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Annette left the residence and stood there, staring blankly at the sky. It was a fairly sunny day. The snow that had fallen yesterday had already melted.
She turned around, took a glance at the official residence, and then took a step forward. Annette walked wherever her feet took her. She didn't care where she ended up.
“If you divorce me, you'll say you'll live.”
Frankly, Annette had no intention of keeping her promise to him. It wasn't that she had deliberately lied. She simply hadn't given it much thought.
'Should I die?'
What did it matter whether Heiner was angry, resentful, or sad after his death? After all, they were divorced and now strangers.
It wasn't much different before the divorce.
Annette, who was walking aimlessly, found a park bench. She placed her bag on the bench and sat down for a moment.
The air was cold, but the sunlight was warm. Annette lowered her head; her eyes were dazzled. Her gloved hand caught her eye. The brooch and Ansgar's business card were still clutched in her hand.
'What should I do now?'
Annette stared blankly at the marquise-cut leaf-shaped brooch she had once loved.
Even when she wanted to die, she couldn't figure out how to do it. It was as if she forgotten how to think.
Suddenly, a shadow appeared above her head. Annette slowly raised her head.
Ah. Annette's mouth opened slightly as she saw the other person's face. Light returned to her pupils, which had been cloudy and unfocused.
Heiner stood by the window, watching the small figure walk away. Even after she disappeared, he stood there for a long time.
The sun slowly set. His shadow on the wall grew longer.
'Where did it go wrong?'
Heiner thought blankly.
At first, it was just a feeling of longing. He just wanted to touch her, even just once. He didn't even dare to desire her.
So, he became the Marquis' dog, desperately trying to get a higher position, gain more power, and become a more "decent" person.
So, to get a little closer to her.
She wouldn't pay attention to a soldier who was born an orphan and whose only skill was killing people...
Heiner looked down at his hand on the windowsill. The scent of blood, long since washed away, seemed to still linger. He clenched his fist.
If you're going to judge right from wrong, I know I'm a more vile and despicable human being than you. I know I'm the greater sinner, having killed countless people and driven my comrades to their deaths.
I didn't want to admit it.
I wanted to put all the blame on that woman.
You're so happy with the position I created for you by rolling in the mud. You have no idea whose blood and whose sacrifice it is.
The hardest and saddest thing in your life is not improving your piano skills; that's all.
So I...
That's why I hated you.
A wave of all sorts of filthy, inferior emotions flooded his chest. Heiner's body slowly collapsed. He had struggled so hard for that one woman, and this was what he ended up with.
Heiner clutched his head with both hands. His breath came in gasps. Finally, unable to hold it in, he spat it out. The man, curled up in a corner, sobbed silently.
The sound of the piano came from afar, carried by the wind.
He cried for a very long time.
AU 703, Sutherland Island.
Puck.
She turned around, took a glance at the official residence, and then took a step forward. Annette walked wherever her feet took her. She didn't care where she ended up.
“If you divorce me, you'll say you'll live.”
Frankly, Annette had no intention of keeping her promise to him. It wasn't that she had deliberately lied. She simply hadn't given it much thought.
'Should I die?'
What did it matter whether Heiner was angry, resentful, or sad after his death? After all, they were divorced and now strangers.
It wasn't much different before the divorce.
Annette, who was walking aimlessly, found a park bench. She placed her bag on the bench and sat down for a moment.
The air was cold, but the sunlight was warm. Annette lowered her head; her eyes were dazzled. Her gloved hand caught her eye. The brooch and Ansgar's business card were still clutched in her hand.
'What should I do now?'
Annette stared blankly at the marquise-cut leaf-shaped brooch she had once loved.
Even when she wanted to die, she couldn't figure out how to do it. It was as if she forgotten how to think.
Suddenly, a shadow appeared above her head. Annette slowly raised her head.
Ah. Annette's mouth opened slightly as she saw the other person's face. Light returned to her pupils, which had been cloudy and unfocused.
***
Heiner stood by the window, watching the small figure walk away. Even after she disappeared, he stood there for a long time.
The sun slowly set. His shadow on the wall grew longer.
'Where did it go wrong?'
Heiner thought blankly.
At first, it was just a feeling of longing. He just wanted to touch her, even just once. He didn't even dare to desire her.
So, he became the Marquis' dog, desperately trying to get a higher position, gain more power, and become a more "decent" person.
So, to get a little closer to her.
She wouldn't pay attention to a soldier who was born an orphan and whose only skill was killing people...
Heiner looked down at his hand on the windowsill. The scent of blood, long since washed away, seemed to still linger. He clenched his fist.
If you're going to judge right from wrong, I know I'm a more vile and despicable human being than you. I know I'm the greater sinner, having killed countless people and driven my comrades to their deaths.
I didn't want to admit it.
I wanted to put all the blame on that woman.
You're so happy with the position I created for you by rolling in the mud. You have no idea whose blood and whose sacrifice it is.
The hardest and saddest thing in your life is not improving your piano skills; that's all.
So I...
That's why I hated you.
A wave of all sorts of filthy, inferior emotions flooded his chest. Heiner's body slowly collapsed. He had struggled so hard for that one woman, and this was what he ended up with.
Heiner clutched his head with both hands. His breath came in gasps. Finally, unable to hold it in, he spat it out. The man, curled up in a corner, sobbed silently.
The sound of the piano came from afar, carried by the wind.
He cried for a very long time.
***
AU 703, Sutherland Island.
Puck.
Puck.
A dull thud echoed through the warehouse, filled with wispy cigar smoke. Several men surrounded a boy lying curled up in a circle.
One of the beating men spat as he watched the boy not groan.
“You damn bastard.”
“Do you like being a jerk to the director? Because of you, damn it, my name's on the list.”
Still unsatisfied, he kicked the boy in the stomach with all his might. The boy's upper body curled into a ball.
It was absurd. It wasn't his fault they were on the survival training list despite being seniors.
Because their skills were compared to those of a mere third-grade boy. The director, deeming them inferior to even children, placed them on the survival training list.
“Hey, we should go soon.”
A woman who had been chatting with a friend on a chair, smoking a cheap cigar, suddenly stood up.
“If we’re late, we’ll get punished.”
The woman shook off the ashes and crouched down before the boy. Her brow furrowed as she examined his face.
“Oh, shit! I told you not to touch his face!”
“What the hell is he doing again?”
“He's handsome! Don’t hurt his face!”
“Hey, hey, shut up and come quickly.”
The woman clicked her tongue as if she was disappointed, then patted the boy on the cheek and got up.
“I don’t really want to hit you. Just do it well.”
The boy lay there, eyes open, as if dead. The woman puffed out a puff of cigar smoke and then turned away. A voice followed, "Come with me."
Bang. The warehouse door slammed shut. Silence fell upon the dark interior.
The boy struggled to his feet and dragged himself toward the wall. He leaned against the wall, coughing as he collapsed.
The gray training uniform was wrinkled and dirty. As the boy struggled to straighten his back, the name tag on the right side of his shirt was revealed.
Heiner Valdemar
Heiner spat out blood. His entire body ached, but thankfully, no part of him was broken. It seemed they had been careful to beat him, so as not to get caught in the crossfire by the instructor.
Lynching was a common occurrence here. Even among trainees, groups formed, and they used various excuses to relieve stress or eliminate rivals.
Lynchings were usually without justification or justification. They simply hit when they felt like it. Even if they were beaten to death, there was no other option.
Since Heiner was an excellent trainee who caught the supervisor's eye, they were also paying attention.
Heiner checked again to make sure there were no broken parts, then slowly got up.
“Ugh.”
The groan he'd been holding back escaped. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to brace his legs. If he skipped class, he'd lose points.
At the Sutherland Island training camp, survival training took place once every three months. They called it "survival training," but it was actually murder training. In fact, murder was even tolerated there.
In survival training, weapons were assigned based on scores. If your score was low, you were thrown into the forest barehanded.
Heiner walked with difficulty. Lifting his training uniform slightly, he saw a dark bruise on his stomach.
Heiner reached for a painkiller from his pocket, then stopped. He needed to numb himself to pain. He had torture training coming up soon anyway.
He exhaled, then took a quick step forward. His whole body seemed to be screaming, but at least it didn't show on the outside.
However, Heiner ended up being late to class that day and had to lose points.
The Sutherland Island Training Camp was a Royal Army institution. It intensively trained spies and informants.
The most outstanding of them even joined the regular army. Of course, to do so, they had to first prove their loyalty to the crown by enduring near-death experiences in various operations.
Those entering the training camp were mostly teenagers and were divided into two types: criminals and orphans.
For over a decade, the royal family has been clearing out the homeless and orphans on a large scale to improve the appearance of the streets. The homeless have disappeared, and the orphans have been sent to training camps.
Heiner was one of them. He lost his parents at a very young age and was raised in a squalid orphanage until he was twelve. He then boarded a ship bound for Sutherland Island.
The children imprisoned on the island were indoctrinated into loyalty to the crown. After graduating from a six- to seven-year training program, they worked in the shadows of the military.
The survival rate to graduation was around 30%. While this was a low number, the military considered it a high number, as there were so many orphans.
“Heiner.”
The candle flickered at the sound of the approaching figure. Heiner lifted his head from his royal history textbook. It was Ethan, his roommate.
"Are you feeling better? You have survival training tomorrow or the day after."
“...Just so-so.”
In fact, things weren't going so well. The guys had been relentlessly harassing Heiner ever since. He couldn't move like he normally would.
“What’s the score?”
“It’s not high.”
“Oh, I see. Um... What I was trying to say was, even if we were to be on different teams tomorrow...”
Ethan hesitated for a moment. He was a year younger than Heiner.
“Let’s just let each other live.”
“...”
“We both hate having a new roommate we don’t know, don’t we?”
The candle wax melted. Heiner glanced at the two empty beds that hadn't been occupied yet and asked.
“What about Yugo and Stefan?”
“I’ve reached an agreement with them, too. So, are you going to do it or not?”
Heiner thought for a moment.
His physical condition wasn't great; if anything, he was in pretty bad shape, but he was able to fight two or three opponents and win. Of course, this assumed they were wielding the same weapon.
But with his current score, the odds of not getting a good weapon were high. Accepting the offer didn't seem like a bad idea.
"...Good."
“Oh, good choice. Let’s not hit each other in the back of the head, shall we?”
Ethan patted Heiner on the shoulder, his face brightening. Heiner nodded expressionlessly.
A dull thud echoed through the warehouse, filled with wispy cigar smoke. Several men surrounded a boy lying curled up in a circle.
One of the beating men spat as he watched the boy not groan.
“You damn bastard.”
“Do you like being a jerk to the director? Because of you, damn it, my name's on the list.”
Still unsatisfied, he kicked the boy in the stomach with all his might. The boy's upper body curled into a ball.
It was absurd. It wasn't his fault they were on the survival training list despite being seniors.
Because their skills were compared to those of a mere third-grade boy. The director, deeming them inferior to even children, placed them on the survival training list.
“Hey, we should go soon.”
A woman who had been chatting with a friend on a chair, smoking a cheap cigar, suddenly stood up.
“If we’re late, we’ll get punished.”
The woman shook off the ashes and crouched down before the boy. Her brow furrowed as she examined his face.
“Oh, shit! I told you not to touch his face!”
“What the hell is he doing again?”
“He's handsome! Don’t hurt his face!”
“Hey, hey, shut up and come quickly.”
The woman clicked her tongue as if she was disappointed, then patted the boy on the cheek and got up.
“I don’t really want to hit you. Just do it well.”
The boy lay there, eyes open, as if dead. The woman puffed out a puff of cigar smoke and then turned away. A voice followed, "Come with me."
Bang. The warehouse door slammed shut. Silence fell upon the dark interior.
The boy struggled to his feet and dragged himself toward the wall. He leaned against the wall, coughing as he collapsed.
The gray training uniform was wrinkled and dirty. As the boy struggled to straighten his back, the name tag on the right side of his shirt was revealed.
Heiner Valdemar
Heiner spat out blood. His entire body ached, but thankfully, no part of him was broken. It seemed they had been careful to beat him, so as not to get caught in the crossfire by the instructor.
Lynching was a common occurrence here. Even among trainees, groups formed, and they used various excuses to relieve stress or eliminate rivals.
Lynchings were usually without justification or justification. They simply hit when they felt like it. Even if they were beaten to death, there was no other option.
Since Heiner was an excellent trainee who caught the supervisor's eye, they were also paying attention.
Heiner checked again to make sure there were no broken parts, then slowly got up.
“Ugh.”
The groan he'd been holding back escaped. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to brace his legs. If he skipped class, he'd lose points.
At the Sutherland Island training camp, survival training took place once every three months. They called it "survival training," but it was actually murder training. In fact, murder was even tolerated there.
In survival training, weapons were assigned based on scores. If your score was low, you were thrown into the forest barehanded.
Heiner walked with difficulty. Lifting his training uniform slightly, he saw a dark bruise on his stomach.
Heiner reached for a painkiller from his pocket, then stopped. He needed to numb himself to pain. He had torture training coming up soon anyway.
He exhaled, then took a quick step forward. His whole body seemed to be screaming, but at least it didn't show on the outside.
However, Heiner ended up being late to class that day and had to lose points.
***
The Sutherland Island Training Camp was a Royal Army institution. It intensively trained spies and informants.
The most outstanding of them even joined the regular army. Of course, to do so, they had to first prove their loyalty to the crown by enduring near-death experiences in various operations.
Those entering the training camp were mostly teenagers and were divided into two types: criminals and orphans.
For over a decade, the royal family has been clearing out the homeless and orphans on a large scale to improve the appearance of the streets. The homeless have disappeared, and the orphans have been sent to training camps.
Heiner was one of them. He lost his parents at a very young age and was raised in a squalid orphanage until he was twelve. He then boarded a ship bound for Sutherland Island.
The children imprisoned on the island were indoctrinated into loyalty to the crown. After graduating from a six- to seven-year training program, they worked in the shadows of the military.
The survival rate to graduation was around 30%. While this was a low number, the military considered it a high number, as there were so many orphans.
“Heiner.”
The candle flickered at the sound of the approaching figure. Heiner lifted his head from his royal history textbook. It was Ethan, his roommate.
"Are you feeling better? You have survival training tomorrow or the day after."
“...Just so-so.”
In fact, things weren't going so well. The guys had been relentlessly harassing Heiner ever since. He couldn't move like he normally would.
“What’s the score?”
“It’s not high.”
“Oh, I see. Um... What I was trying to say was, even if we were to be on different teams tomorrow...”
Ethan hesitated for a moment. He was a year younger than Heiner.
“Let’s just let each other live.”
“...”
“We both hate having a new roommate we don’t know, don’t we?”
The candle wax melted. Heiner glanced at the two empty beds that hadn't been occupied yet and asked.
“What about Yugo and Stefan?”
“I’ve reached an agreement with them, too. So, are you going to do it or not?”
Heiner thought for a moment.
His physical condition wasn't great; if anything, he was in pretty bad shape, but he was able to fight two or three opponents and win. Of course, this assumed they were wielding the same weapon.
But with his current score, the odds of not getting a good weapon were high. Accepting the offer didn't seem like a bad idea.
"...Good."
“Oh, good choice. Let’s not hit each other in the back of the head, shall we?”
Ethan patted Heiner on the shoulder, his face brightening. Heiner nodded expressionlessly.
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