TMLH 06

~Chapter 06~

“A woman?”

When Zekart first asked him to look into the matter, Marcus had looked slightly surprised.

“Perel Monty had a woman?”

“Yes. And a child, at that.”

“That’s strange. I was sure he said he was unmarried.”

Marcus kept tilting his head in confusion, but a few days later he returned with additional information.

“Here. The thing you mentioned last time.”

“……”

“I filtered out only the women among the Berg resistance members identified so far. I’ll leave these here—look them over later.”

Zekart’s gaze briefly swept over the documents Marcus had left behind as he continued doing pull-ups on the horizontal bar.

After completing the number of repetitions he had originally planned, Zekart dropped down from the bar. Unlike usual, however, he didn’t head straight for the bathroom. His patience for paperwork only lasted as long as the pull-ups did.

He opened the file with somewhat hasty hands. His sweat-soaked body flexed as tense muscles shifted beneath his skin.

Bailey. Sasha. Karin…

The documents, filled with mostly common names and personal details, had black-and-white photographs attached here and there.

Zekart covered the bridge of each face with his index finger. Then he clicked his tongue softly.

As if I’d recognize her.

All he’d seen had been the lower half of her face, her eyes hidden beneath the brim of a bonnet. Even that had been no more than a vague outline in the dark. It would have been difficult to recognize her even face-to-face—there was no way a blurry monochrome photograph would suffice.

Fortunately, there weren’t that many names. He would just have to visit them one by one.

With that troublesome plan in mind, Zekart finally headed for the bathroom.

On the last page of the file he left behind was the name Edith Lindel.

A moment later, standing beneath the streaming water, Zekart suddenly felt a sharp sting.

It didn’t take long for him to realize it was from the wound on his shoulder that had yet to fully heal.

Turning off the shower, Zekart slowly traced the rough scab with his fingers. Naturally, his thoughts drifted to the one who had left him this mark.

Bailey. Sasha. Karin. And… Edith.

That woman—who might be one of those names.

Perhaps because he had known her more by touch than by sight, his memories of her were mostly tactile.

Smooth and hot, and soft to the touch…

As he lingered on the sensation, his fingertips suddenly felt something sticky. Blood. Familiar to him. The scab that had barely held on had torn away under the unconscious force of his grip.

Drip.

A short, humorless laugh escaped him as Zekart turned the shower back on.

Beneath the falling water, the stinging pain scraped at his nerves.

Just like that woman had.

Edith arrived in Belen, the capital of Hasmal, at dusk after a full day’s journey by train.

With early winter setting in, the wind in Belen was brisk. Carrying fragments of crushed fallen leaves, it coiled around her legs and fluttered the hem of her skirt.

Pulling down the hat with its black veil, Edith hurried off the crowded platform alongside Perel.

Perel hailed a hansom cab waiting outside the station and helped her in. Sitting side by side on the narrow seat, the two of them could easily be mistaken for newlyweds.

“It’ll be a bumpy ride. Hold on tight.”

Edith gave a stiff, slightly nervous smile beneath her veil.

The carriage lurched forward.

“Is this your first time in Hasmal?”

“No.”

That was all she said, but Perel smiled as if he understood.

“You must’ve come with your husband.”

“How did you know?”

“Because nearly everything outside of your daily life was shared with him.”

Edith smiled a little awkwardly, surprised it had been that obvious.

“Still, you were only half right this time.”

“Pardon?”

“I came with him—but I returned alone.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

“My goodness. How fearless.”

Looking at Perel’s incredulous expression beyond the veil, Edith sank into memory.

“Traveling abroad alone had always been my dream. Back then, it was before the war, and relations with Hasmal—our neighboring country—were fairly friendly.”

Of course, she hadn’t known at the time that Hasmal had already been preparing for war, tightening border security as a result.

Despite Elise’s fierce opposition, Edith had set out on her own. It had only been possible because she promised to stay with distant relatives living in Hasmal.

She had planned carefully—or so she thought. Soon enough, she learned that her plans extended no further than tourist destinations. The trip she’d expected to go smoothly ran into serious trouble the moment she crossed the border. She’d been detained for inspection.

“No one believed a woman would travel alone. Not even when I said I was visiting relatives.”

“I wouldn’t have believed it either.”

“For about three days, I was stuck there, unable to go anywhere. Then he heard about it and came—he was working as a guard at the embassy back then.”

“Ah, so that’s when you first met?”

“Yes.”

Edith’s cheeks flushed slightly at the memory.

“I’d already wasted so much time that I couldn’t even visit my relatives anymore. All my plans were ruined, and I was going to head back after killing time near the border. When he heard the story, he said there was a place nearby worth seeing and took me to the sea.”

“The sea—where?”

“Caprang.”

“Oh—”

Perel clapped his hands lightly.

“I know it. It’s famous for its sandy beaches. And it’s close to Belen, too.”

“That’s right.”

Even now, recalling that time made Edith’s heart race. The shimmering waves dyed by the setting sun and the sound of waves crashing against the shore had been beautiful—but the most breathtaking sight of all had been Maximilian’s profile as he gazed silently at the scene.

If asked to choose the brightest moment of her life, Edith would choose that instant—Maximilian as he was then.

The man she fell in love with at first sight.
The man who kept her awake every night.

My Maximilian.

I’ll write to you.

Come to think of it, she’d said the same words back then. Just like when she saw him off to war.

A sudden loneliness crept over her.

Edith cracked the carriage window open slightly.

The sun had fully set, and the wind had grown colder.

“If there’s time, you should stop by Caprang while you’re here,” Perel said gently, sensing her mood.

There was no reply.

“It’s been a while, Zekart.”

At Dr. Heinrich’s greeting, Zekart responded with a stiff nod.

“It’s only been two weeks.”

“Ha. Two weeks isn’t such a short time, you know.”

Heinrich, a psychiatrist, examined Zekart once every two weeks. It was a sort of welfare benefit provided by the organization—especially in Zekart’s case, since he had lost his memory.

The wrinkled hands guided Zekart to the bed. Heinrich quietly studied the young, healthy body lying before him.

“Has anything come back to you in the meantime?”

“No.”

“The headaches and insomnia are still there?”

“Yes.”

“Hm.”

Heinrich let out a low murmur. Despite years of steady treatment, there had been no significant results over the past three years.

Even so, Zekart never missed his appointments. It wasn’t hope so much as habit.

“Losing things is easy. Recovering them is not. Don’t be too impatient.”

“I’m not impatient.”

“Good, then.”

Heinrich connected the IV drip hanging from the stand to the vein in Zekart’s arm.

Drip. Drip.

The cloudy liquid fell drop by drop, slowly flowing into Zekart’s body.

“As usual, it’ll take about an hour.”

“……”

“You’ll be done once you’ve had a nap. Rest easy.”

As Heinrich said, his consciousness began to crumble bit by bit. Sounds drifted away. His vision blurred. His darkened pupils slowly sank behind his eyelids.

And when he opened his eyes again, Zekart found himself submerged in water of unfathomable depth.

Despite the tightening sensation of suffocation, he blinked calmly, as though accustomed to it.

This was the Sea of the Unconscious, where his lost memories had dissolved—some abyssal depth that had sunk beyond even his own reach.

Heinrich’s medicine always brought him here.

Zekart swam deeper into the abyss, black as if painted with Vantablack.

Drip. Drip.

As the concentration of the drug in his body thickened, the memories that had lain dormant began to rise.

—I’ll…

A woman’s damp voice reached him. Faint at first, then fading away, it stirred the very first words he had long forgotten.

I’ll write to you.

Ah. That was it.

The darkness warped, and the owner of the voice slowly took shape—trembling lips, a faintly reddened nose, and eyes smiling through forced tears.