Don't confiscate my citizenship

On the first floor of Hellrom Prison, several trainee prison guards were walking slowly down a dim corridor that led to the warden's office.

After passing through the teleportation hall, there is a suspension bridge, and you can see the cells and prison guards on duty below.

From time to time, other prison guards wearing similar uniforms will pass by in the opposite direction. The faces of these prison guards appear more serious. Their steps are fast and their eyes are focused and tired. When they pass by the trainee prison guards, they may nod in greeting. But he soon returned to his own busy work.

There were many prison guards with bitter expressions on their faces, their faces full of worry and stress, and they seemed to be busy solving some thorny problem.

After walking through several hanging bridges, Huberian brought the poet to the indoor space again. On both sides were tall bookshelves made of dark oak, filled with various heavy legal books and history. literature.

The prison guards who were handling clerical work in the office looked quite relaxed, as if they had no burden at all, and had a smile on their faces. The seriousness and heaviness of the entire prison had nothing to do with them. Some of them were also humming a little tune, holding books in their hands, and from time to time Flip through a few pages and feel completely immersed in your own world, which is far more comfortable than being a prison guard on the basic level.

What's more, when chatting next to the office wall, the sound is absorbed by the corridor wall, leaving a subtle echo.

...

Without paying too much attention to the prison guards on the first floor, Hyperion walked quickly past with a few others.

Judging from the work of prison guards along the way, Hyperion discovered the diversity and complexity of the work and status of different prison guards on the first floor.

Some jobs can be done with just hands, and some jobs need to be completed with a mentality of disregarding death.

The delegation and distribution of work are exactly the tasks that the warden is responsible for.

As a group of them approached the warden's office, they could feel that the figures of the prison guards were becoming increasingly sparse.

It seems that the other prison guards on the first floor have taken over today's work arrangements this morning.

The arrival time of these trainee prison guards was slightly later than the working hours of ordinary prison guards.

In front of me, the double doors of the warden's office were open, with a brass plate embedded on one side, which was engraved with the name of the room and the working hours of the warden on the first floor.

Hyperion came to the door of the warden's office. She paused briefly to confirm that there were no restrictions, and then led the poet of love into the thick brown wooden door that was not closed.

The interior of the spacious warden's office is as elegantly decorated as the lobby. In the center of the lobby, there is an old world globe, with the outlines of the continents on it already blurred.

Next to it are rows of wooden bookshelves, with some folders stacked on the table. The covers of these files are brand new, and the dark gold decorative patterns on the covers shine faintly in the dim light. Between the bookshelves, there is a long corridor. It is paved with polished stone slabs, with complex geometric patterns faintly visible.

As Hyperion held the forearm of the Great Love Poet and went deep into the lobby, they could hear their footsteps echoing in the silence, accompanied by the occasional rustling sound from the turning of book pages, and magical instruments. The sounds of operation are intertwined.

Bypassing the World Ceremony, at the innermost side of the lobby, the office counters were connected into a large long table, with a neat row of folders and pen holders placed there.

The warden sat behind the desk. He was a middle-aged man who looked to be in his fifties, with a lean build and a serious face.

He was looking at the document intently, comparing it to the central control magic device on the negative floor, and stamped it. He was wearing a straight warden uniform, and the nameplate on his chest had his name printed on it, Warden Department London.

When several trainee prison guards walked into the office, the warden did not pay attention to them immediately. He slowly raised his eyelids and looked through the lenses at the new young trainee guards.

Then he went back to his work.

Mr. Kolendan, we are students from the Royal Academy of Magic in Protos. We came to Herrom Prison today to complete our prison guard internship assessment. Please kindly assign work tasks to us.

Hyperion stood in the warden's office, bowed slightly and saluted the warden and said.

But the warden showed no reaction.

It was as if he didn't hear them, and he didn't notice their presence at all, and continued to concentrate on the work at hand.

Time passed by minute by minute, Hubery stood there slightly confused, every second seemed like a long wait.

She wasn't sure whether she should speak up again.

Finally, after Corundam Warden finished processing a few more documents, he put down the paper in his hand and looked at Hyperion, who was standing not far away, waiting like a student standing in a penalty stand.

Why didn't you knock on the door when you came in just now?

The Corondan Warden slowly raised his head, his voice was low and powerful, and his eyes revealed a hint of happiness and anger that was difficult for anyone to guess.

Hyperion was stunned.

Due to the working mode on the first floor, the office where the warden issued tasks was more of a public area, with guards often coming in and out, so she thought it was for efficiency reasons that she left it open and didn't think about knocking on the door.

Sorry, Mr. Warden, we didn't think it through.

Hyperion was immediately humble and apologetic in her voice.

Warden Corendan leaned back in his chair, picked up the water glass on the table, took a sip, and looked at Hyperion casually.

Here, rules are the most important. You don't even know the most basic door-knocking etiquette. How can you abide by the institutional rules?

His words were like an elder teaching a junior, not only pointing out their mistakes, but also carrying a majesty that was irrefutable.

Hyperion didn't refute, just nodded.

She has firm and calm eyes.

In this case, appropriate humility and respect are the wisest choices.

Mr. Colendam Warden, thank you for your reminder. We will remember this lesson and will strictly abide by the rules in the future.

There was no complaint or dissatisfaction in her words, with sincere apology and commitment to her work.

...

When the warden heard this, his expression was not much moved.

He reached for a folder from a distance, opened it and took out several documents that had been stamped with the imperial official seal, scanned them one by one with the central magic device in front of him, and then said to himself: Go and finish it. They.

Following the warden's operation, the black bracelets of several trainee prison guards headed by Hyperion began to glow with deep red fluorescence, indicating their newly assigned tasks.

They lowered their heads slightly to check the information on the bracelet. Above the bracelet, a detailed task description and specific requirements for execution appeared.

Five updates today, the last chapter may be a little late, I’m still revising it