Chapter 45
“When can I leave here?”
Edit asked, her head buried in the blanket. She had to stay lying down until the oil on her back dried. Zekart, reading a book beside her, answered calmly.
“About a month.”
He estimated that by then, not only Schultz and his wife but also Perel Monti’s trial and execution would be completed.
“Then… I go back to the old solitary room?”
“No. I said you can leave, but I never said you actually can go.”
Edit raised her head in disbelief, her brows slightly furrowed. The person responsible for this sat beside her, reading his book with a perfectly calm expression.
“So… you’re telling me to stay here all this time?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
His eyes, which had been gliding over the words, briefly strayed. Black eyes wandered across the blank white page as if lost in thought, then slowly shifted to meet Edit’s. When their eyes met, the tension in her gaze made his twitch slightly.
Zekart felt his resolve harden at every reaction of the living, breathing woman next to him—her anger, her astonishment, her fear.
“Until I don’t want it anymore.”
So, at the perfect time when he could be cruel and indifferent, when he didn’t need to worry about the scars still left on her body.
Edit’s frown deepened at his words.
“That’s not fair. Who even does that? Who are you really? How did you even get me out of there…?”
As she fumed, Edit noticed his gaze shift. She realized that it had landed just near her chest, revealed slightly through the blanket as she moved to argue.
Quickly, she buried herself back under the blanket.
“W-Where are you looking?!”
“I wasn’t looking. It just… showed.”
“…Pervert.”
He chuckled softly, that Maximilian-like laugh, and turned his gaze back to his book. Edit glanced at him, pouting slightly.
Silence slowly settled around them. And in that quiet, her hidden worries crept back—like his position in Stiftz, and whether it was truly safe to be with him so casually. Most of all, her thoughts turned to Leon.
Feeling melancholy, Edit hugged the blanket and slowly sat up. Her golden hair fell down her back like a waterfall.
Turning her back to him, she put on the dress she had taken off. Then she walked slowly toward the large front window where moonlight spilled in. Her hands brushed the cold glass as she took in the scene outside. The night was clear. The moon was so bright that the stars barely showed, but the garden looked clearer than ever. The yellowed dry grass, the snow piles that hadn’t melted yet, and the still-green evergreens.
Edit turned around when she felt his presence behind her. She saw the tall man’s chest.
He reached a hand to her neck, lifting her chin slightly so their eyes could meet. The gaze brushing her prominent Adam’s apple finally reached his black eyes.
It still felt like looking at the night sky. The faint gold reflected in the black surface looked almost like a moon.
“Zekart.”
“Yes.”
When she called, he answered softly. Edit decided to ask the question she had been wanting to ask.
“Can I ask you something?”
Zekart smiled faintly.
“You sound like you wouldn’t ask if I said no.”
“….”
“Ask.”
After a brief hesitation, Edit spoke.
“…I want to know about the outside world. Specifically, the Berg resistance.”
Since being imprisoned, she had received no news of the outside. The world outside must be moving frantically, but Edit had no clue.
“I’m not sure it’s right to ask you this. You are… Stiftz.”
“….”
“But you’re the only person I can ask.”
At her calm words, he briefly averted his gaze. Then he answered.
“Better not to know.”
“Zekart.”
Edit said his name a little louder, with emphasis.
“If it’s difficult to answer about the resistance, I’ll ask differently. About Leon… my child.”
“….”
“Do you know anything about my child?”
If Stiftz knew the news of Leon, whom Perel had taken, it would mean something had happened to him. Edit’s eyes filled with tension as she waited for his reply.
Fortunately, for this question, he gave a clear answer.
“Safe.”
Edit let out a small, relieved smile. The answer was brief, but clear enough for now.
“Thank you.”
She turned her gaze back toward the night sky outside. Pale moonlight bathed her face.
When the woman beside him breathed more deeply, Zekart closed his book. He didn’t remember any of the story he’d read. All he remembered were the small sounds of her voice, her movements, and then her breathing falling quiet. Clearly, he had spent the night reading her, not the book.
Lying on his side with his head propped on one arm, he studied her sleeping face. On closer look, it wasn’t even extraordinarily beautiful—maybe.
Or… was it beautiful?
The smooth curve from forehead to nose was lovely. Her long eyelashes were full, and her small, plump lips were unusually red.
Yes, she was beautiful.
Zekart smiled quietly, then, without realizing, reached out to tap her smooth nose. She stirred slightly, frowning, then turned to curl up against him. Whether it was chasing warmth in her sleep or instinct, Zekart froze at the contact.
Part of him felt a little frustrated. He had spent sleepless nights, yet she slept so soundly—so defenselessly.
Watching her peaceful face, he felt a strong desire.
Should he take her?
Take the one he could have freely, as much as he wanted?
Would that quench this burning thirst?
Normally, this wouldn’t even be a question, but it lingered stubbornly in his mind. In the end, without resolving anything, Zekart let out a long sigh and got up. Even then, he was annoyed with himself for moving quietly, afraid of waking her. But looking back at the past few days, his guilt only deepened.
Feeling restless, he sat at the tea table by the window. He took out a cigarette, but didn’t light it. Another one of his countless, foolish actions recently.
The unlit cigarette rested on the table as his sudden desire cooled a little. He planned to return to bed soon. There wasn’t much time before morning, and maybe he could enjoy her warmth just a little longer.
As he walked, he suddenly stopped. His gaze landed on the hanger next to the bed—specifically, his jacket hanging there.
He had completely forgotten the jacket he wore three days ago. And the letter from χ tucked inside it.
“I must be insane.”
This had never happened before. He wasn’t especially loyal to the organization, but the mission had always been his priority. Yet, during these days with her, Zekart had forgotten the mission, the organization, and reality itself.
Tsk.
He clicked his tongue and went to hang the jacket in front. Reaching into the pocket, he felt the crumpled paper.
[From χ.]
The gray dawn light seeped over the oddly typed letters, casting a faint glow.
Zekart checked the woman on the bed one last time, then moved toward the fireplace, tearing open the envelope. Mission orders had to be destroyed immediately after checking.
He froze when he saw the target name.
[Edit Lindel.]
Unnoticed, the letter had slightly crumpled in Zekart’s hand.
