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While she was having a late dinner, Heiner entered the dining room. His hair was still slightly damp, as if he'd just washed up after work.
Heiner, who had spotted Annette, raised his eyebrows slightly. He spoke with a look of surprise.
“At this hour? What a surprise.”
Annette answered with a slight nod of her head. She hadn't had an appetite all day, and only now was she hungry.
As Heiner sat down, a servant brought out soup and a glass. Annette silently took the food to her mouth. For a moment, the only sound filling the room was the clatter of dishes.
“Ansgar Stetter came to the official residence.”
Stop.
Annette's hand, holding the fork, froze for a moment. She raised her head and looked at Heiner, but his face was remarkably ordinary.
A dish similar to Annette's was presented before Heiner: a mixed garnish of Muscovy duck stuffed with mushrooms, eggs, bread, and more.
Heiner dismissed all the servants in the dining room with a wave of his hand.
“What did you talk about?”
“Didn’t you already hear it all anyway?”
“But isn’t it different from hearing it from the person involved?”
“Go and marry him?”
A dry smile hung at the corners of Heiner's lips.
“Was the reason you asked me to divorce you so you could marry him?”
“It was the first time I saw Ansgar in four years.”
"I don't know. You might have been communicating behind my back. Like they were secretly following me."
Even if she had been in contact with Ansgar, why would that be subject to Heiner's censorship? A question welled up in Annette's throat, but she didn't say a word.
“You will never hold that hand.”
A decisive voice blocked her ears.
“There’s no way you’ll ever get out of here.”
A dark, persistent gaze fell upon Annette's face. Annette stared blankly at the half-cut asparagus, thinking.
If Ansgar was indeed a restorationist force, Heiner would naturally be reluctant to hand her over to them. This wasn't a matter of sentiment.
Perhaps that's why divorce isn't allowed. It's easier to impose restrictions when you're legally bound...
'But then why do Heiner's associates disagree with him about the divorce?'
No suitable answer came to mind. Annette didn't consider herself particularly clever. In fact, even if she tried to reason, she couldn't do anything.
She gave up on thinking any further. The strength left her hand. The fork clanked against the silverware. Heiner stared at the withered hand for a moment.
Annette changed into her street clothes early in the morning. She packed some money, headache medicine, and a handkerchief in her bag. Finally, she draped the black veil attached to her hat over her face, and she was ready.
“I’m going to church. I don’t need an attendant.”
“But, ma’am.”
“I’m going to pray. I don’t want to be in a hurry.”
“If you wish to go out alone, you must first obtain permission from the Commander.”
There was no way Heiner would grant her permission. She even questioned why she needed his permission in the first place, but the attendant was stubborn. Ultimately, she gave up and brought the attendant with her.
Annette drove to a nearby church. She used to be religious, but she hadn't been to church in quite some time. This was a stark contrast to Heiner, who, despite not being religious, regularly attended services.
The church was empty on a weekday afternoon. Annette put money in the offering box and sat down in the front row. A cross hung above the altar.
Annette stared blankly at the crucifix as she prayed. She didn't close her eyes. She didn't even fold her hands. She simply muttered to herself.
"Forgive me my sins. Forgive me for all my sins. Forgive me for what I have done. Forgive me for what I have left. You can do it. Please save me."
But there was no answer. While countless people claimed to have received answers from God, Annette had never experienced one.
She felt a bit desperate and clenched her fists.
"Why don't you forgive me? Why did you throw me into this mess? Why do you make me suffer like this? Why do you...?"
Annette, who had been lamenting, suddenly stopped praying. It felt pointless.
Annette stood up, carrying her bag. She handed a letter to the attendant waiting at the entrance.
"If you go through the back door, you'll find an old man. Please give this to him. He's not feeling well, so he might be a little late."
“Can I look over the contents?”
“...Do whatever you want.”
The attendant who opened and read the letter put it back, judging that there was nothing unusual about it.
As soon as the attendant left, Annette hurried out of the church. She hailed a handsome cab (a two-wheeled, two-seat, rented carriage) on the road and climbed into it.
“Please go to the train station.”
The carriage pulled away. Annette looked back. There was no one following.
There was never any old man waiting at the back door. She just needed an excuse to shake off the attendants.
The carriage picked up speed. Annette leaned back against the backrest and closed her eyes. She could vividly feel her heart pounding.
A few days ago, she dreamed of the sea at Glenford. She wanted to see it in person.
There was still quite a bit of time left until the train departed. The earlier trains were already sold out. Annette sat helplessly in the waiting area, watching the people passing by.
Everyone was moving busily, as if they were busy with something. Annette tilted her head, looking at the boy struggling with a suitcase as big as his body.
Where is everyone going and what is everyone doing?
What goal are you trying to achieve by working so hard?
It's a given that everyone has their own life, but it felt refreshingly new. It was also amazing how everyone was finding their own path without getting lost.
The world spun rapidly, except for Annette. She was left alone.
After quite some time, the train finally arrived at the station. Annette wandered around for a bit, holding her ticket.
'D200, G―12...'
It had been so long since she had taken a train, and since she had always been shown to a first-class seat by the conductor, this was her first time finding her own seat.
Eventually, Annette asked the crew for help.
“Excuse me, could you please check my ticket? Where should I take it...?”
"Just a moment. Oh, it's the next compartment. There should be a seat number posted above, so just check and sit down."
Annette boarded the train and luckily found a seat quickly. The four seats facing each other were cramped and uncomfortable.
Passengers on the train held newspapers like shields. Annette pulled her hat down low for no reason. She was afraid her article might be in the paper.
It took about seven hours to get to Glenford. Annette stared out the window, then, unable to bear the boredom, bought a magazine from the on-board vendor. But even that gave her a headache, and she quickly put it down.
“Hey, miss.”
The old man in the front seat suddenly spoke to me.
"Yes?"
“Have you read all of that?”
“Ah... that’s not it. I was just about to stop reading. Would you like to read it?”
“Then thank you.”
The old man nodded and accepted the magazine. Annette observed him discreetly. The shabby-dressed man looked thin and impoverished.
Annette, after a moment of observing, bought a sandwich and orange juice from the salesperson. The sandwich, wrapped in a plastic wrap, was cut in half.
She lifted the veil slightly and took a bite of the sandwich. The dry bread crumbled in her mouth. It was the worst sandwich she ever had.
The old man, who had been reading a magazine, glanced up at her. Annette rewrapped the sandwich, which she had only opened at the top.
Soon, the old man put down the magazine. Annette, who had been fidgeting with her hands, asked in a gentle voice.
“Would you like to try this?”
“...Didn’t you buy it to eat it, young lady?”
“I tried to do that, but I didn’t feel well.”
The old man hesitated for a moment, then muttered, "Thank you," and took the sandwich. Annette added urgently.
“Oh, but I was eating one, so I took the other one...”
"It's okay."
The old man, oblivious to Annette's request, took a large bite of the sandwich she had placed in his mouth. As he was chewing, he began to casually strike up a conversation.
“Where are you going, young lady?”
Annette couldn't hide her joy and answered quickly.
“I’m going to Glenford.”
"Travel?"
“Um... I guess so. I want to see the ocean.”
The sea at Glenford was renowned for its beauty. Annette had visited there long ago for relaxation.
“Alone? Not with your lover?”
“I’m married.”
“Oh, you’re married. Are you leaving your husband behind?”
“My relationship with my husband isn’t good. We’re even talking about divorce.”
“Do you have children?”
“No, there isn’t.”
"No kids, that's fine. A lot of young people get divorced these days. It won't be a big deal anymore."
“Really?”
"True enough. When I was young, divorce was considered a flaw for a woman, but times have changed a lot. Women's lives have become more comfortable, and there are no more noble families. Life is still tough, though..."
Annette's lips twitched. It was difficult to respond. Does that old man also hate nobles? It would be strange if he didn't.
After Annette was silent for a while, the old man swallowed his sandwich and asked.
“Why aren’t you on good terms with your husband?”
“...It’s just... My husband and his people don’t like me. And I don’t want to live with him anymore.”
“There was no affection for living together?”
“Well, maybe that person... wouldn’t mind if I died.”
"I know that feeling. The idea that someone hates you is much harder to bear than you might think."
The old man put down his hand holding the sandwich for a moment and spoke in a serious tone.
"But I can't be loved by everyone. That's just unavoidable. I have no choice but to live with those who love me."
The voice sounded somewhat lonely. Annette stared blankly for a moment, then nodded slightly. Her mouth felt bitter.
All the people who love me are dead, so what should I do?
I don't want to be loved by everyone. I just don't want to be hated by everyone. If all I have left is the right to be hated—what should I do?
Thoughts slowly drifted away. The train rattled. Golden wheat fields stretched out beyond the window.
The old man rustled open the wrapper and took out the rest of the sandwich. Annette, watching his wrinkled fingertips, handed him some orange juice.
Heiner, who had spotted Annette, raised his eyebrows slightly. He spoke with a look of surprise.
“At this hour? What a surprise.”
Annette answered with a slight nod of her head. She hadn't had an appetite all day, and only now was she hungry.
As Heiner sat down, a servant brought out soup and a glass. Annette silently took the food to her mouth. For a moment, the only sound filling the room was the clatter of dishes.
“Ansgar Stetter came to the official residence.”
Stop.
Annette's hand, holding the fork, froze for a moment. She raised her head and looked at Heiner, but his face was remarkably ordinary.
A dish similar to Annette's was presented before Heiner: a mixed garnish of Muscovy duck stuffed with mushrooms, eggs, bread, and more.
Heiner dismissed all the servants in the dining room with a wave of his hand.
“What did you talk about?”
“Didn’t you already hear it all anyway?”
“But isn’t it different from hearing it from the person involved?”
“...He said, let's get divorced and go to France together. That's all.”
A dry smile hung at the corners of Heiner's lips.
“Was the reason you asked me to divorce you so you could marry him?”
“It was the first time I saw Ansgar in four years.”
"I don't know. You might have been communicating behind my back. Like they were secretly following me."
Even if she had been in contact with Ansgar, why would that be subject to Heiner's censorship? A question welled up in Annette's throat, but she didn't say a word.
“You will never hold that hand.”
A decisive voice blocked her ears.
“There’s no way you’ll ever get out of here.”
A dark, persistent gaze fell upon Annette's face. Annette stared blankly at the half-cut asparagus, thinking.
If Ansgar was indeed a restorationist force, Heiner would naturally be reluctant to hand her over to them. This wasn't a matter of sentiment.
Perhaps that's why divorce isn't allowed. It's easier to impose restrictions when you're legally bound...
'But then why do Heiner's associates disagree with him about the divorce?'
No suitable answer came to mind. Annette didn't consider herself particularly clever. In fact, even if she tried to reason, she couldn't do anything.
She gave up on thinking any further. The strength left her hand. The fork clanked against the silverware. Heiner stared at the withered hand for a moment.
***
Annette changed into her street clothes early in the morning. She packed some money, headache medicine, and a handkerchief in her bag. Finally, she draped the black veil attached to her hat over her face, and she was ready.
“I’m going to church. I don’t need an attendant.”
“But, ma’am.”
“I’m going to pray. I don’t want to be in a hurry.”
“If you wish to go out alone, you must first obtain permission from the Commander.”
There was no way Heiner would grant her permission. She even questioned why she needed his permission in the first place, but the attendant was stubborn. Ultimately, she gave up and brought the attendant with her.
Annette drove to a nearby church. She used to be religious, but she hadn't been to church in quite some time. This was a stark contrast to Heiner, who, despite not being religious, regularly attended services.
The church was empty on a weekday afternoon. Annette put money in the offering box and sat down in the front row. A cross hung above the altar.
Annette stared blankly at the crucifix as she prayed. She didn't close her eyes. She didn't even fold her hands. She simply muttered to herself.
"Forgive me my sins. Forgive me for all my sins. Forgive me for what I have done. Forgive me for what I have left. You can do it. Please save me."
But there was no answer. While countless people claimed to have received answers from God, Annette had never experienced one.
She felt a bit desperate and clenched her fists.
"Why don't you forgive me? Why did you throw me into this mess? Why do you make me suffer like this? Why do you...?"
Annette, who had been lamenting, suddenly stopped praying. It felt pointless.
Annette stood up, carrying her bag. She handed a letter to the attendant waiting at the entrance.
"If you go through the back door, you'll find an old man. Please give this to him. He's not feeling well, so he might be a little late."
“Can I look over the contents?”
“...Do whatever you want.”
The attendant who opened and read the letter put it back, judging that there was nothing unusual about it.
As soon as the attendant left, Annette hurried out of the church. She hailed a handsome cab (a two-wheeled, two-seat, rented carriage) on the road and climbed into it.
“Please go to the train station.”
The carriage pulled away. Annette looked back. There was no one following.
There was never any old man waiting at the back door. She just needed an excuse to shake off the attendants.
The carriage picked up speed. Annette leaned back against the backrest and closed her eyes. She could vividly feel her heart pounding.
A few days ago, she dreamed of the sea at Glenford. She wanted to see it in person.
***
There was still quite a bit of time left until the train departed. The earlier trains were already sold out. Annette sat helplessly in the waiting area, watching the people passing by.
Everyone was moving busily, as if they were busy with something. Annette tilted her head, looking at the boy struggling with a suitcase as big as his body.
Where is everyone going and what is everyone doing?
What goal are you trying to achieve by working so hard?
It's a given that everyone has their own life, but it felt refreshingly new. It was also amazing how everyone was finding their own path without getting lost.
The world spun rapidly, except for Annette. She was left alone.
After quite some time, the train finally arrived at the station. Annette wandered around for a bit, holding her ticket.
'D200, G―12...'
It had been so long since she had taken a train, and since she had always been shown to a first-class seat by the conductor, this was her first time finding her own seat.
Eventually, Annette asked the crew for help.
“Excuse me, could you please check my ticket? Where should I take it...?”
"Just a moment. Oh, it's the next compartment. There should be a seat number posted above, so just check and sit down."
Annette boarded the train and luckily found a seat quickly. The four seats facing each other were cramped and uncomfortable.
Passengers on the train held newspapers like shields. Annette pulled her hat down low for no reason. She was afraid her article might be in the paper.
It took about seven hours to get to Glenford. Annette stared out the window, then, unable to bear the boredom, bought a magazine from the on-board vendor. But even that gave her a headache, and she quickly put it down.
“Hey, miss.”
The old man in the front seat suddenly spoke to me.
"Yes?"
“Have you read all of that?”
“Ah... that’s not it. I was just about to stop reading. Would you like to read it?”
“Then thank you.”
The old man nodded and accepted the magazine. Annette observed him discreetly. The shabby-dressed man looked thin and impoverished.
Annette, after a moment of observing, bought a sandwich and orange juice from the salesperson. The sandwich, wrapped in a plastic wrap, was cut in half.
She lifted the veil slightly and took a bite of the sandwich. The dry bread crumbled in her mouth. It was the worst sandwich she ever had.
The old man, who had been reading a magazine, glanced up at her. Annette rewrapped the sandwich, which she had only opened at the top.
Soon, the old man put down the magazine. Annette, who had been fidgeting with her hands, asked in a gentle voice.
“Would you like to try this?”
“...Didn’t you buy it to eat it, young lady?”
“I tried to do that, but I didn’t feel well.”
The old man hesitated for a moment, then muttered, "Thank you," and took the sandwich. Annette added urgently.
“Oh, but I was eating one, so I took the other one...”
"It's okay."
The old man, oblivious to Annette's request, took a large bite of the sandwich she had placed in his mouth. As he was chewing, he began to casually strike up a conversation.
“Where are you going, young lady?”
Annette couldn't hide her joy and answered quickly.
“I’m going to Glenford.”
"Travel?"
“Um... I guess so. I want to see the ocean.”
The sea at Glenford was renowned for its beauty. Annette had visited there long ago for relaxation.
“Alone? Not with your lover?”
“I’m married.”
“Oh, you’re married. Are you leaving your husband behind?”
“My relationship with my husband isn’t good. We’re even talking about divorce.”
“Do you have children?”
“No, there isn’t.”
"No kids, that's fine. A lot of young people get divorced these days. It won't be a big deal anymore."
“Really?”
"True enough. When I was young, divorce was considered a flaw for a woman, but times have changed a lot. Women's lives have become more comfortable, and there are no more noble families. Life is still tough, though..."
Annette's lips twitched. It was difficult to respond. Does that old man also hate nobles? It would be strange if he didn't.
After Annette was silent for a while, the old man swallowed his sandwich and asked.
“Why aren’t you on good terms with your husband?”
“...It’s just... My husband and his people don’t like me. And I don’t want to live with him anymore.”
“There was no affection for living together?”
“Well, maybe that person... wouldn’t mind if I died.”
"I know that feeling. The idea that someone hates you is much harder to bear than you might think."
The old man put down his hand holding the sandwich for a moment and spoke in a serious tone.
"But I can't be loved by everyone. That's just unavoidable. I have no choice but to live with those who love me."
The voice sounded somewhat lonely. Annette stared blankly for a moment, then nodded slightly. Her mouth felt bitter.
All the people who love me are dead, so what should I do?
I don't want to be loved by everyone. I just don't want to be hated by everyone. If all I have left is the right to be hated—what should I do?
Thoughts slowly drifted away. The train rattled. Golden wheat fields stretched out beyond the window.
The old man rustled open the wrapper and took out the rest of the sandwich. Annette, watching his wrinkled fingertips, handed him some orange juice.
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