mouth and only came to his senses after emptying three plates piled high with food.

“Wow. How did all that fit in your stomach?”

“If you’re done, let’s get some coffee.”

Dexter shrugged as if it was nothing.

The two men walked toward Medium Security Block 2, sipping coffee from takeout paper cups they’d gotten from the break room.

“How’s the job so far?”

“Just, you know. Not good, not bad. Pretty average. Isn’t that how all jobs are?”

“True enough, jobs are all like that.”

Dan chuckled.

After that, they conducted a surprise possession check while the inmates were out for vocational training and prison labor.

“The cells are cleaner than I expected.”

Most rooms were tidy except for magazine cutouts plastered on the walls.

“Cell assignments change regularly. They have no choice but to minimize their belongings.”

As the two were inspecting the cells, something caught their attention.

“…What is this?”

One cell had walls covered with bizarre drawings made with markers.

“Which number is this?”

“Number 78.”

“Ah, that’s the inmate you know.”

“Who? Blueberg?”

“Correct.”

The contrast was stark—the opposite wall had only a few photos of muscular wrestlers.

“It’s gotten worse than before. Maybe we should send her to a secure psychiatric facility.”

“What happens if she’s sent there?”

“It’s just a mental hospital. They’d put her in a straitjacket and give her intensive treatment.”

Dan spoke about sending her to a psychiatric facility without hesitation, as if familiar with the situation, and Dexter simply nodded while examining the drawings on the wall.

“She does seem crazy… hmm?”

Among the chaotic drawings was one that looked normal and well-drawn.

“It’s a car.”

“A car?”

When Dexter pointed to a drawing of a black car, Dan looked at it with curiosity and said:

“Oh, it’s a ’74 Plymouth Barracuda. And it’s pretty well-drawn.”

“You recognized it immediately?”

“Most muscle car enthusiasts would. Looks like she added her own design on the side.”

The distinctive white skeletal geometric pattern drawn from the front fender to the rear fender was unique.

Dan began looking at the other drawings again.

“This one’s a ’72 Chevy Chevelle, and this one… a Jensen Interceptor? Looks like a ’75 model.”

Among all the chaotic and bizarre drawings, the most normal ones were all cars.

After carefully examining the drawings, Dan seemed to remember something and said to Dexter:

“Oh, right. Blueberg was originally a street racer.”

“Oh, really?”

In truth, Dexter had never seen street racing.

He only knew the name and vaguely understood it as racing on public roads.

“She was quite famous in Iowa, I heard. Though it’s hard to believe a criminal like Blueberg is from Iowa.”

“Is that so?”

‘I should look into this later.’

While Dan and Dexter were absorbed in examining Jesse’s drawings, someone abruptly entered.

Startled by the sudden appearance, Dexter was about to extend his baton when—

“…!”

“Oh, who… Ah, Raymond.”

“What are you two doing?”

Both men were startled by the sudden appearance of the muscular, large-framed Raymond.

“We’re conducting a possession check, sir.”

“For a possession check, you’ve been here quite a while.”

“Ah, look at the wall, sir.”

When Dan pointed to the wall covered with Jesse’s drawings, Raymond’s brow furrowed.

“What kind of state is this for a cell? You call this inmate management?”

“She’s a mentally ill inmate who requires special attention. If we interfere carelessly, it could cause problems with inmate management…”

Dan tried to explain earnestly, but Raymond waved his hand dismissively.

“Remove all of it immediately.”

“But—”

“Didn’t you hear me? I said remove it.”

“…Yes, sir.”

In contrast to Dan, who couldn’t say a word, Raymond snorted and left the cell.

“Wow, he’s strict, huh?”

“He’s always like that. Might be worse because of the Chief Correctional Officer position.”

Dan spoke as if it couldn’t be helped.

“What about the Chief position?”

“The current Chief is Byron. You’ll probably see him before you clock out—he’s extremely fat, doesn’t try to do anything, just occupies the position.”

“Really? Why would someone like that—”

“Byron became Chief back in the Civic Center days. He probably has the earliest hire date in our prison.”

“They promoted him to Chief just because he worked here the longest?”

“From what I hear, Byron didn’t even want the job and was forced into it, but I’m not sure about that.”

Dan took a sip of coffee, as if his throat was dry, and continued:

“But when P&J Secure took over operations, the warden announced that all current positions would be maintained for a year to avoid confusion during the initial operational phase.”

“Ah, so—”

“Right. So Byron continues as Chief, while someone who should have been promoted to Chief years ago remains stuck.”

That would be frustrating.

Having someone incompetent in a position above you.

“Even if he’s a bit hysterical, you have to understand, right? And he’s known for strictly following the manual, so there’s nothing to criticize.”

“True, you can’t argue with someone who goes by the book.”

“But it’s low-ranking officers like us who suffer.”

Dan sighed deeply.

“Let’s finish the inspection quickly and get some rest. Afternoon movement restriction starts at 4.”

It was almost time for inmates to return from vocational training and labor.

“Just hang in there a little longer and we’re done for the day. Just a bit more.”

“Who are you talking to?”

“Me, myself. Just giving myself some encouragement.”

Dexter smiled at Dan’s tired expression.

“Not many hours left, so let’s work hard.”