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Annette entered the innermost room on the first floor of the residence. Turning on a few incandescent lights lining the walls revealed the interior.
In the middle of the room, something large lay covered in a white cloth. She grabbed the end of the cloth, hesitated for a moment, then slowly pulled it away.
A glossy black surface was revealed. It was the piano she had used since her maiden days. After her marriage, it had been moved from the Rosenberg mansion to the Valdemar mansion, and then to the official residence after Heiner became commander-in-chief.
Annette sat down at the piano and opened the lid. The keys were clean, unblemished. However, it hadn't been tuned for a long time, so it seemed difficult to expect a clean sound.
She stared at the keyboard, still certain of what notes she could produce by pressing a key.
'It's all useless now.'
After her father's death, she was naturally unable to enter the competition. Annette's entire career collapsed. She was branded with the label that she'd achieved it through power, connections, and money.
It was from then on that she couldn't play the piano. She couldn't even press the keys, let alone play.
At first, she tried countless times to play it again, but all failed. After that, she completely ignored the piano. She just lived her life forgetting about it. She tried to do that.
'I thought things would get better with time... '
The keyboard's surface, illuminated by the dim incandescent light, was pale. Touching it made her fingertips freeze and feel as if they would shatter.
Dawn deepened. Annette, who had been sitting in front of it for a while, suddenly realized something.
There was really nothing left for her.
"The main armament was a .30-caliber bolt-action rifle with a five-round magazine. It certainly appears to have a high degree of closure, making it less likely to malfunction."
"At this point, I guess I won't need to use a semi-automatic weapon. And here, can't we make the barrel as far away from the gun as possible?"
“Let me tell you.”
Heiner nodded and wrapped the gun model back in the cloth. For sniper primary weapons, he tended to personally review and approve the models.
"It's past closing time. That's all for today. Thanks for your hard work."
"Yes!"
Brigadier General Fritz and Major Eugen saluted and left the Commander-in-Chief's office.
After reviewing and stamping the documents regarding the fighter purchase, Heiner looked over France's diplomatic status report.
'Weapon purchase history...'
Heiner's eyebrows furrowed as he checked France's military supplies list.
Although Ratland had long ago become independent from France, many French people still lived there. They were pro-French, hoping for reunification with France. The motivation for war was ample.
Even Ratland was in a state of internal turmoil due to frequent military coups. If this civil war escalated into a diplomatic dispute between the major powers, a major war could erupt.
Heiner maintained the defense treaty smoothly with a sense of maturity that was not befitting his age, but this did not provide a definitive answer.
"The clear picture hasn't yet emerged. But that doesn't mean we can just sit back and watch."
It was a time when most countries were showing nationalistic tendencies. A war like this would undoubtedly spark a surge of volunteers. Countless sacrifices would follow.
Heiner knew the aftereffects of war. He had, and his comrades had. Anyone who has experienced any trauma, in some way or another...
“...I want to go home.”
The accident suddenly stopped in one place.
Heiner lifted his hand from his forehead, a slightly annoyed expression on his face. Why was I thinking of that woman here?
He rubbed his eyes and looked at the paper again. But the letters were beyond his comprehension, disintegrating into fragments of letters.
No matter how hard he tried to banish distracting thoughts, nothing worked. It was always like that with that woman. Heiner looked up from his papers, as if his head was aching.
A series of scenes played over and over in his head.
The eyes that looked at him as if asking for help, the body trembling slightly in front of the piano, the strangled face running out of the banquet hall, the back of the figure sitting down and retching...
Annette's behavior at that time seemed like a manifestation of trauma.
"Ha."
Heiner chuckled involuntarily. Trauma? Trauma? What kind of trauma could a woman who hadn't shed a tear in three years have?
'When I was young, I used to cry a lot for no reason.'
While the woman was shedding tears, complaining that her piano skills were not improving, Heiner was undergoing harsh training at the training center, being verbally abused and beaten.
While she was throwing a classy party in her luxurious and comfortable mansion, he killed and tortured people under the pretext of an operation.
That kind of woman is traumatized.
The papers in Heiner's hand were slightly crumpled. He gritted his teeth and tossed them carelessly. The papers fell with a flutter.
“I’m getting a divorce, Heiner.”
A woman who was so agitated by a single piano, yet spoke of divorce with a calm expression, as if such things meant nothing.
“Am I still useful to you?”
Useless? Useless. But the time to discuss its usefulness was long past.
Heiner knew this choice was irrational. But he couldn't just let it go.
What did he endure to get that woman?
“It must have been hard pretending to love your enemy’s daughter.”
“...Damn it.”
Heiner wiped his face with one hand.
The foolish unrequited love from his young and lonely days was just a past he wanted to erase.
The butler relayed the message to Heiner, who had returned to the residence. His expression hardened as he listened to the report. Without even changing into his uniform, Heiner headed straight to Annette's bedroom.
After the opening banquet at the Belen Hotel, Annette secluded herself in her room. She was usually a woman who rarely came out, but this time it was even more extreme.
According to the butler, she even refused to eat. It wasn't something he cared about, but he was annoyed, thinking it might be a sign of resistance.
His hand, about to fling open the bedroom door, faltered for a moment. Heiner clenched his fist, then unclenched it, and knocked twice on the door.
Because that noble lady would despise such ungentlemanly behavior.
'I've already turned that woman's mind against everything, how ridiculous.'
Heiner opened the door with a self-deprecating laugh. Inside, Annette was embroidering, her posture stiff. She still looked unpleasantly aloof.
Annette didn't even glance at him. Her face, with her eyes downcast and her lips pressed shut, was flawless as if measured with a ruler.
In contrast to that perfectly still-life scene, a bag of medicine was rolling around on one side of the table. A look of displeasure flashed across Heiner's eyes as he saw it.
“...Are you just sitting in your room all day? And you’re skipping meals?”
He said, hiding his irritation beneath his cold tone.
“Are you protesting or something?”
“It’s not like that, so don’t worry about it.”
“How many pills are there?”
Heiner muttered and strode briskly toward the side table. The translucent papers rolling above it were all empty. He opened the drawer beneath the table.
Annette, who was threading colored thread on the cloth, suddenly raised her head.
“Why are you opening it so carelessly─”
“Have you hidden any confidential documents?”
“That’s not it.”
“Then, is there any problem with seeing it?”
There was no more word behind him. Heiner closed the first drawer and opened the second. Inside were several packets of medicine and a palm-sized container.
The opened container was half-filled with white medicine. He placed a few drops on his palm and examined them. The small, round pills were engraved with letters and numbers.
“What is this?”
Heiner turned and asked. Annette blinked a few times and answered hesitantly.
“...It’s just medicine.”
“Aren’t you receiving medication from Arnold regularly?”
Annette was a woman who took medication more often than she ate. Fearing that she was overdosing, he insisted that Arnold prescribe her medications in individual envelopes, not vials, periodically.
“I haven’t been taking it much lately... so it’s accumulated because I haven’t been taking it.”
Accumulated? If it really was due to not taking them, they should have been stored in individual envelopes. Instead of being collected like this.
Heiner closed the lid of the medicine bottle with a hardened face.
“I’ll take this first.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I don't think there's any need to keep the old medicine. Please get a new prescription from your doctor.”
It was a stubborn voice that allowed no excuses or objections. Annette's lips moved as if she was about to say something, then she lowered her head helplessly.
Suddenly, Heiner's gaze fell on the embroidery on the table. Even to him, who was unfamiliar with the embroidery, the white cloth looked crooked and disorganized.
Heiner knew that Annette was quite skilled at embroidery. In the past, Annette had given him several hand-embroidered handkerchiefs of her own making.
“Heiner, it’s a gift.”
The embroidery on the handkerchief she handed over with a shy smile was so delicate and beautiful. Heiner thought that if this subject had been offered at the training center, he would have definitely failed.
He used to laugh at the noble lady, saying, "She only learns such polite and elegant things, but she seems to have so much leisure."
He didn't use that disgusting handkerchief. But he couldn't throw it away either. Even now, he still remembers it. In reality, he just threw it away, but he vividly remembered its shape and intricacy.
The embroidery then and now was so different that it was hard to believe it was done by the same person. It was as if a child had done it...
Heiner, who had been staring at the embroidery before him as if it were an annoyance, pressed the call button. A servant came in immediately. Heiner gave an order without even looking back.
“Send me some food. Something light.”
In the middle of the room, something large lay covered in a white cloth. She grabbed the end of the cloth, hesitated for a moment, then slowly pulled it away.
A glossy black surface was revealed. It was the piano she had used since her maiden days. After her marriage, it had been moved from the Rosenberg mansion to the Valdemar mansion, and then to the official residence after Heiner became commander-in-chief.
Annette sat down at the piano and opened the lid. The keys were clean, unblemished. However, it hadn't been tuned for a long time, so it seemed difficult to expect a clean sound.
She stared at the keyboard, still certain of what notes she could produce by pressing a key.
'It's all useless now.'
After her father's death, she was naturally unable to enter the competition. Annette's entire career collapsed. She was branded with the label that she'd achieved it through power, connections, and money.
It was from then on that she couldn't play the piano. She couldn't even press the keys, let alone play.
At first, she tried countless times to play it again, but all failed. After that, she completely ignored the piano. She just lived her life forgetting about it. She tried to do that.
'I thought things would get better with time... '
The keyboard's surface, illuminated by the dim incandescent light, was pale. Touching it made her fingertips freeze and feel as if they would shatter.
Dawn deepened. Annette, who had been sitting in front of it for a while, suddenly realized something.
There was really nothing left for her.
***
"The main armament was a .30-caliber bolt-action rifle with a five-round magazine. It certainly appears to have a high degree of closure, making it less likely to malfunction."
"At this point, I guess I won't need to use a semi-automatic weapon. And here, can't we make the barrel as far away from the gun as possible?"
“Let me tell you.”
Heiner nodded and wrapped the gun model back in the cloth. For sniper primary weapons, he tended to personally review and approve the models.
"It's past closing time. That's all for today. Thanks for your hard work."
"Yes!"
Brigadier General Fritz and Major Eugen saluted and left the Commander-in-Chief's office.
After reviewing and stamping the documents regarding the fighter purchase, Heiner looked over France's diplomatic status report.
'Weapon purchase history...'
Heiner's eyebrows furrowed as he checked France's military supplies list.
Although Ratland had long ago become independent from France, many French people still lived there. They were pro-French, hoping for reunification with France. The motivation for war was ample.
Even Ratland was in a state of internal turmoil due to frequent military coups. If this civil war escalated into a diplomatic dispute between the major powers, a major war could erupt.
Heiner maintained the defense treaty smoothly with a sense of maturity that was not befitting his age, but this did not provide a definitive answer.
"The clear picture hasn't yet emerged. But that doesn't mean we can just sit back and watch."
It was a time when most countries were showing nationalistic tendencies. A war like this would undoubtedly spark a surge of volunteers. Countless sacrifices would follow.
Heiner knew the aftereffects of war. He had, and his comrades had. Anyone who has experienced any trauma, in some way or another...
“...I want to go home.”
The accident suddenly stopped in one place.
Heiner lifted his hand from his forehead, a slightly annoyed expression on his face. Why was I thinking of that woman here?
He rubbed his eyes and looked at the paper again. But the letters were beyond his comprehension, disintegrating into fragments of letters.
No matter how hard he tried to banish distracting thoughts, nothing worked. It was always like that with that woman. Heiner looked up from his papers, as if his head was aching.
A series of scenes played over and over in his head.
The eyes that looked at him as if asking for help, the body trembling slightly in front of the piano, the strangled face running out of the banquet hall, the back of the figure sitting down and retching...
Annette's behavior at that time seemed like a manifestation of trauma.
"Ha."
Heiner chuckled involuntarily. Trauma? Trauma? What kind of trauma could a woman who hadn't shed a tear in three years have?
'When I was young, I used to cry a lot for no reason.'
While the woman was shedding tears, complaining that her piano skills were not improving, Heiner was undergoing harsh training at the training center, being verbally abused and beaten.
While she was throwing a classy party in her luxurious and comfortable mansion, he killed and tortured people under the pretext of an operation.
That kind of woman is traumatized.
The papers in Heiner's hand were slightly crumpled. He gritted his teeth and tossed them carelessly. The papers fell with a flutter.
“I’m getting a divorce, Heiner.”
A woman who was so agitated by a single piano, yet spoke of divorce with a calm expression, as if such things meant nothing.
“Am I still useful to you?”
Useless? Useless. But the time to discuss its usefulness was long past.
Heiner knew this choice was irrational. But he couldn't just let it go.
What did he endure to get that woman?
“It must have been hard pretending to love your enemy’s daughter.”
“...Damn it.”
Heiner wiped his face with one hand.
The foolish unrequited love from his young and lonely days was just a past he wanted to erase.
***
The butler relayed the message to Heiner, who had returned to the residence. His expression hardened as he listened to the report. Without even changing into his uniform, Heiner headed straight to Annette's bedroom.
After the opening banquet at the Belen Hotel, Annette secluded herself in her room. She was usually a woman who rarely came out, but this time it was even more extreme.
According to the butler, she even refused to eat. It wasn't something he cared about, but he was annoyed, thinking it might be a sign of resistance.
His hand, about to fling open the bedroom door, faltered for a moment. Heiner clenched his fist, then unclenched it, and knocked twice on the door.
Because that noble lady would despise such ungentlemanly behavior.
'I've already turned that woman's mind against everything, how ridiculous.'
Heiner opened the door with a self-deprecating laugh. Inside, Annette was embroidering, her posture stiff. She still looked unpleasantly aloof.
Annette didn't even glance at him. Her face, with her eyes downcast and her lips pressed shut, was flawless as if measured with a ruler.
In contrast to that perfectly still-life scene, a bag of medicine was rolling around on one side of the table. A look of displeasure flashed across Heiner's eyes as he saw it.
“...Are you just sitting in your room all day? And you’re skipping meals?”
He said, hiding his irritation beneath his cold tone.
“Are you protesting or something?”
“It’s not like that, so don’t worry about it.”
“How many pills are there?”
Heiner muttered and strode briskly toward the side table. The translucent papers rolling above it were all empty. He opened the drawer beneath the table.
Annette, who was threading colored thread on the cloth, suddenly raised her head.
“Why are you opening it so carelessly─”
“Have you hidden any confidential documents?”
“That’s not it.”
“Then, is there any problem with seeing it?”
There was no more word behind him. Heiner closed the first drawer and opened the second. Inside were several packets of medicine and a palm-sized container.
The opened container was half-filled with white medicine. He placed a few drops on his palm and examined them. The small, round pills were engraved with letters and numbers.
“What is this?”
Heiner turned and asked. Annette blinked a few times and answered hesitantly.
“...It’s just medicine.”
“Aren’t you receiving medication from Arnold regularly?”
Annette was a woman who took medication more often than she ate. Fearing that she was overdosing, he insisted that Arnold prescribe her medications in individual envelopes, not vials, periodically.
“I haven’t been taking it much lately... so it’s accumulated because I haven’t been taking it.”
Accumulated? If it really was due to not taking them, they should have been stored in individual envelopes. Instead of being collected like this.
Heiner closed the lid of the medicine bottle with a hardened face.
“I’ll take this first.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I don't think there's any need to keep the old medicine. Please get a new prescription from your doctor.”
It was a stubborn voice that allowed no excuses or objections. Annette's lips moved as if she was about to say something, then she lowered her head helplessly.
Suddenly, Heiner's gaze fell on the embroidery on the table. Even to him, who was unfamiliar with the embroidery, the white cloth looked crooked and disorganized.
Heiner knew that Annette was quite skilled at embroidery. In the past, Annette had given him several hand-embroidered handkerchiefs of her own making.
“Heiner, it’s a gift.”
The embroidery on the handkerchief she handed over with a shy smile was so delicate and beautiful. Heiner thought that if this subject had been offered at the training center, he would have definitely failed.
He used to laugh at the noble lady, saying, "She only learns such polite and elegant things, but she seems to have so much leisure."
He didn't use that disgusting handkerchief. But he couldn't throw it away either. Even now, he still remembers it. In reality, he just threw it away, but he vividly remembered its shape and intricacy.
The embroidery then and now was so different that it was hard to believe it was done by the same person. It was as if a child had done it...
Heiner, who had been staring at the embroidery before him as if it were an annoyance, pressed the call button. A servant came in immediately. Heiner gave an order without even looking back.
“Send me some food. Something light.”
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