Soren suddenly remembered what winter used to look like in his town.

If getting food was difficult any time of the year, then winter was on a whole other level.

Rat meat jerky was the norm. Those that did not have good homes ended up having it the worst.

Dung was used to patch holes. Better to bath in the smell of feaces than to freeze to death.

Soren remembered last winter; he had to beg Machos to take in Tommy and his mother.

If not, they would have died back then.

He still remembered the look on Machos's face when they had to share their rations.

He and Tommy had to work extra hard to make up for it. It was not an easy time, but those endless nights of games, fun, and sharing their dreams.

—It was good.

"Has the cold gotten to you too?" A shoulder attempted pushing against him, but he side-stepped—narrowly dodging.

—courtesy of Blackfield.

Vinegar staggered a bit but managed to get her footing.

Seeing as she was the one, Soren kind of felt bad he didn't let her jab him.

Any opportunity to get close to Vinegar was one he treasured.

"At least you still move well." Vinegar added, "Unlike Slacker. Something about it being more difficult to keep his family alive back home because of the storm. He is always extra moody and grumpy this time of the year. Always like this."

She made an imitation of Slacker's brooding face and walking step.

Soren could not help but chuckle.

And then she also chuckled.

But he stopped first. He wanted to... hear more of her.

She noticed his gaze. It made her a bit self-conscious, her purple skin becoming a shade of red at the cheeks.

And then there was a bit of awkward silence between them.

Both of them avoided eye contact.

"Just kiss her already, Whitey!" A scream came from behind, shocking both of them.

Soren turned. It was Sausage Neck. By his side was Tiger Face.

Neither of them was in their prisoner jumpsuit.

Sausage Neck wore what was essentially a beach shirt, left unbuttoned, with a pair of jean shorts.

And Tigerface wore long pants and a jacket—exactly what Soren had seen him with when they first met at the back of that carriage.

"So you two are leaving now?" Soren asked.

Sausage Neck nodded, "Two years ahead of the time planned, but the wife and kids will be happy." Sausage Neck grinned.

"Ahead of time?" Soren asked.

"Yes." Tiger Face chimed in. "You didn't think a lot of us in here are actually criminals now, did you?"

"Uh..." Soren scratched the back of his head.

Then again, this was a prison. What was he supposed to think?

"It's a hard world out there, even for Soulbound warriors. You are either strong enough to work in some noble's farms, or you are strong enough to hunt Eldritch souls for money."

Tiger Face shook his head, "Too bad for Mateo though." He grunted.

A brief silence.

Soren had not known his name, but the moment he was mentioned, he knew who Tiger Face was talking about.

Everyone here, except Tiger Face, had a hand in his death.

It was the smaller man Soren met while on his way to this prison.

Sausage Face grunted. "Don't worry about it. He knew the risk. Only about twenty percent of prisoners actually make it back alive.

We used the hundred thousand points from the crowned jewel to buy our freedom. But I still have about fifteen thousand points from my time here. I converted all that to gold coins." He grinned, "We are going back home really rich men. Enough for our families and a little something for Mateo's sister too."

He embraced Tiger Face, and both men chuckled happily.

Soren could genuinely see the joy in their eyes.

In the time he had stayed here, he had indeed heard of the death rate in this place. In fact, he had seen it.

Whether it was with Vinegar's old friends or the prisoners that died in the glass.

This place was really a different kind of hell.

In fact, if he did not have the abilities he did, he would have long been sent to the afterlife.

And the fact that death came not just from the Glass made things far worse.

At the same time, thinking of the kind of suffering people experienced outside, he could understand why they would risk this place.

If not for themselves, at least for their families.

"Soren." Sausage Neck called, placing a hand on Soren's shoulder.

"Huh!" Soren replied. It was the first time Sausage Neck had ever called him by his name.

"I'd like to apologize for my behavior earlier." Sausage Neck looked away a bit—obviously ashamed.

"Eh... you see, all my life, I have not had the best experience with nobles... and even the commoners that eventually become whities leave the rest of us in the mud—forgetting the place they come from. But you... you..."

He suddenly went on his knees and gave a bow. "Thank you, Soren." Tears fell freely from his eyes. "Thank you for picking me regardless of the trouble I caused you. Because of you, a whitey... my family will eat well this winter."

Tiger Face followed and also bowed, thanking him.

Soren was speechless. Bowing in the Almace empire was usually reserved for the subjects of a noble or to the god of the neuralink.

This was the highest display of sincerity one could show. And right now, it was ushered with grateful tears.

Sorwn did not know what to say or do. He just stood there.

Vinegar gave him a jab.

She didn't miss this time around.

"Say something," she encouraged.

Soren leaned, helping Sausage Neck and Tiger face up. He smiled—genuinely smiled. "It's a pleasure."

After a few more talks, Sausage Neck pulled Soren to a corner, whispering something in his ear he obviously did not want Vinegar hearing.

Then he threw out constant invitations for Soren and Vinegar to visit his home.

After which Sausage Neck and Tiger Face waved goodbye.

Soren waved back.

Vinegar leaned into him.

"So, have you thought of what you want to do when you get out, or where you want to go?"

Soren shook his head. "Not yet."

"Oh," she turned away.

Then the suggestion came.

"Why don't you come with us?"

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