Chapter 39
“Here is the list of prisoners scheduled for transfer to the new detention facility next week. We plan to separate them into two locations based on risk level and will use trucks and trains for transportation. Once the transfer is successfully completed, the congestion at Bellen Prison is expected to ease somewhat.”
Jekart took the documents handed over by Inspector Erich. Erich, currently serving as Jekart’s executive secretary, had accompanied him when they entered the Stifts headquarters. This also meant he was someone rooted in the organization.
“I’ll review and approve them.”
“Thank you.”
“Good work.”
“…Chief Inspector. May I make a suggestion?”
Erich, who had thought his report was finished, hesitated before speaking. Jekart’s dark eyes slowly shifted toward him from the documents.
“Speak.”
“The transfer is only a temporary measure. We can’t expand the prison indefinitely.”
Since Jekart’s appointment, the number of inmates at Bellen Prison had surged. Even with 1.5 times the capacity, there weren’t enough cells. He was indiscriminately arresting anyone with the slightest connection to the resistance.
“Not only is there a lack of space, but there is also a severe shortage of personnel to manage it.”
The number of inmates had skyrocketed, yet the staff available to oversee them had actually decreased due to a prior purge that swept through Stifts.
Deputy Inspector Mayer, who had handled operations, had been demoted to a provincial town, and his associates had met similar fates.
While the purge was understood as necessary for internal control, the remaining staff were overworked.
Shift cycles had become significantly longer, and on emergency days, additional work was required.
“Everyone is struggling with excessive workloads. There isn’t even time to interrogate the prisoners. A proper balance is needed…”
Jekart, listening quietly, let out a faint laugh.
“I don’t think that’s the real reason.”
Erich lowered his teal eyes without responding. Jekart seemed to understand, pulling out a cigarette and placing it in his mouth, though he didn’t light it.
“Why? The organization giving you trouble?”
“…Yes. It seems the level of attention is too high. They requested restraint.”
Indeed, anyone placed in Stifts to exert control who becomes too conspicuous would attract unwanted attention. Sharing secrets brings unwanted scrutiny.
“Reassign the personnel from investigations to internal prison duties. For now, let them focus only on maintaining order.”
“Good idea. Should we also recall the personnel dispatched to Glissen?”
“No. Leave them there for now. Remind them not to move without my permission.”
Though not officially announced, Jekart knew the locations of key resistance leaders, including Perel Monti. He had even identified their hideout in Tarak Village but remained patient, waiting for a bigger target—the last royal of Berg, Crown Prince Bariel, the focal point of the resistance.
“Understood. You know about the field duties tomorrow, right?”
“Yes.”
Erich saluted. As he turned to leave, Jekart called him back. Erich turned with a look that said he had expected it.
Jekart lit the cigarette he had been holding, drawing deeply and holding the smoke before exhaling. After a pause, Erich spoke first.
“…Everything is fine.”
The words were faint, almost hazy, much like the cigarette smoke. Most of the subject and context were omitted, leaving the meaning unclear.
“I’ll take my leave now.”
Still, Jekart let him go, as if he already knew who was where and how they were doing.
The consciousness was blurred like a spreading watercolor. In the quiet darkness, Edith absentmindedly hummed a song she had heard before. The somber melody echoed off the walls.
She opened her eyes. Even now, something obscured her vision, leaving the world dark. Her sight was only freed during meals. Her hands, bound behind her back, were the same.
Edith stopped humming.
How many days had passed?
Immersed in silence, she wondered.
What exactly are they planning to do with me? Why keep me locked up without interrogation?
Her questions were largely powerless; she couldn’t find the answers on her own.
Ha.
With a quiet sigh, Edith stretched her curled-up body slightly. From her feet came the dull clink of metal—a sound of chains she had grown somewhat accustomed to, never removed since her arrival.
Just as she expected the quiet to return, a louder metallic sound came.
Creeeak—
The rusty hinge groaned as the solitary cell door opened.
Faint light filtered through the cloth over her eyes.
Meal time already?
It was still hard for her to gauge time, but this felt too early.
Edith struggled to lift her frozen body. Coldness was everywhere—the floor, the wall she leaned against. The place was damp and frigid.
The sound of the door closing followed. Edith frowned, realizing no food smell accompanied it.
Not meal time? Then why did the door open?
She bit her lip silently, anxiety creeping over her.
The most unsettling thing was a faint presence—someone had entered her solitary cell.
“Who…?”
The presence, once faint, became clearer. Edith swallowed the words she barely uttered and shrank further, her nerves on edge.
The distance narrowed. Though she couldn’t see, she was certain—mainly from the faint scent of tobacco she caught earlier.
“…Who are you?”
Still, no answer came. The intruder gave only limited clues—through sound or smell. The faint scent alerted her, then the presence vanished.
Silence fell. It was the first time she had experienced such quiet with another person in this place. In this still world, the intruder finally offered another clue: warmth.
A hand, probably on her cheek, felt warm. It gently held her, then clumsily rubbed at some point.
Edith shook her head. The hand lost its gentleness, gripping her chin to prevent her from fleeing. The chains at her feet clanged loudly.
“Ugh!”
Edith let out a short groan in the unknown hand. The struggle ended when she exhausted herself.
Who could it be?
In the now calm hand, Edith thought. A large, warm hand, faintly smelling of tobacco.
As she pondered it, she silently laughed.
It was because of that man who came to mind suddenly.
‘Jekart.’
It was still amusing. To think of him while feeling warmth.
‘His hands were always cold.’
In rain, in snow, the hands she had encountered were always ice-cold—not just from the weather.
Yet she couldn’t shake her thoughts of him.
Always appearing unexpectedly—would he come this time too? A fleeting, almost whimsical guess.
Of course, she knew now he was an executive of Stifts, a man she could never walk beside. But did that make him a complete enemy? She couldn’t answer easily.
The man who had saved her from former allies and made Leon’s snowman—could their relationship be called a curse just because he was part of Stifts?
Her thoughts stopped when the hand left her cheek abruptly. Her body shivered; the warmth replaced by a piercing cold. Even in a place full of cold, the spot once touched felt especially biting.
The intruder withdrew in reverse of their approach. Warmth faded, the scent of tobacco lessened, and the presence receded. Finally, with a creak of the rusty hinge, it was gone completely.
Edith slid down the wall, curled up small, opening her mouth as if to speak, then closing it again.
Jekart.
The unspoken name echoed in her mind.
