John couldn't eat dinner properly.
The food was good. Same quality as the night before. Roasted meat, bread, some kind of root vegetables cooked with herbs. His body wanted it, needed it after years of intermittent starvation both in Japan and here.
But his mind kept replaying the morning. The screaming. The blood. The casual efficiency of execution.
He forced down what he could and returned to his cell. Sat on the narrow bed and stared at the wall, trying to compartmentalize. Trying to convince himself that what he'd witnessed was just different cultural norms, just worldbuilding, just part of understanding this reality.
It didn't work.
The knock came at the expected time. The servant who'd become familiar over the past two days.
"Lord Saunder requests your presence in the study."
The routine was almost comforting. Walk the corridors, enter the book lined room, sit in the chair across from Saunder's desk. Except tonight there was something different. New equipment on the desk. A leather bound journal. Several metal instruments John couldn't identify. A scale with weights.
Saunder looked up from his notes, smiled.
"Good evening. I trust dinner was adequate?"
"Yes, my lord. Thank you."
"Excellent. We're going to try something different tonight." Saunder opened the leather journal to a blank page. "I've been documenting your delusional framework, but documentation alone is insufficient. True understanding requires experimentation."
Something cold settled in John's stomach.
"My lord?"
"You claim to come from another world. You've built an elaborate cognitive structure around this belief, complete with narrative expectations and power fantasy projections. I want to test the resilience of that structure. See where it breaks."
Saunder's tone was still pleasant, still academically interested. But the instruments on the desk suggested this wouldn't be another casual conversation about anime tropes.
"I don't understand."
"I'm establishing a research protocol. Resilience studies. You're the test subject." Saunder dipped his quill. "We'll start with cognitive dissonance trials. Simple premise. I want you to argue, in detail, why your life in this 'Earth' was superior to your life here."
John blinked. "My lord, I... that's obvious. I wasn't being beaten or starved or—"
"No. Properly. Systematically. Make the case as if you're defending a thesis. Provide specific examples, comparative analysis, logical arguments for Earth's superiority."
This felt wrong. Everything about this felt wrong.
But Saunder was watching with that analytical gaze, quill poised, waiting.
John swallowed. "In Japan, I had freedom of movement. I could go where I wanted without permission. I had access to entertainment, to media, to stories that I enjoyed. I wasn't property. I could make my own choices about how to spend my time."
"Continue."
"I had running water. Electricity. Modern medicine. If I got sick, I could see a doctor. If I was hungry, I could buy food. The baseline quality of life was just fundamentally higher."
Saunder wrote quickly, filling the page.
"Good. More. What about social structure?"
"I wasn't at the bottom of a rigid hierarchy. I could theoretically improve my station through education or work. Social mobility existed. And people weren't executed for minor mistakes."
"Interesting. Keep going."
For twenty minutes, John built his case. Listed every advantage of modern Earth life over medieval fantasy servitude. Saunder's quill never stopped moving, documenting every point.
Finally, John ran out of things to say.
Saunder set down his quill and reviewed his notes.
"Excellent. Now I'm going to disprove every single point you just made using evidence from your own experiences. Ready?"
John's mouth went dry.
"You claim you had freedom of movement in Japan. But from your earlier descriptions, you spent eighteen hours a day in a small apartment room, voluntarily isolated, too anxious to engage with the world outside. That's not freedom. That's self imposed imprisonment."
"I... that was my choice—"
"Was it? Or was it the only option your psychology permitted? Freedom unused is functionally identical to freedom denied." Saunder consulted his notes. "You mentioned access to entertainment. Stories you enjoyed. But those stories, by your own admission, replaced actual human connection. You consumed fiction about friendship while having no friends. Read romance while being romantically isolated. That's not enrichment. That's substitution for actual life."
Each word landed like a hammer.
"You claim you could see a doctor if sick. Could you afford it consistently? Did you actually go when needed, or did you avoid medical care due to anxiety and cost concerns? And food. Yes, you could buy food. Which you ate alone, in your room, watching anime. Subsistence eating. No different from a dog with a bowl."
"That's not—"
"Social mobility through education or work. Did you pursue either? Or did you drop out of university, quit your part time job, and retreat into delusion? The theoretical possibility of improvement means nothing without action."
Saunder leaned forward.
"And modern medicine, running water, electricity. All luxuries you took for granted while being profoundly miserable. Whereas here, you claim to suffer, yet I've watched you experience genuine gratitude for simple bread. You were more alive eating kennel scraps than you ever were eating convenience store ramen."
John's hands shook. "I was beaten. Chained. Pissed on."
"Yes. And it broke through your delusion temporarily. Forced you to engage with reality in a way you never did in Japan. Your suffering here has been acute but finite. Your suffering there was chronic and eternal. Which is worse?"
"Stop."
"As for execution for minor mistakes." Saunder's voice stayed level. "You watched a man die this morning and it horrified you. But you also watched yourself die slowly in Japan and called it living. Which death is more merciful?"
"Please stop."
Saunder sat back, satisfied. "You've failed the trial. Your framework for Earth's superiority collapses under basic scrutiny. The world you're desperate to believe you came from was objectively worse than the world you're in now."
Tears ran down John's face. He couldn't stop them.
"Therefore," Saunder continued, consulting the leather journal, "protocol dictates consequence for failure. No food tomorrow. And you'll be moved to the lower cell. Less comfortable. Gives you time to reconsider your delusions."
He made a note in the journal.
"We'll resume trials the day after. I want to see how long the framework persists under sustained pressure. You're dismissed."
John stood on shaking legs.
"Oh, and John?"
He turned.
"This is science. Not cruelty. The distinction matters."
John stumbled back to his cell, knowing it would be taken from him in the morning.