The old man's scream, like a scream from a chair, seemed to be an outburst of despair and fear that had been building up for a very long time.
He had returned from a happy childhood with a loving family to the life of a lonely old man.
"It shouldn't be created anywhere! That's why I sacrificed my family to stop it!"
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Grandfather-in-law.”
Merlin, with a flustered expression, didn't know what to do.
"Are you saying you don't know what that horrible thing Benedict was researching, even though you're his wife? It's a disaster that could sicken and kill innocent people."
“Grandpa, I don’t know the details of what he did. I just heard that he failed.”
"No, Benedict was more than capable. He was better than me. He was just a coward, a weakling, and unable to withstand intense pressure."
Dr. Rugen's voice cracked as he continued.
"The mad, brain-dead Frogen likened his plan to the Last Judgment and called it the Michael Plan. A catastrophe: flames falling upon the earth, seas stained with corpses and blood, rivers poisoned, and those who drank from it would die. He said he would seize the power of this god. To eliminate inferior races and leave only the superior human race in the world!"
As I was pondering Dr. Rugen's words, I was startled and took a step back.
I felt like I knew what he feared. It wasn't just the idea of a person dying from a bomb, but the "radiation exposure" of cells being destroyed and slowly burning away from within. He might have seen it firsthand through biological experiments. The thought of potentially bringing tragedy to someone's parents, children, friends, and loved ones must have filled him with unbearable guilt.
Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.
(Now I am the god of death, the destroyer of worlds.)
This is what a scientist in the history of the world said after experimenting with its power. They regretted it so much that they wished they could turn back time.
“Radioactive fallout...”
I muttered aloud without realizing it, then hastily covered my mouth. In my world, nuclear weapons could be used to destroy a nation's capital and regime, but the catastrophic destruction of humanity never occurred. Despite being developed as a tool of war, they were used as diplomatic leverage to deter war. They were dropped as an example, demonstrating their power to the international community. But it suddenly occurred to me that most of the rivers on the Guiana continent are connected, and the countries are close together. The United Kingdom of Medea is also an island not far from the continent. It's not like the surroundings of a targeted country are completely unaffected. Noah's suggestion to go to the distant New World, 4,000 miles away, must have been a simple statement.
A painful coughing sound continued for a while in the now-quiet room. Dr. Rugen bent over, clutching his neck, his face contorted in pain.
“Call Benedict. I have something to tell him.”
Merlin, who had helped Dr. Rugen lie down on the bed, nodded with a confused expression.
Soon, Benedict entered the room with Merlin, his face pale. His blue eyes, behind his transparent glasses, wandered here and there, perhaps with a complex mind. Dr. Rugen, lying on the bed, tilted his head weakly, looking at him.
“I thought you were dead.”
"Grandfather..."
"I was the one who drove you and your parents to their deaths. Because I should have. I was a bad grandfather."
Benedict, who had been staring at his own feet, sighed as if the ground was sinking. His voice was becoming increasingly hoarse.
“I... knew my grandfather’s concerns, but I tried to complete it to save my life.”
"Benedict, it's too early for humanity. Please, don't let the scientists of this era commit such diabolical sins. For the sake of your child."
“Grandpa. I’m really... sorry.”
Amidst the sinking silence, a cough, phlegm-curdling, echoed. Dr. Rugen, who had been coughing painfully several times, finally vomited blood.
Dark red blood seeped into the white clothes and bedding and spread.
“Diana.”
He called me in a hoarse voice. As I slowly approached, his withered hand waved in the air as if trying to grasp mine. I took his hand. It was frighteningly cold, hard as tree bark from which all moisture had drained, and my heart sank.
“Don't be too sad or lonely. I hope you live a long and happy life.”
It sounded like a will, so I shook my head vigorously. The thought of my grandfather's final moments filled me with anxiety.
“Why are you talking as if this is your last time?”
"I have sinned against your generation, against your children's generation. Perhaps you have suffered the most. I am sorry."
I had a gut feeling that he was on the verge of ending his long journey called life. Tears streamed down his face as he stared at the empty ceiling, as if recalling the people he had longed for.
I spoke calmly, trying not to lose my composure.
"No. Don't blame yourself too much. It was bound to happen anyway. Even if you hadn't done it."
“My death is the same. Everything will return to zero.”
He smiled faintly. That was the last I saw of Fred Rugen, the man who had permeated my life and daily routine.
Dr. Rugen is dead.
Still, morning came, and the sun rose. The world continued as usual, seemingly oblivious to someone's death. Employees went about their daily tasks, and beyond the window, the chimneys of industrial plants belched out black smoke in the distance. People, cars, and carriages on the street in front of the mansion busily headed somewhere. The scene was no different from yesterday.
The Liberts attended as mourners, keeping their identities a secret, and Dr. Rugen's funeral was held at a nearby church, presided over by Noah and me. The church bells tolled during the service, sounding slow and distant. Not many people attended the funeral. Barbara, dressed in a black dress, and Mary, the Viscount's daughter, whom I'd met several times before, came to offer me comfort.
Mr. Johannes Gunther, the old painter who had painted portraits of Noah and me, also came to visit after hearing the news. He had already experienced many separations and looked detached, as if accustomed to them. Daniel, holding the Duke of Hessen's hand, placed a white flower on Dr. Rugen's hand as he lay in the coffin. Even at a young age, Daniel understood the meaning of death.
“I liked my grandfather.”
Daniel lowered his head, holding back sobs and rubbing his eyes. He must have grown so much that he was struggling to hold back tears. I took out a handkerchief and wiped the tears that had trickled down his smooth cheeks.
“Yes, I did too.”
Daniel's tiny hand squeezed mine. His wet, crimson eyes looked at me comfortingly. I, too, was struggling to swallow something that was rising to my throat.
“Sister, let’s say goodbye to Grandpa together.”
I looked at the round back of Daniel's head, who was leading the way, holding my hand. The little boy stood looking down at Dr. Rugen, his voice choking with tears.
“Grandpa, it’s heavy to go up to heaven, so take only happy and good memories with you.”
I stood there blankly, my lips moving, unsure of what to say. I wondered if I had ever left him with a good memory. I recalled him grumbling, yet willingly sitting upright, posing for my portrait.
Even the fact that he looked closely at the picture he had drawn of himself and smiled briefly.
“You draw quite well.”
I wonder if I left a good memory for him.
Dr. Rugen was laid to rest in the nearby Ruisdel Cemetery. The fact that he could not return to his hometown even in death was a source of sorrow. As the black hearse carrying his coffin began to sink into the ground, covered with dirt, Dr. Libert covered his face and began to sob like a child.
“I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry.”
He constantly apologized, cried in despair, and cried. It was impossible to gauge his depth, but he seemed to be suffering and tormented, as if he were carrying considerable remorse.
Having seen the tombstone being erected, I raised my head and looked up at the gloomy sky. Next to me, I heard Noah's voice, no different from usual.
“I think it’s going to rain.”
A black mesh veil obscured my vision, obscuring Noah's expression as he stood there in his black suit and black tie. After the funeral, the Liberts disappeared. Noah wouldn't tell me anything about their whereabouts.
In the secret conference room located in the basement of the palace, Queen Grace II, military advisers, the Prime Minister, and other key ministers were present. Noah was also present.
“The Frogen Army is likely to pursue a machine gun-centric strategy, as they prioritize using light machine guns with the firepower of heavy machine guns.”
As Noah explained the blueprint, a uniformed staff member from the Supreme Staff Headquarters asked a question, rubbing his chin.
"Didn't Medea also complete the development of a lightweight heavy machine gun? Are you saying there's a need to develop a gun with superior performance through fewer parts and a simplified internal structure?"
"What I'm saying is that you need to prepare a strategy that appropriately deploys infantry with assault rifles and machine gunners. Machine gunners have limited movement due to barrel swaps and rapid fire control, which limits their field of vision. If the battlefield conditions aren't right, they'll struggle to exert their power."
"But if we were to compensate for that by hiding in bunkers or shelters and firing continuously, the infantry would be nothing more than cannon fodder. It would be difficult to even get close, and wouldn't that waste countless troops?"
“That’s why Her Majesty invested a lot of money in military aircraft such as strategic bombers and fighter transport aircraft.”
A small model airplane in Noah's hand traced a slow trajectory across the tactical board on the round mahogany table. He smiled leisurely.
“You can adopt a strategy of destroying them with aerial bombardment and then pushing forward with infantry with armored units at the forefront.”
General Harrington took off his cap and asked, running his gray-black hair back through his hair.
“Has there been no progress at the underground research lab at the Dakanhav base, which has been with us since the days of Duke Rotsilt?”
"If we can just find Dr. Rugen's grandson, it'll be complete. The bomber is also on a test flight."
Queen Grace, who had been sitting at the head table listening to their conversation, smiled elegantly and opened her mouth.
"In fact, the bomber cost more in budget, time, and manpower. The surviving Esatians believe it is the ark that will save the world. I have no doubt that the great powers, including our Medea, will, like the apostles, bring judgment upon the apostate nation of Frogen."
"Haha, they're a people who believe everything is God's will, so they possess a spirit of sacrifice and a sense of mission. Even though sin and judgment ultimately originate from humans."
As General Harrington chuckled, the Queen's smile gradually faded as she put down her teacup.
"Even if we follow the same path, our justifications are different. Just as Medea advocated peace and justice as a nation of gentlemen. Starting with the last anniversary, we negotiated an international peace treaty binding on all nations with the ambassadors of member states, and to date, we've organized a peace coalition of thirteen nations. Any violation of the treaty will be deemed a war criminal nation, and we will be permitted to suppress it with all force, regardless of international law. The Frogen Empire will soon break the international treaty."
Queen Grace II's cool green eyes sharpened.
“That is the beginning of a world war.”
He had returned from a happy childhood with a loving family to the life of a lonely old man.
"It shouldn't be created anywhere! That's why I sacrificed my family to stop it!"
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Grandfather-in-law.”
Merlin, with a flustered expression, didn't know what to do.
"Are you saying you don't know what that horrible thing Benedict was researching, even though you're his wife? It's a disaster that could sicken and kill innocent people."
“Grandpa, I don’t know the details of what he did. I just heard that he failed.”
"No, Benedict was more than capable. He was better than me. He was just a coward, a weakling, and unable to withstand intense pressure."
Dr. Rugen's voice cracked as he continued.
"The mad, brain-dead Frogen likened his plan to the Last Judgment and called it the Michael Plan. A catastrophe: flames falling upon the earth, seas stained with corpses and blood, rivers poisoned, and those who drank from it would die. He said he would seize the power of this god. To eliminate inferior races and leave only the superior human race in the world!"
As I was pondering Dr. Rugen's words, I was startled and took a step back.
I felt like I knew what he feared. It wasn't just the idea of a person dying from a bomb, but the "radiation exposure" of cells being destroyed and slowly burning away from within. He might have seen it firsthand through biological experiments. The thought of potentially bringing tragedy to someone's parents, children, friends, and loved ones must have filled him with unbearable guilt.
Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.
(Now I am the god of death, the destroyer of worlds.)
This is what a scientist in the history of the world said after experimenting with its power. They regretted it so much that they wished they could turn back time.
“Radioactive fallout...”
I muttered aloud without realizing it, then hastily covered my mouth. In my world, nuclear weapons could be used to destroy a nation's capital and regime, but the catastrophic destruction of humanity never occurred. Despite being developed as a tool of war, they were used as diplomatic leverage to deter war. They were dropped as an example, demonstrating their power to the international community. But it suddenly occurred to me that most of the rivers on the Guiana continent are connected, and the countries are close together. The United Kingdom of Medea is also an island not far from the continent. It's not like the surroundings of a targeted country are completely unaffected. Noah's suggestion to go to the distant New World, 4,000 miles away, must have been a simple statement.
A painful coughing sound continued for a while in the now-quiet room. Dr. Rugen bent over, clutching his neck, his face contorted in pain.
“Call Benedict. I have something to tell him.”
Merlin, who had helped Dr. Rugen lie down on the bed, nodded with a confused expression.
***
Soon, Benedict entered the room with Merlin, his face pale. His blue eyes, behind his transparent glasses, wandered here and there, perhaps with a complex mind. Dr. Rugen, lying on the bed, tilted his head weakly, looking at him.
“I thought you were dead.”
"Grandfather..."
"I was the one who drove you and your parents to their deaths. Because I should have. I was a bad grandfather."
Benedict, who had been staring at his own feet, sighed as if the ground was sinking. His voice was becoming increasingly hoarse.
“I... knew my grandfather’s concerns, but I tried to complete it to save my life.”
"Benedict, it's too early for humanity. Please, don't let the scientists of this era commit such diabolical sins. For the sake of your child."
“Grandpa. I’m really... sorry.”
Amidst the sinking silence, a cough, phlegm-curdling, echoed. Dr. Rugen, who had been coughing painfully several times, finally vomited blood.
Dark red blood seeped into the white clothes and bedding and spread.
“Diana.”
He called me in a hoarse voice. As I slowly approached, his withered hand waved in the air as if trying to grasp mine. I took his hand. It was frighteningly cold, hard as tree bark from which all moisture had drained, and my heart sank.
“Don't be too sad or lonely. I hope you live a long and happy life.”
It sounded like a will, so I shook my head vigorously. The thought of my grandfather's final moments filled me with anxiety.
“Why are you talking as if this is your last time?”
"I have sinned against your generation, against your children's generation. Perhaps you have suffered the most. I am sorry."
I had a gut feeling that he was on the verge of ending his long journey called life. Tears streamed down his face as he stared at the empty ceiling, as if recalling the people he had longed for.
I spoke calmly, trying not to lose my composure.
"No. Don't blame yourself too much. It was bound to happen anyway. Even if you hadn't done it."
“My death is the same. Everything will return to zero.”
He smiled faintly. That was the last I saw of Fred Rugen, the man who had permeated my life and daily routine.
***
Dr. Rugen is dead.
Still, morning came, and the sun rose. The world continued as usual, seemingly oblivious to someone's death. Employees went about their daily tasks, and beyond the window, the chimneys of industrial plants belched out black smoke in the distance. People, cars, and carriages on the street in front of the mansion busily headed somewhere. The scene was no different from yesterday.
The Liberts attended as mourners, keeping their identities a secret, and Dr. Rugen's funeral was held at a nearby church, presided over by Noah and me. The church bells tolled during the service, sounding slow and distant. Not many people attended the funeral. Barbara, dressed in a black dress, and Mary, the Viscount's daughter, whom I'd met several times before, came to offer me comfort.
Mr. Johannes Gunther, the old painter who had painted portraits of Noah and me, also came to visit after hearing the news. He had already experienced many separations and looked detached, as if accustomed to them. Daniel, holding the Duke of Hessen's hand, placed a white flower on Dr. Rugen's hand as he lay in the coffin. Even at a young age, Daniel understood the meaning of death.
“I liked my grandfather.”
Daniel lowered his head, holding back sobs and rubbing his eyes. He must have grown so much that he was struggling to hold back tears. I took out a handkerchief and wiped the tears that had trickled down his smooth cheeks.
“Yes, I did too.”
Daniel's tiny hand squeezed mine. His wet, crimson eyes looked at me comfortingly. I, too, was struggling to swallow something that was rising to my throat.
“Sister, let’s say goodbye to Grandpa together.”
I looked at the round back of Daniel's head, who was leading the way, holding my hand. The little boy stood looking down at Dr. Rugen, his voice choking with tears.
“Grandpa, it’s heavy to go up to heaven, so take only happy and good memories with you.”
I stood there blankly, my lips moving, unsure of what to say. I wondered if I had ever left him with a good memory. I recalled him grumbling, yet willingly sitting upright, posing for my portrait.
Even the fact that he looked closely at the picture he had drawn of himself and smiled briefly.
“You draw quite well.”
I wonder if I left a good memory for him.
Dr. Rugen was laid to rest in the nearby Ruisdel Cemetery. The fact that he could not return to his hometown even in death was a source of sorrow. As the black hearse carrying his coffin began to sink into the ground, covered with dirt, Dr. Libert covered his face and began to sob like a child.
“I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry.”
He constantly apologized, cried in despair, and cried. It was impossible to gauge his depth, but he seemed to be suffering and tormented, as if he were carrying considerable remorse.
Having seen the tombstone being erected, I raised my head and looked up at the gloomy sky. Next to me, I heard Noah's voice, no different from usual.
“I think it’s going to rain.”
A black mesh veil obscured my vision, obscuring Noah's expression as he stood there in his black suit and black tie. After the funeral, the Liberts disappeared. Noah wouldn't tell me anything about their whereabouts.
***
In the secret conference room located in the basement of the palace, Queen Grace II, military advisers, the Prime Minister, and other key ministers were present. Noah was also present.
“The Frogen Army is likely to pursue a machine gun-centric strategy, as they prioritize using light machine guns with the firepower of heavy machine guns.”
As Noah explained the blueprint, a uniformed staff member from the Supreme Staff Headquarters asked a question, rubbing his chin.
"Didn't Medea also complete the development of a lightweight heavy machine gun? Are you saying there's a need to develop a gun with superior performance through fewer parts and a simplified internal structure?"
"What I'm saying is that you need to prepare a strategy that appropriately deploys infantry with assault rifles and machine gunners. Machine gunners have limited movement due to barrel swaps and rapid fire control, which limits their field of vision. If the battlefield conditions aren't right, they'll struggle to exert their power."
"But if we were to compensate for that by hiding in bunkers or shelters and firing continuously, the infantry would be nothing more than cannon fodder. It would be difficult to even get close, and wouldn't that waste countless troops?"
“That’s why Her Majesty invested a lot of money in military aircraft such as strategic bombers and fighter transport aircraft.”
A small model airplane in Noah's hand traced a slow trajectory across the tactical board on the round mahogany table. He smiled leisurely.
“You can adopt a strategy of destroying them with aerial bombardment and then pushing forward with infantry with armored units at the forefront.”
General Harrington took off his cap and asked, running his gray-black hair back through his hair.
“Has there been no progress at the underground research lab at the Dakanhav base, which has been with us since the days of Duke Rotsilt?”
"If we can just find Dr. Rugen's grandson, it'll be complete. The bomber is also on a test flight."
Queen Grace, who had been sitting at the head table listening to their conversation, smiled elegantly and opened her mouth.
"In fact, the bomber cost more in budget, time, and manpower. The surviving Esatians believe it is the ark that will save the world. I have no doubt that the great powers, including our Medea, will, like the apostles, bring judgment upon the apostate nation of Frogen."
"Haha, they're a people who believe everything is God's will, so they possess a spirit of sacrifice and a sense of mission. Even though sin and judgment ultimately originate from humans."
As General Harrington chuckled, the Queen's smile gradually faded as she put down her teacup.
"Even if we follow the same path, our justifications are different. Just as Medea advocated peace and justice as a nation of gentlemen. Starting with the last anniversary, we negotiated an international peace treaty binding on all nations with the ambassadors of member states, and to date, we've organized a peace coalition of thirteen nations. Any violation of the treaty will be deemed a war criminal nation, and we will be permitted to suppress it with all force, regardless of international law. The Frogen Empire will soon break the international treaty."
Queen Grace II's cool green eyes sharpened.
“That is the beginning of a world war.”
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