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Annette hasn't woken up for days.
In a dimly lit corner of the room, Heiner sat blankly, his dark gray eyes fixed on the face of the woman lying down.
He was afraid her pale, closed eyes would never open. He knew in his head that nothing would change even if he stayed like this, but his body refused to listen.
Heiner ran a hand down his face, which had become rough from lack of sleep. His usually neat demeanor was now disheveled.
“Fortunately, the wound isn’t deep enough to cause death.”
The doctor said so. Slitting the wrists was unlikely to lead to death in the first place. Heiner knew that.
But Annette didn't wake up. There was no need to say anything like, "She won't die like that." She didn't wake up. That was the only conclusion left.
The doctor gave several reasons for this.
First of all, the aftereffects of the previous gunshot wound and miscarriage hadn't fully healed. Even then, she needed more time to recover, and this incident, combined with the previous incident, left her completely weakened.
He also said that although it wasn't 'death-threatening', the wound itself was quite deep, so she went into shock due to excessive bleeding.
Lastly, he said it could be a matter of the patient's own will.
It could be because the patient doesn't want to wake up.
“Annette.”
Heiner spoke in a hoarse voice.
“Annette Valdemar.”
It was a name that still felt unfamiliar, even though he'd pronounced it countless times. He let out a short laugh and slowly lowered his head.
“It doesn’t make sense what you’re doing. It doesn’t make sense that you would do something like that.”
Heiner couldn't bear to look at her face, so he lowered his gaze to the floor and continued speaking slowly.
“You’re afraid of a lot of things. You’re afraid of the dark, you’re afraid of heights... You’re afraid of water... You’re afraid of the sight of blood...”
A lump formed in his throat. Heiner gritted his teeth.
She was a woman full of fears. A timid and weak woman. A woman raised that way, completely unaware of true misfortune and fear.
Even now, that thought remains unchanged. Annette's decision to die wasn't because she suddenly found the courage to die.
But now, life was more terrible than death.
'It turned out just as you wanted.'
A faint whisper echoed in his ear.
'That woman is so unhappy that she deserves to die. Just as you wished.'
That's right. That's right. He wished that the woman, who had lived a life filled with all sorts of beautiful and wonderful things, would be terribly unhappy at least once. Just like he had been.
'There were times when I wished I could just die. I'd feel better if I just disappeared from the world.'
At one point, he even wished for that. He considered simply killing her several times. But in the end, he couldn't.
In the end, it didn't work out that way.
But it turned out like this.
His large torso slowly crumpled onto the bed. He bowed his head as if collapsing, burying his face in his hands.
He thinks and reflects. He looks back and reflects. Where did I go wrong? What should I have done? What on earth am I hoping for?
At the end of the inconclusive question, he muttered dangerously.
No.
At least it shouldn't be like this.
You can't leave me like this.
This is not what I wanted.
What I wanted was...
His thoughts suddenly stopped, as if something had broken in his head. The whispers had vanished, leaving only a dull ringing in his ears.
Heiner buried his face in his hands and remained motionless for a long time.
News of Annette's suicide attempt was widely reported in the newspapers. The day of the attempt, the entire residence was in chaos, and the rumor spread quickly before Heiner could react.
The capital was abuzz with this story. While some sympathized, the prevailing opinion was that it was merely a show to garner attention and sympathy.
The area in front of the official residence was bustling with reporters from morning. Standing by the window, Heiner looked down at them with completely sunken eyes.
He had always valued freedom of the press, but now he felt like shooting a gun at the reporters who had swarmed him like a pack of dogs.
At Heiner's ominous expression, the butler hesitated for a moment and then cautiously approached.
“Commander, Madam’s guest has come to visit... What should we do?”
Heiner replied, his gaze still fixed outside.
“Sending them back because she's not in a position to meet them right now.”
“Well, if he can’t see Madam, he’d like to see you, Commander...”
“Who are you?”
"This is Ansgar Stetter. He came to see you last time."
“Just send him back...”
Heiner paused, about to tell him to send him back. He swallowed a silent sigh.
Ansgar Stetter was one of the people he most wanted to meet. But it was better to resolve the issue now than to create a fuss after Annette woke up.
“...Please come into the main reception room.”
The butler bowed his head and turned away. Heiner gazed at his aged figure for a moment. He was the eldest son of a family that had served as butler to the Count's family for generations.
After the revolution, many who worked for noble families lost their jobs. The current chief butler of the official residence was one of them.
Heiner, a leading figure in the revolution, created jobs in businesses confiscated from the nobility and in newly established public institutions. He also gave priority to those previously employed by noble families.
But that wasn't enough. Other problems arose. Not everything about the revolution could be good.
All responsibility and obligation fell upon Heiner, who had become a hero. At times, he wanted to throw everything away. But he couldn't.
It wasn't about the cause? Justice? Conviction? Heiner knew such grand words didn't suit him.
It was only because of her.
Because of low self-esteem and desire for revenge.
Heiner's gray eyes darkened. On the first floor, reporters were still buzzing. He gripped the window frame tightly, then quickly relaxed his grip.
As soon as Ansgar saw Heiner, he grabbed him by the collar.
“You son of a bitch...!”
Heiner stood silently, even though he could have easily shaken him off. Ansgar growled.
"Do you feel better now? You feel better now that you've put Annette through that."
“...”
“A heartless, pitiless piece of human scum.”
“...”
"Why do you feel offended when you hear such words from a scumbag noble? Does it make you feel dirty? Wasn't it so much fun trampling on the noble families?"
“...”
“Say something, you bastard.”
“Your mouth has gotten rougher.”
Heiner shook Ansgar's hand off and straightened his collar. The hand that Ansgar had shaken off with such ease that the nape of his neck turned red.
Although not as noble as Annette, Ansgar Stetter was a worthy groom, a paragon of aristocracy. However, as Annette had changed over the years, so had he.
Heiner took a step back from him and asked dryly.
“Why did you come?”
“I came here because I couldn’t entrust Annette’s life to a brat like you. Why?”
“...”
"You could take this opportunity to kill Annette, right? If she dies, you're the culprit."
“If I were going to kill her, I should have killed her a long time ago.”
Heiner snickered softly. Just as Ansgar, who thought he was being mocked, was about to say something, Heiner opened his mouth, his face completely devoid of any trace of laughter.
“So, you’re going to take her?”
"Yes."
“Where to, Frances?”
"Yes."
“Do you think I would hand Annette over to the restoration forces?”
“So you’re going to live like this for the rest of your life without getting divorced?”
“...”
"It's a loss for you, too, keeping Annette with you. And you know that even if I take her to Frances, there's absolutely no threat."
That wasn't a wrong statement. At least in present-day Padania, the restorationist forces were powerless. Perhaps it would be different if they established their own dynasty.
And to do that, Annette was needed. She was of royal blood, the highest-ranking member of the surviving Old Nobles, and young enough to produce a new generation.
In other words, Annette's descendants could continue the royal line.
'...Only on the surface.'
Annette's infertility was unknown to the outside world. It meant she no longer held the utility value the Restorationists desired.
If Ansgar found out, would he refuse to take her? It was unclear.
Heiner held his breath for a moment, then exhaled slowly and said.
“I can’t hand her over.”
"...Ha."
Ansgar shook his head with a look of disbelief on his face.
“Isn’t that enough? How much more... how much more miserable do you plan to make Annette?”
Heiner couldn't answer. Even he didn't know the answer. He slowly closed his eyes and opened them. For a moment, a bloody scene flashed across his eyelids.
That woman can't leave me.
The sentence lingered in his mind like a categorical imperative, its context stripped away. Heiner repeated it, as if brainwashing himself.
That woman... can’t leave me.
In a dimly lit corner of the room, Heiner sat blankly, his dark gray eyes fixed on the face of the woman lying down.
He was afraid her pale, closed eyes would never open. He knew in his head that nothing would change even if he stayed like this, but his body refused to listen.
Heiner ran a hand down his face, which had become rough from lack of sleep. His usually neat demeanor was now disheveled.
“Fortunately, the wound isn’t deep enough to cause death.”
The doctor said so. Slitting the wrists was unlikely to lead to death in the first place. Heiner knew that.
But Annette didn't wake up. There was no need to say anything like, "She won't die like that." She didn't wake up. That was the only conclusion left.
The doctor gave several reasons for this.
First of all, the aftereffects of the previous gunshot wound and miscarriage hadn't fully healed. Even then, she needed more time to recover, and this incident, combined with the previous incident, left her completely weakened.
He also said that although it wasn't 'death-threatening', the wound itself was quite deep, so she went into shock due to excessive bleeding.
Lastly, he said it could be a matter of the patient's own will.
It could be because the patient doesn't want to wake up.
“Annette.”
Heiner spoke in a hoarse voice.
“Annette Valdemar.”
It was a name that still felt unfamiliar, even though he'd pronounced it countless times. He let out a short laugh and slowly lowered his head.
“It doesn’t make sense what you’re doing. It doesn’t make sense that you would do something like that.”
Heiner couldn't bear to look at her face, so he lowered his gaze to the floor and continued speaking slowly.
“You’re afraid of a lot of things. You’re afraid of the dark, you’re afraid of heights... You’re afraid of water... You’re afraid of the sight of blood...”
A lump formed in his throat. Heiner gritted his teeth.
She was a woman full of fears. A timid and weak woman. A woman raised that way, completely unaware of true misfortune and fear.
Even now, that thought remains unchanged. Annette's decision to die wasn't because she suddenly found the courage to die.
But now, life was more terrible than death.
'It turned out just as you wanted.'
A faint whisper echoed in his ear.
'That woman is so unhappy that she deserves to die. Just as you wished.'
That's right. That's right. He wished that the woman, who had lived a life filled with all sorts of beautiful and wonderful things, would be terribly unhappy at least once. Just like he had been.
'There were times when I wished I could just die. I'd feel better if I just disappeared from the world.'
At one point, he even wished for that. He considered simply killing her several times. But in the end, he couldn't.
In the end, it didn't work out that way.
But it turned out like this.
His large torso slowly crumpled onto the bed. He bowed his head as if collapsing, burying his face in his hands.
He thinks and reflects. He looks back and reflects. Where did I go wrong? What should I have done? What on earth am I hoping for?
At the end of the inconclusive question, he muttered dangerously.
No.
At least it shouldn't be like this.
You can't leave me like this.
This is not what I wanted.
What I wanted was...
His thoughts suddenly stopped, as if something had broken in his head. The whispers had vanished, leaving only a dull ringing in his ears.
Heiner buried his face in his hands and remained motionless for a long time.
***
News of Annette's suicide attempt was widely reported in the newspapers. The day of the attempt, the entire residence was in chaos, and the rumor spread quickly before Heiner could react.
The capital was abuzz with this story. While some sympathized, the prevailing opinion was that it was merely a show to garner attention and sympathy.
The area in front of the official residence was bustling with reporters from morning. Standing by the window, Heiner looked down at them with completely sunken eyes.
He had always valued freedom of the press, but now he felt like shooting a gun at the reporters who had swarmed him like a pack of dogs.
At Heiner's ominous expression, the butler hesitated for a moment and then cautiously approached.
“Commander, Madam’s guest has come to visit... What should we do?”
Heiner replied, his gaze still fixed outside.
“Sending them back because she's not in a position to meet them right now.”
“Well, if he can’t see Madam, he’d like to see you, Commander...”
“Who are you?”
"This is Ansgar Stetter. He came to see you last time."
“Just send him back...”
Heiner paused, about to tell him to send him back. He swallowed a silent sigh.
Ansgar Stetter was one of the people he most wanted to meet. But it was better to resolve the issue now than to create a fuss after Annette woke up.
“...Please come into the main reception room.”
The butler bowed his head and turned away. Heiner gazed at his aged figure for a moment. He was the eldest son of a family that had served as butler to the Count's family for generations.
After the revolution, many who worked for noble families lost their jobs. The current chief butler of the official residence was one of them.
Heiner, a leading figure in the revolution, created jobs in businesses confiscated from the nobility and in newly established public institutions. He also gave priority to those previously employed by noble families.
But that wasn't enough. Other problems arose. Not everything about the revolution could be good.
All responsibility and obligation fell upon Heiner, who had become a hero. At times, he wanted to throw everything away. But he couldn't.
It wasn't about the cause? Justice? Conviction? Heiner knew such grand words didn't suit him.
It was only because of her.
Because of low self-esteem and desire for revenge.
Heiner's gray eyes darkened. On the first floor, reporters were still buzzing. He gripped the window frame tightly, then quickly relaxed his grip.
***
As soon as Ansgar saw Heiner, he grabbed him by the collar.
“You son of a bitch...!”
Heiner stood silently, even though he could have easily shaken him off. Ansgar growled.
"Do you feel better now? You feel better now that you've put Annette through that."
“...”
“A heartless, pitiless piece of human scum.”
“...”
"Why do you feel offended when you hear such words from a scumbag noble? Does it make you feel dirty? Wasn't it so much fun trampling on the noble families?"
“...”
“Say something, you bastard.”
“Your mouth has gotten rougher.”
Heiner shook Ansgar's hand off and straightened his collar. The hand that Ansgar had shaken off with such ease that the nape of his neck turned red.
Although not as noble as Annette, Ansgar Stetter was a worthy groom, a paragon of aristocracy. However, as Annette had changed over the years, so had he.
Heiner took a step back from him and asked dryly.
“Why did you come?”
“I came here because I couldn’t entrust Annette’s life to a brat like you. Why?”
“...”
"You could take this opportunity to kill Annette, right? If she dies, you're the culprit."
“If I were going to kill her, I should have killed her a long time ago.”
Heiner snickered softly. Just as Ansgar, who thought he was being mocked, was about to say something, Heiner opened his mouth, his face completely devoid of any trace of laughter.
“So, you’re going to take her?”
"Yes."
“Where to, Frances?”
"Yes."
“Do you think I would hand Annette over to the restoration forces?”
“So you’re going to live like this for the rest of your life without getting divorced?”
“...”
"It's a loss for you, too, keeping Annette with you. And you know that even if I take her to Frances, there's absolutely no threat."
That wasn't a wrong statement. At least in present-day Padania, the restorationist forces were powerless. Perhaps it would be different if they established their own dynasty.
And to do that, Annette was needed. She was of royal blood, the highest-ranking member of the surviving Old Nobles, and young enough to produce a new generation.
In other words, Annette's descendants could continue the royal line.
'...Only on the surface.'
Annette's infertility was unknown to the outside world. It meant she no longer held the utility value the Restorationists desired.
If Ansgar found out, would he refuse to take her? It was unclear.
'You're not wrong, but Ansgar has a point.'
“I can’t hand her over.”
"...Ha."
Ansgar shook his head with a look of disbelief on his face.
“Isn’t that enough? How much more... how much more miserable do you plan to make Annette?”
Heiner couldn't answer. Even he didn't know the answer. He slowly closed his eyes and opened them. For a moment, a bloody scene flashed across his eyelids.
That woman can't leave me.
The sentence lingered in his mind like a categorical imperative, its context stripped away. Heiner repeated it, as if brainwashing himself.
That woman... can’t leave me.
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