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Annette momentarily doubted her ears. It was obvious who the "stone-like bastard" was referring to, but she couldn't quite bring herself to connect the dots.
“Are you talking about Heiner...?”
“Then who would it be?”
“...That person... So to me...”
"Yeah, he must have had feelings for Miss Rosenberg. Whenever you passed by, he'd stare at you from afar. I told you that was the first time I'd seen him do that."
Elliot chuckled, but Annette couldn't even force a smile.
"When I told him to do well, he just dismissed it as nonsense, and then he ended up getting married? I was always curious, but how on earth did he get you?"
“...When did you end the operation and return to Frances?”
“Hmm? Hmm... It was early 713, I think.”
By then, it was before she even met Heiner in the rose garden. Had he known her before?
Well, it made sense since he had approached her intentionally from the beginning.
But whether this man's words were true or not, she should not have been considered an important person to Heiner at this point.
"If I'm dead, I'm dead. I can't be a bother to him," Annette said calmly, as if it didn't mean anything special.
"I guess he was interested. He had a purpose for me from the beginning. After the revolution, he didn't even think about hiding his true self."
"Ah, revolution. Right. Speaking of which—and yet he stayed married for three more years? Why?"
“It must be because of the reputation.”
"Reputation? What good will it do to his reputation if he continues living with Margrave Dietrich's daughter?"
“He couldn’t have kicked me out by force. He... didn’t accept the divorce.”
"Oh, that makes sense. Haha, it looks like the world-famous Miss Rosenberg is holding out in the official residence. Didn't you have any pride?"
Pride...
It was a word that sounded so unfamiliar. At one point, she didn't even think of it as something she had to "keep." It was just something she naturally "kept."
"...Well."
Annette muttered, looking into the distance.
“Why did you do that?”
The charred treetops were shrouded in fog. Blackened by the saturation, the wood looked as if it would crumble to pieces if touched.
Suddenly, she felt someone's gaze and raised her head. Elliot was staring intently at her. He smiled and said.
“Let’s walk.”
He borrowed a light from a patrolling soldier, Frances, and put a second cigar into his mouth. It always struck her that soldiers on the battlefield were 100% addicts.
“So, how has he been?”
“Just, well...”
"Well?"
Annette answered somewhat mechanically.
"The revolution was successful, and he became commander-in-chief. He was loved and respected by the people. Isn't that a good life?"
"Oh, I was talking about something a little more personal. I can read that kind of stuff in the newspaper."
“If it’s personal...”
"So—happily, you know. I thought he'd be miserable his whole life. So I promised him. I'd be fucking happy."
As he spoke, Elliot's face showed no sign of worry or concern. Annette asked absentmindedly.
“...Why did you think that? That person would be unhappy.”
"Well, the reasons are varied. First of all, his personality and the life he's lived are such that he's never been happy. He doesn't seem to have any real will to be happy, either. And above all, I've thrown his life into the gutter."
“What is that...?”
“Didn’t that bastard go on a rampage, saying he was going to kill all of those Frances kids?”
A puff of cigarette smoke drifted out, following Elliot's laughter. Annette shook her head slowly, not responding.
“So, you don’t know whether your husband lived happily or not?”
He... didn’t seem particularly happy.
She responded to Elliot as if she didn't know much about him, but the truth was, Heiner could pretend to be happy even when he wasn't. So, judging by appearances alone was pointless.
But she didn't want to tell Elliot this story in detail. It wouldn't do any good if it dragged on.
“Then, has he ever talked about his friends? I don’t know if they’re all alive or dead.”
“...He's also doing well...”
“Are you talking about Heiner...?”
“Then who would it be?”
“...That person... So to me...”
"Yeah, he must have had feelings for Miss Rosenberg. Whenever you passed by, he'd stare at you from afar. I told you that was the first time I'd seen him do that."
Elliot chuckled, but Annette couldn't even force a smile.
"When I told him to do well, he just dismissed it as nonsense, and then he ended up getting married? I was always curious, but how on earth did he get you?"
“...When did you end the operation and return to Frances?”
“Hmm? Hmm... It was early 713, I think.”
By then, it was before she even met Heiner in the rose garden. Had he known her before?
Well, it made sense since he had approached her intentionally from the beginning.
But whether this man's words were true or not, she should not have been considered an important person to Heiner at this point.
"If I'm dead, I'm dead. I can't be a bother to him," Annette said calmly, as if it didn't mean anything special.
"I guess he was interested. He had a purpose for me from the beginning. After the revolution, he didn't even think about hiding his true self."
"Ah, revolution. Right. Speaking of which—and yet he stayed married for three more years? Why?"
“It must be because of the reputation.”
"Reputation? What good will it do to his reputation if he continues living with Margrave Dietrich's daughter?"
“He couldn’t have kicked me out by force. He... didn’t accept the divorce.”
"Oh, that makes sense. Haha, it looks like the world-famous Miss Rosenberg is holding out in the official residence. Didn't you have any pride?"
Pride...
It was a word that sounded so unfamiliar. At one point, she didn't even think of it as something she had to "keep." It was just something she naturally "kept."
"...Well."
Annette muttered, looking into the distance.
“Why did you do that?”
The charred treetops were shrouded in fog. Blackened by the saturation, the wood looked as if it would crumble to pieces if touched.
Suddenly, she felt someone's gaze and raised her head. Elliot was staring intently at her. He smiled and said.
“Let’s walk.”
He borrowed a light from a patrolling soldier, Frances, and put a second cigar into his mouth. It always struck her that soldiers on the battlefield were 100% addicts.
“So, how has he been?”
“Just, well...”
"Well?"
Annette answered somewhat mechanically.
"The revolution was successful, and he became commander-in-chief. He was loved and respected by the people. Isn't that a good life?"
"Oh, I was talking about something a little more personal. I can read that kind of stuff in the newspaper."
“If it’s personal...”
"So—happily, you know. I thought he'd be miserable his whole life. So I promised him. I'd be fucking happy."
As he spoke, Elliot's face showed no sign of worry or concern. Annette asked absentmindedly.
“...Why did you think that? That person would be unhappy.”
"Well, the reasons are varied. First of all, his personality and the life he's lived are such that he's never been happy. He doesn't seem to have any real will to be happy, either. And above all, I've thrown his life into the gutter."
“What is that...?”
“Didn’t that bastard go on a rampage, saying he was going to kill all of those Frances kids?”
A puff of cigarette smoke drifted out, following Elliot's laughter. Annette shook her head slowly, not responding.
“So, you don’t know whether your husband lived happily or not?”
He... didn’t seem particularly happy.
She responded to Elliot as if she didn't know much about him, but the truth was, Heiner could pretend to be happy even when he wasn't. So, judging by appearances alone was pointless.
But she didn't want to tell Elliot this story in detail. It wouldn't do any good if it dragged on.
“Then, has he ever talked about his friends? I don’t know if they’re all alive or dead.”
“...He's also doing well...”
“Hmm? Then do you know exactly what Heiner did for the Marquis, and why he hates him?”
"...”
“Miss Rosenberg, you don’t know anything about your ex-husband, do you?”
Annette barely concealed her agitation. Every time she heard a question about him, her mouth felt dry. Elliot spoke with a puzzled expression.
"I thought you should know the story of the past, even if nothing else. After all, this all happened because of your father. Didn't Heiner tell Miss Rosenberg? No."
“...”
“Miss Rosenberg, have you ever asked your husband a proper question?”
Annette hid her trembling hands behind her skirt. She didn't ask. She felt she shouldn't ask. The moment she did, they would be forever locked in pain.
We are forever...
How far did she run away because of that one word?
Elliot stared into space, taking a deep drag on his cigar. He exhaled smoke like a sigh, clicking his tongue slightly.
“I don’t think you should hear this from me, but... since you’re divorced, it looks like you won’t be seeing each other again.”
“...”
"I also have a supervisor with Margrave Dietrich. Heiner aside, I wish Miss Rosenberg knew more about him."
She felt as if the fog surrounding her was gradually thinning. However, her distant vision remained hazy.
“It’s a long story.”
Annette stepped into the fog.
There was a time when he thought he should quit.
He should stop going to her.
It's time to stop looking at things from afar.
In fact, it wasn't something he'd thought about once or twice. Every time he realized that the place he was standing in was an inescapable quagmire, Heiner vowed over and over again to stop all this.
Graduating from training camp and becoming a full-fledged soldier was a different matter. Even if a trainee were to receive all the honors they deserved, it would be the same.
Because his soul will be trapped on this island until he dies.
There's nothing more miserable than yearning for that shining star in a dark, slushy swamp. So, he should just stop. There was a time when he thought that.
That was the day.
He complained of pain with every movement of his abdomen, which was bruised black and blue from having been kicked by his instructor. This was because he had been hit while trying to stop the instructor from assaulting a fellow student.
This was because Heiner caught the Marquis's eye and was given a free pass. The comrade, who had been assaulted dozens of times on the face and body, suffered permanent disabilities.
A trainee who can't move is useless. He will be dealt with on the island. Everything that happens here is confidential.
The motive was a sparring partner he trained with for quite some time. He was fast and strong, but surprisingly shy.
There was no particular reason why he did that. The instructor was in a bad mood that day, and he just got caught in the wrong situation. That was it.
Losing motivation was a familiar experience. But Heiner knew that the bloody scenes that had filled his eyes would forever remain etched in his memory.
His life will sink with these damned memories, like trash buried at the bottom of the deep sea.
So that day, Heiner thought again. He had to stop all this nonsense. He really thought that day would be the last, and he would never come back here again.
Really, never again.
The boy, overcome by a strange evil, strode roughly into the garden. A thud echoed through the ground. Then, suddenly, a sob came and stopped him.
A small girl, as petite as a small animal, sat in the corner of the flowerbed. Her fine dress and long, neatly braided blonde hair suggested her noble status.
Heiner instinctively hid behind a tree and watched her. She was sobbing sadly, her face buried in her knees.
Heiner froze stiffly at the sight of her tears, which he had never seen before and thought he would never see again.
She was crying so sadly, as if she were so sad. Seeing her small back swaying slightly, she felt a pang in her chest.
'Why...?'
Why are you crying here, leaving your room, which must be so large and splendid? Why are you here alone, seeking warmth from no one?
Is there anything difficult for you to endure?
I wonder if you have any heartache, too.
You too... are you a little lonely?
It was a ridiculous thought. The sorrow he could imagine would be nothing more than a small and shallow one.
Nevertheless, Heiner felt she was crying on his behalf, even though he knew that wouldn't happen.
So he couldn't leave his seat.
He stayed there for a long time, unable to approach her, talk to her, or hug her to comfort her.
“Miss Rosenberg, you don’t know anything about your ex-husband, do you?”
Annette barely concealed her agitation. Every time she heard a question about him, her mouth felt dry. Elliot spoke with a puzzled expression.
"I thought you should know the story of the past, even if nothing else. After all, this all happened because of your father. Didn't Heiner tell Miss Rosenberg? No."
“...”
“Miss Rosenberg, have you ever asked your husband a proper question?”
Annette hid her trembling hands behind her skirt. She didn't ask. She felt she shouldn't ask. The moment she did, they would be forever locked in pain.
We are forever...
How far did she run away because of that one word?
Elliot stared into space, taking a deep drag on his cigar. He exhaled smoke like a sigh, clicking his tongue slightly.
“I don’t think you should hear this from me, but... since you’re divorced, it looks like you won’t be seeing each other again.”
“...”
"I also have a supervisor with Margrave Dietrich. Heiner aside, I wish Miss Rosenberg knew more about him."
She felt as if the fog surrounding her was gradually thinning. However, her distant vision remained hazy.
“It’s a long story.”
Annette stepped into the fog.
***
There was a time when he thought he should quit.
He should stop going to her.
It's time to stop looking at things from afar.
In fact, it wasn't something he'd thought about once or twice. Every time he realized that the place he was standing in was an inescapable quagmire, Heiner vowed over and over again to stop all this.
Graduating from training camp and becoming a full-fledged soldier was a different matter. Even if a trainee were to receive all the honors they deserved, it would be the same.
Because his soul will be trapped on this island until he dies.
There's nothing more miserable than yearning for that shining star in a dark, slushy swamp. So, he should just stop. There was a time when he thought that.
That was the day.
He complained of pain with every movement of his abdomen, which was bruised black and blue from having been kicked by his instructor. This was because he had been hit while trying to stop the instructor from assaulting a fellow student.
This was because Heiner caught the Marquis's eye and was given a free pass. The comrade, who had been assaulted dozens of times on the face and body, suffered permanent disabilities.
A trainee who can't move is useless. He will be dealt with on the island. Everything that happens here is confidential.
The motive was a sparring partner he trained with for quite some time. He was fast and strong, but surprisingly shy.
There was no particular reason why he did that. The instructor was in a bad mood that day, and he just got caught in the wrong situation. That was it.
Losing motivation was a familiar experience. But Heiner knew that the bloody scenes that had filled his eyes would forever remain etched in his memory.
His life will sink with these damned memories, like trash buried at the bottom of the deep sea.
So that day, Heiner thought again. He had to stop all this nonsense. He really thought that day would be the last, and he would never come back here again.
Really, never again.
The boy, overcome by a strange evil, strode roughly into the garden. A thud echoed through the ground. Then, suddenly, a sob came and stopped him.
A small girl, as petite as a small animal, sat in the corner of the flowerbed. Her fine dress and long, neatly braided blonde hair suggested her noble status.
Heiner instinctively hid behind a tree and watched her. She was sobbing sadly, her face buried in her knees.
Heiner froze stiffly at the sight of her tears, which he had never seen before and thought he would never see again.
She was crying so sadly, as if she were so sad. Seeing her small back swaying slightly, she felt a pang in her chest.
'Why...?'
Why are you crying here, leaving your room, which must be so large and splendid? Why are you here alone, seeking warmth from no one?
Is there anything difficult for you to endure?
I wonder if you have any heartache, too.
You too... are you a little lonely?
It was a ridiculous thought. The sorrow he could imagine would be nothing more than a small and shallow one.
Nevertheless, Heiner felt she was crying on his behalf, even though he knew that wouldn't happen.
So he couldn't leave his seat.
He stayed there for a long time, unable to approach her, talk to her, or hug her to comfort her.
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