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Heiner was locked in solitary confinement again. The wound on his chest from the fall festered and burst repeatedly.
He was in terrible pain all night. His entire body felt as if it were burning hot and painful. He struggled to breathe, panting, and at one point, he felt so cold that he hugged himself awkwardly and shivered.
It felt like a very long time had passed. One day, the guards dragged him back to the interrogation room. Someone was sitting across from him at the desk. It was Anne.
“...”
Heiner was speechless before her appearance. It was a truly horrific sight. Without a mirror, he couldn't tell, but he probably wasn't much different.
Anne, who had been staring at the desk for a long time, finally spoke. Her dry voice scraped against her throat.
“Let’s talk.”
"...What?"
Heiner asked her again, as if he doubted what he had heard. Anne spoke again.
"Let's just blow it. What's the point of holding on like this? What the... what the heck is all this?"
“What are you talking about? Did the guard, ugh, threaten you?”
“Persuasion.”
"Just because they said that doesn't mean they'll let it go? Even if we blow everything, do you think they'll, uh, let us live?"
Heiner's voice was laced with anger. But Anne continued speaking without blinking.
“...”
“That’s what I want. Just kill me quickly.”
Anne's red, swollen eyes were empty and unfocused. Heiner stared at her, speechless. Anne now seemed like a completely different person.
“You... why all of a sudden...”
Like any trainee, Anne had a strong sense of loyalty to her country. It was incomprehensible why she would suddenly say something like this. No matter how brutal the torture—
“Heiner, who do you think reported us?”
“...I don’t know.”
“It’s Jackson.”
“...”
"The interrogator told me. That's when the puzzle really clicked. That bastard was a spy from the start. ...Isn't that funny? He was the one who saved my life in the previous operation, and he was Frances's spy."
Heiner opened his mouth, then closed it again. A chill ran down the back of his neck. In fact, perhaps, just a little bit... he had expected it. He just couldn't admit it.
Anne laughed, her voice cracking.
"I'm not sure anymore. Jackson was also my training classmate. So, he was brought in as a spy from a young age? To be trained as a spy from such a young age... How much brainwashing must he have been under at Frances, from such a young age?"
“...”
“I wonder if Jackson thought of us the same way we thought of him as some fucking spy for Frances.”
“...”
“I wonder what on earth this is all about... Heiner, I don’t know what’s right anymore...”
Tears fell from Anne's eyes. Heiner stared blankly at her. She bowed her head and sobbed softly.
Heiner slowly lowered his gaze. The hand resting on his leg was trembling. He tried to clench his fist, but the strength wouldn't come.
He clasped his hands together as if praying.
In the end, Heiner said nothing.
While Anne and her colleagues' goal was simply to die quickly, Heiner's was different. His goal was to live.
That's why he said nothing.
He couldn't tell how much time had passed. In the darkness, consumed by pain and loneliness, Heiner thought of her again and again.
Sometimes he missed Annette, sometimes he admired her, sometimes he resented her, and sometimes he hated her.
Thoughts that could not be expressed spread out in a disjointed manner.
Annette Rosenberg.
You have no idea what's going on. You just sit elegantly at the piano and play whatever you like.
You, the Marquis' daughter, have no idea why I am enduring these things.
He knew it was a twisted thought. But his mind was deformed from the start, and this confined space and harsh circumstances were driving him into a swamp.
Even though Heiner had resented and hated her so much, he soon found himself missing her again.
Annette Rosenberg.
No. It's not your fault. You were just born, so precious. It's just that no one ever told you these things.
If you knew, you'd think something was wrong with this world. You'd feel sorry. You'd be angry.
Your soul will be as noble and pure as your playing...
Missing, yearning, resenting, hating, missing again, yearning, resenting, hating... these thoughts repeated endlessly. He felt like he was going crazy.
One day, war broke out in Frances. It was a war waged by Ratland, which demanded independence from France.
The tide of war was turning in Ratland's favor. Prisons and interrogation centers were captured, and political and ideological prisoners held by the Labour Party were released.
Taking advantage of the confusion, Heiner and several surviving colleagues fled, stealing Frances's confidential information. He also burned the records his colleagues had leaked, but it wasn't perfect.
During the process, two of his colleagues, whose condition was critical, were left behind. Deon was among them. Heiner eliminated them according to the rules. He couldn't let them fall back into Frances's hands.
Ultimately, only Heiner and Anne survived, excluding Jackson.
As they reached the border, Heiner readied his pistol and turned around. Anne was chasing him, breathing heavily.
“Huh, huh... why?”
Anne wiped the sweat dripping down her face and looked at him quizzically. Heiner raised his gun without a word. Anne's hand, wiping the sweat from her forehead, faltered.
The air grew cool. The gun barrel pointed at her remained motionless. Anne slowly lowered her hand, slowly closing her eyes before opening them again.
The pistol fell from Anne's hand. She muttered with a small laugh.
“Yeah, well....”
“...”
“Maybe it’s right to die here.”
Anne had revealed much to Frances. There might still be records left unburned. If the Marquis found out, he wouldn't die peacefully anyway.
Even if it weren't for this reason, Anne was a traitor who leaked state secrets.
Traitors will be punished.
No regrets are left behind.
It was a phrase he learned so deeply that it was ingrained in his brain. Anne, a fellow trainee, knew it too. That's why she spoke that way.
Not questioning the system and its orders. That was their way.
Bang.
Gunshots echoed through the forest.
Blood spurted from Anne's head. Her body, which had seemed frozen for a moment, soon collapsed.
That moment seemed to Heiner very slow, like a series of images being captured in rapid succession.
Thud. Her body, which had collapsed limply, no longer felt weight. The blood flowing from her head stained the grass red.
Heiner stood still, the trigger still in his hand. His posture remained unchanged, but unlike before, the muzzle of the gun was shaking wildly.
He lowered his gun with a creaking sound like a broken doll. His vision blurred for a moment, then cleared again.
Heiner staggered and covered his face with one hand. His mind was spinning. Through his fingers, his vision blurred, and he glimpsed Anne's fallen body.
Why...
Why did you kill her?
The reason didn't quite come to mind. His mind was foggy, as if in a fog. He ruminated for a while, then stammered out his thoughts.
By leaking state secrets.
Because she's a traitor.
Because traitors must be punished.
But what had Anne betrayed? A small question suddenly struck him. The answer came soon after.
The motherland.
Her homeland.
But was that really her homeland?
Heiner wiped his face with a trembling hand. The drops of blood from others that had been dotting his face were erased.
Whose homeland is Padania?
Thoughts jumbled together randomly. But they all ultimately pointed to some vague truth. Anne's words echoed like tinnitus.
“I wonder what all this is about...”
What is all this?
“Heiner, I don’t know what’s right anymore...”
What is right and what is wrong?
His heart pounded. He felt as if Anne would rise and denounce him at any moment. It was a feeling he had never felt before, despite the countless people he had killed.
Heiner slowly backed away. The grass beneath his feet felt heavy and sticky.
He turned around and ran away.
The forest made a dreary sound in the wind. In his blurred vision, the entire forest appeared red. Heiner ran through the red grass. He ran and ran.
Even though his breath was gasping for breath, the pain was consuming his injured body, and the screams of his comrades and the smell of blood were following him, he kept running.
Still, he had to live.
Because he had to return alive.
“Heiner, what is precious to you?”
To where his precious things are...
He was in terrible pain all night. His entire body felt as if it were burning hot and painful. He struggled to breathe, panting, and at one point, he felt so cold that he hugged himself awkwardly and shivered.
It felt like a very long time had passed. One day, the guards dragged him back to the interrogation room. Someone was sitting across from him at the desk. It was Anne.
“...”
Heiner was speechless before her appearance. It was a truly horrific sight. Without a mirror, he couldn't tell, but he probably wasn't much different.
Anne, who had been staring at the desk for a long time, finally spoke. Her dry voice scraped against her throat.
“Let’s talk.”
"...What?"
Heiner asked her again, as if he doubted what he had heard. Anne spoke again.
"Let's just blow it. What's the point of holding on like this? What the... what the heck is all this?"
“What are you talking about? Did the guard, ugh, threaten you?”
“Persuasion.”
"Just because they said that doesn't mean they'll let it go? Even if we blow everything, do you think they'll, uh, let us live?"
Heiner's voice was laced with anger. But Anne continued speaking without blinking.
“No, they won't let me live.”
“That’s what I want. Just kill me quickly.”
Anne's red, swollen eyes were empty and unfocused. Heiner stared at her, speechless. Anne now seemed like a completely different person.
“You... why all of a sudden...”
Like any trainee, Anne had a strong sense of loyalty to her country. It was incomprehensible why she would suddenly say something like this. No matter how brutal the torture—
“Heiner, who do you think reported us?”
“...I don’t know.”
“It’s Jackson.”
“...”
"The interrogator told me. That's when the puzzle really clicked. That bastard was a spy from the start. ...Isn't that funny? He was the one who saved my life in the previous operation, and he was Frances's spy."
Heiner opened his mouth, then closed it again. A chill ran down the back of his neck. In fact, perhaps, just a little bit... he had expected it. He just couldn't admit it.
Anne laughed, her voice cracking.
"I'm not sure anymore. Jackson was also my training classmate. So, he was brought in as a spy from a young age? To be trained as a spy from such a young age... How much brainwashing must he have been under at Frances, from such a young age?"
“...”
“I wonder if Jackson thought of us the same way we thought of him as some fucking spy for Frances.”
“...”
“I wonder what on earth this is all about... Heiner, I don’t know what’s right anymore...”
Tears fell from Anne's eyes. Heiner stared blankly at her. She bowed her head and sobbed softly.
Heiner slowly lowered his gaze. The hand resting on his leg was trembling. He tried to clench his fist, but the strength wouldn't come.
He clasped his hands together as if praying.
***
In the end, Heiner said nothing.
While Anne and her colleagues' goal was simply to die quickly, Heiner's was different. His goal was to live.
That's why he said nothing.
He couldn't tell how much time had passed. In the darkness, consumed by pain and loneliness, Heiner thought of her again and again.
Sometimes he missed Annette, sometimes he admired her, sometimes he resented her, and sometimes he hated her.
Thoughts that could not be expressed spread out in a disjointed manner.
Annette Rosenberg.
You have no idea what's going on. You just sit elegantly at the piano and play whatever you like.
You, the Marquis' daughter, have no idea why I am enduring these things.
He knew it was a twisted thought. But his mind was deformed from the start, and this confined space and harsh circumstances were driving him into a swamp.
Even though Heiner had resented and hated her so much, he soon found himself missing her again.
Annette Rosenberg.
No. It's not your fault. You were just born, so precious. It's just that no one ever told you these things.
If you knew, you'd think something was wrong with this world. You'd feel sorry. You'd be angry.
Your soul will be as noble and pure as your playing...
Missing, yearning, resenting, hating, missing again, yearning, resenting, hating... these thoughts repeated endlessly. He felt like he was going crazy.
One day, war broke out in Frances. It was a war waged by Ratland, which demanded independence from France.
The tide of war was turning in Ratland's favor. Prisons and interrogation centers were captured, and political and ideological prisoners held by the Labour Party were released.
Taking advantage of the confusion, Heiner and several surviving colleagues fled, stealing Frances's confidential information. He also burned the records his colleagues had leaked, but it wasn't perfect.
During the process, two of his colleagues, whose condition was critical, were left behind. Deon was among them. Heiner eliminated them according to the rules. He couldn't let them fall back into Frances's hands.
Ultimately, only Heiner and Anne survived, excluding Jackson.
As they reached the border, Heiner readied his pistol and turned around. Anne was chasing him, breathing heavily.
“Huh, huh... why?”
Anne wiped the sweat dripping down her face and looked at him quizzically. Heiner raised his gun without a word. Anne's hand, wiping the sweat from her forehead, faltered.
The air grew cool. The gun barrel pointed at her remained motionless. Anne slowly lowered her hand, slowly closing her eyes before opening them again.
The pistol fell from Anne's hand. She muttered with a small laugh.
“Yeah, well....”
“...”
“Maybe it’s right to die here.”
Anne had revealed much to Frances. There might still be records left unburned. If the Marquis found out, he wouldn't die peacefully anyway.
Even if it weren't for this reason, Anne was a traitor who leaked state secrets.
Traitors will be punished.
No regrets are left behind.
It was a phrase he learned so deeply that it was ingrained in his brain. Anne, a fellow trainee, knew it too. That's why she spoke that way.
Not questioning the system and its orders. That was their way.
Bang.
Gunshots echoed through the forest.
Blood spurted from Anne's head. Her body, which had seemed frozen for a moment, soon collapsed.
That moment seemed to Heiner very slow, like a series of images being captured in rapid succession.
Thud. Her body, which had collapsed limply, no longer felt weight. The blood flowing from her head stained the grass red.
Heiner stood still, the trigger still in his hand. His posture remained unchanged, but unlike before, the muzzle of the gun was shaking wildly.
He lowered his gun with a creaking sound like a broken doll. His vision blurred for a moment, then cleared again.
Heiner staggered and covered his face with one hand. His mind was spinning. Through his fingers, his vision blurred, and he glimpsed Anne's fallen body.
Why...
Why did you kill her?
The reason didn't quite come to mind. His mind was foggy, as if in a fog. He ruminated for a while, then stammered out his thoughts.
By leaking state secrets.
Because she's a traitor.
Because traitors must be punished.
But what had Anne betrayed? A small question suddenly struck him. The answer came soon after.
The motherland.
Her homeland.
But was that really her homeland?
Heiner wiped his face with a trembling hand. The drops of blood from others that had been dotting his face were erased.
Whose homeland is Padania?
Thoughts jumbled together randomly. But they all ultimately pointed to some vague truth. Anne's words echoed like tinnitus.
“I wonder what all this is about...”
What is all this?
“Heiner, I don’t know what’s right anymore...”
What is right and what is wrong?
His heart pounded. He felt as if Anne would rise and denounce him at any moment. It was a feeling he had never felt before, despite the countless people he had killed.
Heiner slowly backed away. The grass beneath his feet felt heavy and sticky.
He turned around and ran away.
The forest made a dreary sound in the wind. In his blurred vision, the entire forest appeared red. Heiner ran through the red grass. He ran and ran.
Even though his breath was gasping for breath, the pain was consuming his injured body, and the screams of his comrades and the smell of blood were following him, he kept running.
Still, he had to live.
Because he had to return alive.
“Heiner, what is precious to you?”
To where his precious things are...
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