TMLH 17

~Chapter 17~

The diary lay open at a certain page, stubbornly refusing to move forward. He stared down at it with irritated eyes.

“…Is she insane?”

No matter how many times he read it, the same thought surfaced. Otherwise, there was no way she would have devised a plan to assassinate a key figure of Hasmal—of all people, Chief Superintendent Hermann Miller of Stiftz.

If not that, then maybe she was just desperate to die.

True to her cautious nature, the woman hadn’t written anything explicit in the diary. The entries were vague—cryptic, almost suggestive at best. Still, they were enough to serve as clues.

And for Jekart, who had meticulously monitored Edith’s movements all this time, they were more than sufficient to piece together her plan.

“Riche has a rather unusual temperament.”
“She changes assignments every day, so she’s practically been everywhere in that enormous city hall.”

Once Gisela’s information was added to the mix, Jekart could even guess the date she intended to carry it out.

The commendation ceremony.

He checked the date on the desk calendar and clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached.

She might succeed in assassinating Hermann Miller—but there was no way she’d survive afterward.

She may have devised her own escape plan, but Stiftz wasn’t naive enough to let an assassin who killed one of their top leaders simply get away. She would be captured, tortured under the guise of interrogation, and eventually executed.

That was the part Jekart disliked the most.

The fact that he would have no involvement whatsoever in the woman’s death displeased him greatly.

Whether it was pity or something else, she was a woman who irritated him—a woman who got in his way, yet one he couldn’t easily touch. Precisely because she was that kind of woman, if she were to die—if not now, then someday soon—he felt that her death should include his share.

The problem was that she wouldn’t give up so easily.

If this insane plan were driven by some flimsy ideology, that would be one thing. But if it involved the life or death of a comrade imprisoned in a camp, then she would neither abandon it nor delay it.

Then what do I do?

His thoughts grew wild, tangled like vines in midsummer. They spread recklessly, branching out in every direction—until they finally reached a single conclusion.

A conclusion he would never have considered under normal circumstances.

With that, his thoughts stopped growing.

“Ha.”

Jekart let out a soft, humorless laugh and pulled out a cigarette. Pale smoke drifted up, brushing away the lingering thoughts like afterimages.

At last, the hand that reeked of tobacco closed the diary that had been lying open for so long.

It was a decision.

Time passed like an arrow loosed from its bow. Four days were more than enough for that.

Edith sliced a peeled onion.

She was being as careful as she could, yet somehow the pieces all turned out different sizes. Too big to sauté properly, yet too thin to grill… She had never been talented in the kitchen to begin with.

In truth, cooking wasn’t the only thing Edith was bad at. She was clumsy with most things that required using her hands. Lacking dexterity and coordination, she was far better at still, quiet tasks—reading, writing, things like that.

She was curious, loved to travel, cherished freedom, and was honest.

Well… I suppose that’s changed now.

If her life hadn’t taken this turn, she would likely still be that kind of person. She wouldn’t be burdened by a heavy mission like this, nor would she have to hide her true feelings behind a calm façade.

Like a rock eroded by endless waves, she had lost much of her original shape.

So why is it that my cooking skills alone haven’t changed at all?

“Edith, um…”

The sudden voice belonged to Sasha.

“Yes?”

“You must be tired. Why don’t you rest a bit?”

Edith realized Sasha had said it indirectly after spotting the onion on the cutting board, and she felt a bit embarrassed. She set down the knife and awkwardly stepped back. Sasha quickly approached the board.

Once the half onion passed into Sasha’s hands, the pieces finally became uniform.

Watching quietly, Edith spoke in a deflated voice.

“Still, please give me something to do. It’s hard for you to handle everything alone. You’re not even in the best condition…”

“Well then, could you take out a few plates from over there?”

Edith nodded eagerly and walked to the cupboard. It was quite high, so she had to stand on her tiptoes to reach the plates.

Tap, tap.

Amid the steady rhythm of the knife, Sasha’s soft humming could be heard. Though she didn’t show it openly, she seemed genuinely excited about the party.

On the day before the commendation ceremony—the very definition of the calm before the storm—Edith had suggested holding a small gathering.

Calling it a party was generous; at best, it was just a slightly nicer meal than usual. But without it, they would all have spent the evening drowning in unbearable tension.

After deciding on the party, the four of them deliberately avoided talking about what would happen tomorrow.

There was no need.

They had already completed every preparation. The bomb was planted inside the large flowerpot near the podium. Gross Günther had been captured. Using his uniform and identification, Karon would infiltrate and activate the detonator. With Perel and Edith’s help, they would escape together.

At this point, there was nothing left to do but pray.

So perhaps—just for today, which might very well be the last—Edith hoped they could eat their fill and fall asleep in peace.

It didn’t take long for her to realize just how futile that wish was.

“E–Edith!”

The door burst open, and Karon rushed in. Perel, who had gone grocery shopping with him, was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s… Perel?”

“That’s…”

Karon, panting hard, stopped mid-sentence.

Edith’s fingers tightened around the plate, her knuckles turning white.

“What? Perel Monti? You’re saying Jekart’s current target is the Berg Resistance?”

“I’m telling you—it is.”

At Marcus’s answer, Rachel’s expression twisted.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought you already knew. You’re partners.”

“You don’t know that Jekart never shares that kind of thing with me?”

“Why are you snapping at me—”

Marcus was about to argue back, but when Rachel shot him a sharp, triangular glare, he bit his lip and fell silent.

“Seriously useless. Useless, the lot of you! What are you going to do if you run into that woman?”

“So what? She doesn’t even remember anything. Ah—okay, okay. I get it. Stop glaring.”

Rachel roughly tugged at her loose red hair and turned away.

Bang!

Even after stepping into the dim hallway, she couldn’t calm down.

Pacing back and forth, pulling out a cigarette, putting it back.

What the hell is he thinking?

Rachel couldn’t understand why χ had given Jekart such an order.

Maybe he wanted to test his own capabilities.

Or maybe he’s just overconfident.

She bit down hard on her neatly trimmed nails, then dropped her hand with a soft click.

“…No. Absolutely not.”

She had to meet χ.

No—before that, Jekart first.

Rachel headed straight down to the first floor, got into her car, and started the engine. She only then remembered she didn’t have the key—but it didn’t matter. If he was out, she would wait.

The car roared to life and sped off.

Worrying about the missing key turned out to be pointless.

She didn’t need it.

As soon as Rachel arrived at Jekart’s hideout, she ran into him in the corridor outside the door.

“Why?”

Instead of answering, Rachel pressed her lips together. Considering she’d driven like she was ready to run someone over just to get here, it was a surprisingly restrained reaction.

After looking down at her for a moment, Jekart pulled out a key.

Rachel spoke at the same time the door opened.

“Where… have you been?”

“As you can see.”

He didn’t invite her in, but Rachel followed him inside anyway. The door slammed shut behind them with a dull thud.

Crossing the cold, lifeless living room, she sank onto the leather sofa. Meanwhile, Jekart stood near the bathroom door, unfastening the buttons of his suit one by one.

“Wait.”

He didn’t say why she should wait. Rachel didn’t ask—she already knew.

It was because of the faint scent lingering in the air.

A smell she was all too familiar with.

Blood.

Did he eliminate the target?

Amid her racing thoughts, the sound of running water filled the room. Rachel stared blankly at the closed bathroom door.

The questions wouldn’t stop.

Was the blood he was washing away really Perel Monti’s?

If so, had he avoided running into her? Or had he met her—and killed her comrade without hesitation?

She couldn’t be sure.

Hope that it hadn’t happened and fear that it had tangled together, making her even more anxious.