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Behind Closed Doors

The Altar of an Open Sky

The rest of the morning passed in a quiet, rhythmic blur. After finally making it to the cafeteria, Yuno sat with Haruka and Muu for breakfast. The conversation was brief, mostly consisting of Haruka worrying over Muu’s lack of appetite and Muu trying to convince him, with a tired but fond smile, that she was perfectly fine.

Yuno picked at her eggs, her chin resting in her palm. The sterile, fluorescent lighting of the cafeteria suddenly felt more oppressive than usual. Every clink of a plastic tray and every low murmur from the other prisoners felt like a needle pricking at her skin. Her attention drifted, her gaze tracing the heavy iron doors that led back to the central hub.

"You're looking toward the door again," Muu observed, her voice sharp enough to cut through Yuno’s daydreaming.

Yuno laughed, the sound a little too airy. "Am I that obvious?"

"A little," Muu replied, taking a slow sip of her water.

Haruka lowered his gaze to his tray, pushing a piece of toast around with his fork. He looked up tentatively, his eyes soft. "...Warden-san?"

Yuno's grin widened, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Warden-san."

Muu rolled her eyes, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. It was a rare sight—Yuno being genuine enough to be predictable. "Go on, then. Before you explode from the anticipation. We can handle Haruka’s worrying without you."

"Hehe, thanks! You’re a lifesaver, Muu-chan!"

Not needing any further encouragement, Yuno waved a breezy goodbye and slipped away from the cafeteria.

The halls of Milgram were unusually quiet. Most of the prisoners were still occupied with their morning meal or their scheduled chores, leaving only the distant, industrial hum of the facility’s machinery to accompany her footsteps. At first, Yuno headed toward the monitor room out of habit, her hand already reaching for the spare key in her pocket.

But as she passed the intersection near the stairwell, she stopped. A draft—a real, cool, moving draft—brushed against her ankles.

She turned. The heavy door leading to the prison roof, usually locked behind three layers of security protocols, was standing slightly ajar. A sliver of natural, grayish light spilled onto the linoleum floor.

Curiosity won almost immediately. Quietly, Yuno changed direction and climbed the narrow, winding staircase beyond the door.

As she reached the top, the cool breeze greeted her fully, messing up her hair and carrying the scent of rain and distant city smog. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the ceiling of Milgram was gone. There was no reinforced glass, no steel plating, no cameras—just a vast, overcast sky that felt impossibly large.

And sitting on the edge of the rooftop railing, as casually as if he were sitting on a park bench in a world where he wasn't a jailer, was Es.

His shoes had been left on the concrete beside him, looking small and abandoned. His bare feet dangled over the sheer drop of the building's edge, kicking rhythmically against the air. The oversized warden’s hat was nowhere to be seen, leaving his brown hair to be tossed about by the wind. In his hands, he held that same small, leather-bound diary.

Yuno's heart nearly stopped, a cold spike of adrenaline shooting through her.

"Es-kun?!"

Es glanced over his shoulder. To her surprise, he didn't seem startled at all. He didn't jump or scramble for his shoes. He just looked at her with a calm, almost vacant expression that slowly melted into something warmer.

"Good morning, Yuno."

"Good morning?!" she repeated, her voice rising in a panicked pitch. She took a few steps closer, her hands hovering in the air as if she could catch him from ten feet away. "You're sitting on the edge of a building! A very tall, very concrete building!"

Es looked down briefly at the dizzying drop below before returning his attention to her. "...Yes."

"That's not a normal response! Es, get down from there before Jackalope has a heart attack, or worse, before I do!"

For a moment, neither of them moved. The wind whistled between the vents of the roof, tugging at Yuno’s skirt.

Then, Es closed his diary with a soft *thud*. He shifted his weight, making more room on the narrow ledge. "Come here."

Yuno blinked, her mouth hanging open slightly. "...What?"

"Come sit with me."

Yuno stared at him, her eyes wide. "Es-kun, I think you've finally lost your mind. The pressure of being the judge has finally turned your brain into mush."

"You won't fall," Es said. His voice was steady, devoid of the usual clinical detachment. It was the voice of the boy who had held her in the dark.

Slowly, Es extended one hand toward her, palm up. "You'll be safe as long as we're holding hands. I won't let go."

Yuno felt her face grow warm, the heat spreading to the tips of her ears. The invitation was ridiculous. It was dangerous, unprofessional, and completely unreasonable. It was everything that Milgram wasn't.

And that was exactly why she found herself reaching down to kick off her own shoes.

"...You're lucky I trust you!" she grumbled, stepping onto the cold concrete in her socks.

"I know," Es replied softly.

With exaggerated caution, Yuno climbed up beside him. Her knees shook as she transitioned from the solid roof to the narrow metal railing, but the moment her fingers slid into Es’s, the world stopped tilting. He gripped her hand with a surprising strength, his skin cool but his hold absolute.

She sat down, her legs dangling into the abyss next to his. The world seemed impossibly distant from up there. The courtyard of the prison looked like a dollhouse, and the surrounding fences looked like toothpicks. It felt as though Milgram ended at their feet—which, as they settled in, gently began brushing against each other. The movement was intentional, a soft, rhythmic contact of skin against skin that felt more intimate than a kiss.

As promised, Es kept hold of her hand. Neither of them let go.

After a while, the silence became a comfortable weight. Es opened his diary again, the pages fluttering in the breeze.

Yuno glanced at it suspiciously, leaning her head toward his shoulder. "The mysterious log returns. Are you writing down my heart rate again? Because I can tell you right now, it’s 'terrified.'"

"It isn't a log right now," Es said, his eyes fixed on the paper.

"Oh? Then what is it? A secret plan to escape? A map to the nearest strawberry cake shop?"

Es looked down at the page, his grip on her hand tightening just a fraction. "...I wrote something."

Yuno immediately leaned closer, her blonde hair whipping across her face. "A confession?"

"No."

"A love letter? Oh, Es-kun, I didn't know you were the poetic type!"

"No."

"A list of my crimes? To remind yourself why you shouldn't be sitting on a roof with me?"

"No."

Yuno smiled, her heart doing a strange little flip in her chest. "Then what is it?"

Es stared at the page for another second, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. "...A poem. About how I love you, without the walls of Milgram in the way. Once we go back downstairs, this beautiful atmosphere will be gone. The cameras will be back. The roles will be back. But we won't change. It was overdue, but I hope my affection reaches you by the end of this."

Es turned his head slightly. Without the heavy warden’s hat in the way, he looked so much younger. The wind tousled his brown hair, and the gray light of the sky reflected in his eyes, making them look like polished stones. He looked beautiful—not like a judge, but like a boy. And his smile, small and hesitant as it was, was everything to Yuno in that moment.

"You’re serious," Yuno whispered, her teasing tone dying away.

"I am always serious," Es replied.

He cleared his throat, the sound nearly lost to the wind. He began to read, his voice low and rhythmic, carrying a weight that the sterile interrogation rooms could never hold.

"In the place where the sun is a lamp and the sky is a floor, I found a warmth that wasn't written in the records. You are the 'bothersome' variable that broke the machine. I look at you and I forget the names of the sins I am supposed to memorize. I look at you and I see a horizon that doesn't end in a cell door."

Yuno listened, her breath hitching. The words were raw, unpolished, and devastatingly honest.

"If the world is a transaction, then I am a bankrupt judge," Es continued, his gaze drifting back to the gray clouds. "Because I would give every key I own just to keep this hand in mine. Not as a Warden. Not as a Prisoner. Just as two heartbeats in a cold room. I love you, Yuno. Not because I forgive you, but because I finally see you."

He finished reading and went still. The wind seemed to hold its breath.

Yuno felt a tear prick at the corner of her eye, hot and sudden. She didn't wipe it away. She just leaned her head fully onto his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest.

"That was... terrible," she choked out, a watery laugh escaping her. "Zero points for meter. Total failure in rhyme scheme."

"I told you I wasn't a poet," Es mumbled, his face flushing a brilliant red. He started to close the book. "I’ll delete it later."

"Don't you dare!" Yuno barked, reaching over to pin the book open. She turned her face toward him, her nose brushing his cheek. "It’s the best thing I’ve ever heard. Better than any gift. Better than any 2,500 yen."

She looked at him, her violet eyes searching his. "You really mean it? Even when the music starts? Even when you have to see the things I did?"

"The things you did are part of the girl I love," Es said, his voice firming up. "I cannot judge one without accepting the other. That is the only way to be a true judge. And the only way to be a human."

Yuno felt the last of her defenses crumble. She had spent her life making sure no one ever saw the "ugly" parts, the "bothersome" parts. She had sold a dream to keep the reality hidden. But here, on the edge of the world, Es was looking at the reality and calling it love.

"I love you too, Es," she whispered. "More than I love being special. More than I love being warm."

She leaned in, and this time, the kiss was different. It wasn't a secret shared in a dim room; it was an altar built under the open sky. It was desperate and sweet, a promise made on a precipice.

They sat there for a long time after that, their feet brushing together, their hands locked in a grip that defied the drop below. The gray clouds eventually began to leak a fine, misty rain, but neither of them moved.

"We have to go back down eventually," Yuno murmured against his neck. "Jackalope is going to start a search party."

"I know," Es said. He looked at the diary in his lap, then at the girl beside him. "But for now, the sky is still open."

He tucked the diary into his waistband and stood up, pulling Yuno with him. For a heart-stopping second, they stood balanced on the thin metal rail, the wind whipping around them, two ghosts standing on the edge of forever.

Then, Es stepped back onto the solid concrete of the roof, bringing her down with him into the safety of the enclosure.

He picked up his shoes and hers, handing them to her with a small, graceful bow.

"The interrogation will resume in thirty minutes, Prisoner Number Two," he said, his voice regaining a hint of its professional edge, though his eyes were still bright with the reflection of the clouds.

Yuno laughed, slipping her shoes on and adjusting her hair. "Yes, Warden-kun. I’ll try to be on my best behavior."

"I highly doubt that."

They walked back toward the staircase, the heavy steel door waiting to take them back into the heart of Milgram. But as Es reached for the handle, he paused. He looked at Yuno, his expression unreadable.

"The poem," he said. "It stays between us."

"Oh? You don't want the others to know you're a romantic?"

"I don't want them to know I'm a person," Es corrected, a small, knowing smile touching his lips. "It makes the sentencing much more dramatic."

Yuno giggled, leaning in to steal one last, quick kiss before the door opened. "Your secret is safe with me, Es. As long as you keep writing."

"I'll think about it."

They stepped back into the stairwell, the door clicking shut behind them, sealing away the wind and the sky. The gray halls of Milgram were waiting, with their cameras and their secrets and their inevitable judgments.

But as Yuno walked back toward the cell blocks, she didn't feel like a prisoner. She felt like someone who had just touched the sun.

And in his office, as Es put on his heavy jacket and settled the oversized hat back onto his head, he didn't feel like a judge. He felt like a boy who had finally found his name.

The second trial was coming. The music would play. But the walls of Milgram were no longer high enough to keep the warmth out.

For the first time in the history of the prison, the Warden and the Prisoner were both looking forward to the truth.