Plateau Prison No. 1 Factory Area.
The sound of sewing machines clattered rhythmically while guards patrolled back and forth, clubbing anyone caught slacking.
But where there are policies from above, there are countermeasures from below.
"Officer! My sewing machine is broken!"
Suddenly someone raised their hand and shouted loudly, drawing many glances, revealing a slick prisoner with a shaved head standing up.
"How is it you again! The third time this month!" The guard scolded as he walked over.
The prisoner spread his hands innocently, "Maybe I was just working too hard."
Seeing his shamelessness, many of the new inmates' expressions flickered, but some of the older ones exchanged glances.
"This Carnes is hooked on breaking sewing machines," commented an old inmate, wetting the thread with his mouth, his hands still holding a darning needle, clearly showing years of practice.
