The Fugitive's Touch

CHAPTER 4 : RETURN

CHAPTER 4 : RETURN

The infirmary cell remained silent. Only Rey’s breathing could be heard, blending with the whisper of the wind seeping through the small cracks in the walls.

The old man stood beside the bed, his gaze sharp yet gentle. That night, his voice carried more weight than usual.

"It's time for you to leave this place," the old man said, crossing his arms. "Return to the general cell and face the world out there. If you want revenge, you can't keep hiding here."

Rey remained quiet, staring at the ceiling. Over the past month, his life had changed drastically. From a desperate and broken young man, he now felt like someone entirely different.

"You’re strong enough," the old man continued. "But remember, this strength isn’t just for survival. You must find a way out of here. The world outside is waiting for you."

Rey gave a slow nod. "How?"

The old man gave a faint smile. "That’s something you’ll have to figure out on your own."

Rey exhaled deeply, then looked at his right hand. His fingers now possessed an inexplicable power—something mysterious, yet undeniably lethal.

"Thank you," Rey whispered.

The old man patted his shoulder. "Use your strength wisely."

Then, without warning, the old man vanished. No sound, no shadow. He disappeared like smoke blown away by the wind.

Rey waited all night, hoping the old man would return. But as night turned to morning, the figure never reappeared.

The first day passed.

The second day followed.

By the third day, Rey finally accepted the truth.

The old man was truly gone.

—

Returning to the general cell after more than a month in the infirmary was a challenge in itself. As Rey stepped in, the atmosphere shifted instantly.

The inmates who once took pleasure in tormenting him now eyed him with suspicion. Some smirked, while others whispered among themselves.

Rey walked calmly, settling in a corner of the room.

But not everyone was willing to accept his return so easily.

A large man with a shaved head and tattoos on his arms approached, followed by his lackeys. He was one of the senior inmates who had previously tormented Rey.

"Heh, kid," he sneered. "Had enough rest? Now it’s time to get back to our usual routine."

The man raised his hand, intending to grab Rey’s shoulder like before.

But before he could touch him, something unexpected happened.

With lightning-fast reflexes, Rey seized the man’s wrist and twisted it backward.

**BANG!**

The man collapsed with a painful grunt. The sickening crack of his joints echoed in the cell.

Silence fell over the room.

The inmates who had once looked down on Rey were now visibly shaken. They had never seen him move that fast before.

Rey released his grip and stood tall. His expression remained calm, as if nothing had happened.

The heavily tattooed man, who was the leader of the cell, stepped forward, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"I need to test something," he said, clenching his fists.

Without warning, he launched a punch toward Rey.

But Rey didn’t dodge. He simply lifted his hand and touched the man’s wrist.

In an instant, something strange occurred.

The tattooed man's eyes widened. The strength in his arm drained away. His fingers trembled before going completely limp.

"What… what did you do?" he gasped.

Rey didn’t respond. Instead, he moved his fingers toward the man's leg.

The moment his fingertips brushed against the man’s calf, the effect was immediate.

The tattooed man lost his balance and collapsed to his knees. His muscles failed to respond. It was as if his own body no longer belonged to him.

The other inmates watched in horror.

A man had just been defeated with a single touch.

The tension in the cell thickened.

After a long moment of silence, one of the inmates stepped forward, his voice trembling.

"We… we didn’t know you had that kind of power."

Then, one by one, the other inmates began bowing their heads.

"We’re sorry…"

"We were just following orders…"

"We had no idea you were this strong…"

Rey remained silent, his expression unreadable.

Then, something even more unexpected happened.

An older inmate stepped forward and knelt before Rey.

"You’re stronger than anyone here," he said quietly. "From now on, you’re our leader."

All eyes turned to Rey, waiting for his reaction.

Rey said nothing.

But deep down, he knew—this was his first step toward freedom.

—

After witnessing Rey’s astonishing power, the atmosphere inside the cell changed drastically.

If before, the inmates had seen him as nothing more than an easy target, now they regarded him with a mixture of respect and fear.

The tattooed man who once ruled the cell still sat on the floor, his face drenched in cold sweat. His muscles were still paralyzed, leaving him unable to move his arms.

"Y-You… You’re incredible, Rey," he stammered. "I acknowledge your strength… You’re the leader now."

His words were quickly echoed by exaggerated reactions from the others.

"I agree! From now on, we all follow your orders!" a lanky inmate with long hair declared enthusiastically.

"Of course! Rey is the strongest in this cell!" chimed in another man with a long scar across his cheek.

Several inmates even rushed toward Rey, eager to show their newfound loyalty.

"Rey, do you want a massage? After a month in the infirmary, your body must be stiff," a chubby inmate offered, cracking his knuckles in preparation.

"Yes, yes! I can massage your shoulders! You must be tired after making them all kneel!" added a bald, older man.

Without waiting for Rey’s approval, a few inmates began competing to serve him.

Two started massaging his shoulders, another kneaded his arms, while others brought over a ragged blanket to make his corner of the cell more comfortable.

"Are you hungry, Rey? I can get you the best food in here," a short, shifty-looking man suggested.

"I have bread! It’s a bit stale, but you can have it!" a toothless inmate offered, holding out a piece of hard bread.

Rey remained silent, allowing them to fawn over him. His expression remained cold, but deep inside, he smirked slightly.

The same men who had once tormented him were now groveling at his feet.

"You truly deserve to be the leader here, Rey!" one inmate exclaimed.

"Yes! You’re our boss now! We’re ready to follow you!"

Rey didn’t respond. He simply studied each of them with sharp eyes.

They were only flattering him because they were afraid. But to Rey, they were nothing more than pawns to be used.

For now, he didn’t need them.

But one day, they might prove useful.

With his right hand, Rey loosened his shoulder slightly from the relentless massaging.

"Enough," he said in a flat tone.

The inmates immediately stopped, stepping back obediently.

"Yes, boss!"

"We understand!"

Rey stared at them for a moment before leaning back against the cell wall.

One thing was certain—he was no longer a victim in this place.

He was the predator.

###