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The call came from a little further away than the reporters'. Annette, who had been keeping her head down the entire time, unconsciously turned to look.
“...is! I... am...”
The woman's voice was once again drowned out by the commotion and the sound of the rain. The woman, who appeared to be an ordinary citizen, not a reporter, had a look of urgency and desperation on her face.
The woman pushed her way through the reporters, shouting something. The reporters holding their cameras looked at her, startled, one by one, at what she had said.
The murmur slowly died down. Everyone in the room turned their attention to the woman. She looked straight at Annette and opened her mouth.
“I am David Buckel’s sister!”
Until then, Annette had no idea who David Buckel was. It was the first time she'd heard the name.
“There is something I really want to tell Madame Valdemar!”
Annette's eyes widened slightly.
Me? Why?
There were countless rumors about Annette. But those were just a few of the many situations surrounding her, and only the reporters wanted to speak with Annette one-on-one.
The reporters began to buzz at the woman's words. A similar interest flashed through each of them. Cameras and notebooks turned toward the woman.
“David Buckel? Are you the sister of Mr. Buckel, the man who shot Madame Valdemar?”
“Is this your brother’s will? Why have you come to see Madam Valdemar?”
"This is Rose Schwartz from Graphic Design! Would you like to interview me separately?"
“Have you heard anything from Mr. David Buckel?”
“No, I!”
The woman's shrill scream instantly silenced the surroundings. She didn't even glance at the reporters—she stared at Annette from beginning to end.
For some reason, her heart pounded at the sight of those clear, sharp, and yet emotionally unreadable eyes.
The woman's lips opened slowly.
“...I would like to see Madame in person. I couldn't reach you, so I had no choice but to come here. I don't want to do any interviews with you.”
“Clear up the area quickly.”
Above, Heiner murmured to his attendant. His voice was as cold as usual, but it also carried a hint of anger.
“Then I will wait for your call, ma’am.”
Her last words were barely audible, drowned out by the reporters' questions. Heiner pulled Annette, who stood there dumbfounded, into his arms.
“Get on quickly.”
"Ah..."
"Hurry."
A firm voice fell.
Annette wanted to take a closer look at the woman's face, but she was forced to walk away by the force that was wrapping around her shoulders.
“Madame Valdemar, just answer once...”
“Do you know why...”
All sounds were a fraction of an inch from her ears, just a hum-like noise. Annette gasped for breath in the familiar scent of Heiner.
Her head was dizzy, but the face of a calm woman was strangely vivid on her retina.
‘Where have I seen that woman...?’
Annette thought absentmindedly, then realized it belatedly. She turned her head sharply and looked at the woman again. Her vision blurred and cleared repeatedly.
She's seen that woman somewhere. But beyond that vague certainty, she couldn't remember anything.
Was she a commoner? When did I see her? Where? Did she hold a grudge against me then? What on earth did I do to her?
If I don't remember it to this extent, we probably didn't know each other. I saw him a few times, maybe...
‘...Is my memory even accurate in the first place?’
Her tightly closed lips trembled slightly.
Annette had recently been plagued by forgetfulness. Her past of memorizing hundreds of pages of sheet music was a distant memory, and she was prone to making mistakes, unable to remember even the smallest details.
At this point, Annette began to doubt even her own feelings about that woman.
While her thoughts were racing, they arrived at the car. The attendant opened the car door. Even then, Annette and the woman didn't take their eyes off each other.
Heiner pushed her into the car. Then, as he got into the passenger seat next to her, her view was blocked. With a bang, the car door closed.
Reporters pressed against the windows. The car rolled down the road. The flashing lights faded away.
“...Who are you?”
“It is true that she is the sister of the arrested David Buckel.”
“That’s not what I’m asking.”
"Then?"
“So, related to me...”
Annette, who had been rambling, trailed off. Trying to explain something she wasn't even sure of would only make her look like an idiot.
"...No."
A heavy gaze settled on the back of Annette's head, which was lowered. He asked in a voice that at first sounded generous.
“What do you want to know?”
"Why..."
Her mouth dropped without her realizing it.
“Why did you come to me?”
Annette continued speaking blankly, her gaze fixed on the air and her hands on her lap.
"Why do you want to meet me in person? Without even telling the reporters..."
“It must be due to her younger brother's leniency. Don't dwell on it.”
“...is! I... am...”
The woman's voice was once again drowned out by the commotion and the sound of the rain. The woman, who appeared to be an ordinary citizen, not a reporter, had a look of urgency and desperation on her face.
The woman pushed her way through the reporters, shouting something. The reporters holding their cameras looked at her, startled, one by one, at what she had said.
The murmur slowly died down. Everyone in the room turned their attention to the woman. She looked straight at Annette and opened her mouth.
“I am David Buckel’s sister!”
Until then, Annette had no idea who David Buckel was. It was the first time she'd heard the name.
“There is something I really want to tell Madame Valdemar!”
Annette's eyes widened slightly.
Me? Why?
There were countless rumors about Annette. But those were just a few of the many situations surrounding her, and only the reporters wanted to speak with Annette one-on-one.
The reporters began to buzz at the woman's words. A similar interest flashed through each of them. Cameras and notebooks turned toward the woman.
“David Buckel? Are you the sister of Mr. Buckel, the man who shot Madame Valdemar?”
“Is this your brother’s will? Why have you come to see Madam Valdemar?”
"This is Rose Schwartz from Graphic Design! Would you like to interview me separately?"
“Have you heard anything from Mr. David Buckel?”
“No, I!”
The woman's shrill scream instantly silenced the surroundings. She didn't even glance at the reporters—she stared at Annette from beginning to end.
For some reason, her heart pounded at the sight of those clear, sharp, and yet emotionally unreadable eyes.
The woman's lips opened slowly.
“...I would like to see Madame in person. I couldn't reach you, so I had no choice but to come here. I don't want to do any interviews with you.”
“Clear up the area quickly.”
Above, Heiner murmured to his attendant. His voice was as cold as usual, but it also carried a hint of anger.
“Then I will wait for your call, ma’am.”
Her last words were barely audible, drowned out by the reporters' questions. Heiner pulled Annette, who stood there dumbfounded, into his arms.
“Get on quickly.”
"Ah..."
"Hurry."
A firm voice fell.
Annette wanted to take a closer look at the woman's face, but she was forced to walk away by the force that was wrapping around her shoulders.
“Madame Valdemar, just answer once...”
“Do you know why...”
All sounds were a fraction of an inch from her ears, just a hum-like noise. Annette gasped for breath in the familiar scent of Heiner.
Her head was dizzy, but the face of a calm woman was strangely vivid on her retina.
‘Where have I seen that woman...?’
Annette thought absentmindedly, then realized it belatedly. She turned her head sharply and looked at the woman again. Her vision blurred and cleared repeatedly.
She's seen that woman somewhere. But beyond that vague certainty, she couldn't remember anything.
Was she a commoner? When did I see her? Where? Did she hold a grudge against me then? What on earth did I do to her?
If I don't remember it to this extent, we probably didn't know each other. I saw him a few times, maybe...
‘...Is my memory even accurate in the first place?’
Her tightly closed lips trembled slightly.
Annette had recently been plagued by forgetfulness. Her past of memorizing hundreds of pages of sheet music was a distant memory, and she was prone to making mistakes, unable to remember even the smallest details.
At this point, Annette began to doubt even her own feelings about that woman.
While her thoughts were racing, they arrived at the car. The attendant opened the car door. Even then, Annette and the woman didn't take their eyes off each other.
Heiner pushed her into the car. Then, as he got into the passenger seat next to her, her view was blocked. With a bang, the car door closed.
Reporters pressed against the windows. The car rolled down the road. The flashing lights faded away.
“...Who are you?”
“It is true that she is the sister of the arrested David Buckel.”
“That’s not what I’m asking.”
"Then?"
“So, related to me...”
Annette, who had been rambling, trailed off. Trying to explain something she wasn't even sure of would only make her look like an idiot.
"...No."
A heavy gaze settled on the back of Annette's head, which was lowered. He asked in a voice that at first sounded generous.
“What do you want to know?”
"Why..."
Her mouth dropped without her realizing it.
“Why did you come to me?”
Annette continued speaking blankly, her gaze fixed on the air and her hands on her lap.
"Why do you want to meet me in person? Without even telling the reporters..."
“It must be due to her younger brother's leniency. Don't dwell on it.”
“I don’t think that’s the only reason. And... what do you mean by she couldn’t reach me?”
Annette turned to Heiner and spoke questioningly.
“You know something, right?”
“...She did send letters a few times.”
He surprisingly accepted it readily.
“But why didn’t it reach me?”
“I have decided that it is unnecessary to convey to you, the victim, and the patient the letter sent by the killer’s sister.”
“That’s for me to decide, Heiner.”
Annette didn't particularly believe his excuses. She assumed there had to be some other reason. After all, there was no way he'd consider her circumstances in the first place.
“Have you ever received a letter like this that hasn’t been delivered to me?”
Heiner didn't answer. Annette read the silence as a confirmation.
She wasn't particularly angry or annoyed. She just felt like something inside her chest was worn away. Annette fiddled with her handbag strap and spoke softly.
“I want to meet her.”
“Aren’t you going to ask any more questions about the letter?”
“It’s over now, so let’s move on.”
“Does that mean it won’t matter in the future?”
Annette's hand paused for a moment. She looked at him with a slightly puzzled expression. There was a sense of discomfort in his words.
‘In the future too...’
Does Heiner assume we have a future? What kind of future does he envision? Is he truly willing to risk everything to look forward to that future?
It somehow became funny.
“...That’s fine, but was her number or address in the letter? If not, please find out. Instead of the stolen letter.”
“Madam, there is absolutely no reason to meet─.”
“There is no reason to ask for permission.”
Because of her naturally soft-spoken nature, her words didn't sound at all resolute. At first glance, they sounded like appeals.
But Heiner nodded without further objection, although he still looked dissatisfied.
“...We will take action. However, your personal safety will be protected.”
Annette had expected that, so she accepted it. For some unknown reason, he wasn't as overbearing as before.
Annette turned her head as if she had accepted the answer. A single leaf swept past the car window. The trees, nearly defoliated, had become bare.
***
The woman's name was Katrin Groth.
Katrin lived with her husband for less than six months, selling fruit at 23 Western Road.
Even after hearing her name and address, Annette couldn't recall who she was. It was a stranger's name, and the address was completely unfamiliar.
Annette slowly dialed the telephone exchange, holding a note in one hand. A phone number was written on the note.
After connecting to the switchboard, a call came in. Annette held the phone anxiously and swallowed. After a long ring, the call connected.
[Yes, this is Brunner Groth.]
“...Are you Katrine’s husband?”
[Yes, but who are you?]
For some reason, Annette was speechless when asked who she was. After a brief silence, she hesitantly opened her mouth.
"Excuse me, could you please tell Mrs. Groth... that she should come to my house tomorrow or the day after. I've given her permission to enter, so just give her my name... If you tell her that, she'll understand."
A strange tension hung in the air after the period. The other person, perhaps guessing her identity, remained silent for a moment.
As a husband, he couldn't have been unaware of what was happening to his wife and her brother. Annette was on high alert, unable to know what they had been told.
Soon, a businesslike reply came.
[... I understand. I will tell Katrine.]
"Thank you."
Annette waited for the other person to hang up first, but the call remained silent. Unable to bear it any longer, she hung up first.
Silence descended with a clang. Annette stood there for a long time, unable to put her hand off the receiver.
In fact, there was no need to seek out Katrine first. She was unlikely to have any feelings for Annette, and as Heiner had said, it was likely she was simply seeking leniency.
Yet, strangely, Annette felt compelled to listen to her story.
What happened, why did it happen, what feelings did you have, what did you want to say, and what should you say?
Perhaps it was the first and last opportunity to face the past.
Even if it means hurting yourself...
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