Room 15.
The loose player "Neck-Twister" sat on the floor idly, with a poetry collection spread out on a small table in front of him.
"So boring~ so boring~~ sitting in jail in this game is even more boring than sitting in jail in freaking reality~"
"What's the point of this lousy poetry collection? Get lost!"
Neck-Twister lifted a leg, kicking the small table where the poetry collection lay.
With a loud bang, the table and the poetry collection didn't move an inch, but it was Neck-Twister himself who shuddered with pain.
"Hiss—Momma, why is this table so damn hard? Are you indestructible or something, bro?!"
"Ow ow ow... It hurts so bad..."
Neck-Twister was rubbing his right foot when he noticed a shadow flicker across the small window in the cell door.
"What are you doing?" Neck-Twister looked up at the elf guard outside the door and said with a twisted neck:
"Kicking the table doesn't violate the Academy Manual, does it?"
