~Chapter 02~

The world had changed.

Walking through the desolate streets at dawn, Edith was once again reminded of that fact.

The change wasn’t just that the long and exhausting war had finally ended. Even three years after the war, Edith’s world had changed in countless ways.

Unlike Maximilian, from whom news of the warriors at least reached her, her older brother Ernil had completely cut off contact—there was no word at all.

Her mother, Elise, who had been tormented day by day, soon fell ill and never recovered. This happened just a month before the war officially ended.

Ernil returned three months after the end of the war. He had been held captive in Hasmal and was finally released after a successful prisoner exchange.

For a brief moment, there was joy in reclaiming her only family—but it didn’t last. Ernil developed severe post-traumatic stress disorder from the war. Persistent seizures and panic attacks ravaged his mind within a single year, and ultimately, he took his own life.

Thus, Edith lost all of her family to the war.

“How can people be so cruel?”

A streak of self-mockery passed through her mind as she hurried along the foggy, dimly lit streets. It was far too early for anyone to be out; the only passerby she encountered was a lamplighter on his way to work. Most of Edith’s outings occurred at these unusual hours: either very early or very late.

This was because now, being discovered by anyone could be dangerous.

Finally reaching an alley after walking along a broad avenue, Edith surveyed her surroundings. Once she confirmed that no one was around, she pressed her bonnet further down over her face and entered the narrow, dark alley. A faint stench of sewer drifted up from the ground.

She stopped in front of a building made of weathered red bricks. Drawing a key from her pocket, she opened the door to reveal a seemingly ordinary living room.

Passing through the fairly spacious room, she stopped in front of a metal cabinet. Though she had appeared calm walking through the dark alley, tension was clearly visible on her face now.

Holding her breath, Edith pulled the cabinet with all her strength.

Creeeeak—

With an unpleasant screech, the cabinet swung open like a hidden door, revealing a passage to the back of the house. This was a secret doorway concealed behind the main room.

Edith stepped carefully through the opening, ensuring the cabinet was pushed back into its original position behind her.

Of course, this rudimentary deception wouldn’t fool the Hasmal secret police, the Stipz, if they ever broke in—but it would buy her at least a little time.

Passing down a dark corridor, Edith quickly arrived at a modest living room. To prevent light from leaking outside, only a single gas lamp was lit, casting a dim yellow glow. As she removed her bonnet and cape, a familiar voice greeted her.

“Welcome back,” said Perrel, a man with dark chestnut hair.

“Yes. I came to see everyone onto the train. Everything was fine here, right?”

Perrel smiled awkwardly.

“You’ve only been gone about two hours.”

“Even so,” Edith said, hanging her bonnet and cape on a wooden stand.

“If our operation succeeds, the Stipz will intensify their searches,” Perrel warned.

“….”

“We need to move the safe house abroad as soon as possible—Glissen, specifically.”

Edith silently nodded to Perrel’s heavy tone.

Edith’s homeland, Berg, had been occupied by Hasmal after losing the war. Though expected, Hasmal’s subsequent atrocities were beyond comprehension. They expanded their power gradually, waging simultaneous wars on neighboring countries.

Not only that—they forcibly abolished Berg’s monarchy, confiscated citizens’ property, killed children, and raped women.

People’s responses to Hasmal’s cruelty were usually one of two: resignation or resistance.

Edith chose the latter, thanks to Perrel. In the midst of ongoing tragedies, Perrel—Ernil’s longtime friend and comrade—approached her with a proposition:

“For Berg… no, for Ernil and Captain Lindel, who were sacrificed in this war, won’t you join us?”

Thus, Edith became part of the resistance. She liquidated all her assets to help Perrel establish a base for the resistance. As a result, many young people from Berg joined the cause, and even Prince Bariel, the last heir of the Berg royal family, eventually joined. Their force was finally becoming significant enough to pressure Hasmal.

Of course, Hasmal did not sit idly by. As the resistance grew, they created political prisoner camps and organized the Stipz to capture anyone they could.

In Belhen, the capital, military trucks filled with Berg citizens were sent away daily, as if they were livestock—making it easy to imagine the horrifying reality of the situation.

“What about Leon?”

“He’s in his room. He cried a bit when he woke up, but he fell asleep quickly.”

Edith smiled apologetically.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. He’s grown up enough now that his crying stops quickly.”

“Perrel, you’ve become quite skilled. When you marry, your wife will love you thanks to Leon.”

“Introduce me to someone first,” Perrel said, prompting Edith to giggle.

As her laughter subsided, Perrel stood.

“I’ll be going upstairs now.”

“Yes.”

“By the way, the accounting books are on the desk.”

“You’re saying that as a hint to get me to work instead of resting.”

“No, that’s not—”

“Just joking, Perrel. I’ll check them right away.”

“Yes. Get some rest.”

Perrel headed up the stairs while Edith went to her room. She planned to check on the sleeping Leon, review the books, and pack her things. As she walked, she thought through all the tasks awaiting her today.

Meanwhile, in a different scene, a fat man on a creaking iron bed gasped for air. A slim woman was sitting on his waist.

“Haa…”

“Good?”

“Not just good. I’m losing it.”

Click. “Feels like heaven.”

The woman smiled softly. The man could only gasp, unable to respond.

The woman lifted her hair, letting her long red locks cascade down her bare back. In her hand was a thin needle.

Apologetic for interrupting his pleasure, she glanced at the clock on the wall. The promised time was almost up.

Then, with a swift motion:

Guh!

The man screamed as the needle pierced his throat.

The woman pressed the needle fully, watching him writhe as his eyes rolled back. Foam of blood appeared at his mouth before he collapsed instantly.

“Seems like heaven isn’t an option, so I made one for you,” she said coldly.

After confirming he had stopped breathing, she dressed and approached the window. With the moon hidden behind clouds, the night was pitch dark. She leapt into the darkness.

A black car awaited her below. She climbed in, smiling at the man who had been waiting.

“Been waiting long?”

“Not really. Mission accomplished?”

“What are you asking? Obviously.”

Despite her indifferent answer, the black-haired man, Zekart, started the car without further questions.

“You finished quickly, Rachel. I thought I’d have to wait.”

“I don’t do unnecessary work.”

Zekart glanced at her sweat-soaked nape.

“Cleric?” he asked.

“Yes. Jealous?”

Zekart let out a small laugh, more exasperation than jealousy. He was tired of her extreme methods.

The organization usually gave assassins only a target name. They wouldn’t know why the target had to die, or how—they had to figure that out themselves. Even other members were expected not to interfere with each other’s methods.

Rachel’s method was unusual: she violated the target’s taboo before killing them—during relations for clerics, while accepting bribes for politicians. Perhaps it was her way of staying sane in a life of killing: making the target deserving of death herself.

By the time these thoughts faded, the car arrived at Rachel’s hideout.

“Thank you,” she said, closing the passenger door.

Then, reopening it, she asked, “Want to sleep over?”

Zekart chuckled, declining: “No. I have a weak stomach.”

Rachel pouted, unused to success with her seductions.

“See you tomorrow—”

Before she could finish, the car kicked up dust and disappeared into the darkness.