~Chapter 03~
“I—I haven’t done anything wrong! I just did what I was told!”
Hearing the bloodied target’s desperate cries, Jekart felt a twinge of disillusionment. Regardless of age or occupation, the pleas of targets just before an assassination were always the same.
Well. If they were truly innocent, would they have become entangled with an organization like ours and faced such an end?
It wasn’t Jekart’s place to judge, but he doubted it. Even if they were innocent, it was ultimately none of his concern.
Jekart walked slowly behind the target, who was dragging a leg whose shin had been cut off. Walking through a dark, blood-soaked place was far from pleasant.
“D-Don’t come! Please… l-let me live!”
“Sorry, but I’m just following orders too. We’re in the same boat, understand?”
“You devil… one day, you’ll die miserably too. Do you understand? You’ll end up just like me…”
Silence came quickly.
The throat pierced by his blade made several harsh gurgling sounds, then fell still.
“I know that too.”
Jekart muttered the words in a dry voice, though the other could no longer hear him. He didn’t expect his own end to be peaceful anyway—either he would fail the assassination and be killed in turn, or, once his usefulness ended, the organization would dispose of him.
In truth, he hoped it would come quickly. Not that he desired death, but anything would be better than enduring the disillusionment that came with this repetitive cycle.
Jekart pulled the knife he had driven into the target’s neck out with a practiced motion. Hot blood spurted from the severed artery. Amid the sticky streams flowing down the face, the black eyes stood out eerily.
While other members of the organization preferred guns for assassination, Jekart usually relied on knives or swords. He preferred this seemingly cumbersome method because it was quieter.
He hated noise.
After finishing the mission and returning to his hideout, Jekart stripped off his blood-soaked suit and headed straight for the bathroom. The blood that had nearly soaked him entirely left hardened marks across his body like stamps.
Shhh—
Cool water streamed over his broad shoulders and hardened chest, washing away the bloodstains. Yet the remaining scars revealed themselves, terrifying in their presence.
Torn, slashed, and burned marks—likely from torture—but Jekart couldn’t remember when or how they had formed. Three years ago, he had lost memories along with severe injuries and never recovered them.
Lost memories. Or rather, had they really been lost?
He found it confusing. The edges of the missing memories were too sharp, as if cut cleanly by a precise blade—not like a casual accident. Almost like a meticulous surgical incision.
All he remembered now was how to kill efficiently.
Ah, there was one more thing.
“-I will do it.”
A damp voice, belonging to no one he could identify, or directed at no one he could place.
His endless thoughts were abruptly cut off when he heard footsteps outside. He roughly covered his lower body with a towel, shook the wet hair from his face, and stepped out.
A familiar man stood by the front door.
“Marcus.”
Marcus’s role was to support the organization’s members—delivering orders, gathering information on targets, providing it when needed.
Jekart took the paper envelope Marcus handed him with a practiced familiarity.
[From χ.]
At the corner of the envelope, the sender’s name was typed in the strange, slightly distorted style of a typewriter.
“If you need help, tell me.”
“Sure.”
Marcus smiled faintly. The overhead light reflected off his teeth, which were unnaturally pale—they were all dentures.
Though only in his mid-thirties, Marcus had already started wearing dentures for a trivial reason. Years ago, he had lost a molar on a mission. Thinking one tooth didn’t matter, he ignored it. Over time, the gum collapsed and the surrounding teeth fell as well.
“I’m going.”
Marcus turned away. Jekart’s gaze lingered on his back for a moment.
In truth, Jekart always felt a strange sense of kinship when seeing him. Though the area was different, he had gone through the same process.
The void left by lost memories had, at some point, triggered an emotional collapse.
Even amid the clear misfortune of standing in a desolate ruin, Jekart didn’t recognize it as suffering. Everything was fine, yet also not fine.
Jekart opened the envelope Marcus had brought.
[Perel Monti.]
After confirming the target, he immediately burned the envelope. Twisting in the flames, it turned to black ash and dispersed into the air.
“Perel?”
Edith entered the room carrying two cups of dark coffee. Perel had been nodding off at his desk but immediately stood when he sensed her.
Knowing he hadn’t slept properly for the past three days, Edith gave a faint, regretful smile.
“Sorry, Perel. I didn’t mean to wake you… I just wanted to rest a little in my room.”
“No, Edith, you should rest too. Sleep beside Leon.”
“I’m fine. I need to go out soon anyway.”
“Where… oh!”
Realization instantly dawned on Perel’s previously puzzled expression.
“Ah, today is Friday.”
The first Friday of the month.
It was the day they regularly met with Martin, a resistance intelligence agent. Perel usually handled it, but since his identity was recently exposed to Stifts, it had fallen to Edith.
Perel took a small sip of the coffee Edith offered and smiled bitterly.
“I hope today brings you good news too.”
“…I hope so as well.”
Bitterness colored Edith’s expression as she followed Perel.
“You still miss him, don’t you?”
Though the subject was omitted, Edith nodded silently.
“Yes.”
Maximilian Lindel.
Not like before, when she wet her pillow every night thinking of him. She sometimes forgot him temporarily.
But that was all.
Even if she thought of him fewer times each day, she could never stop entirely.
Edith believed it would always be that way. He would forever be someone who came to mind ten times a day—a person never forgotten.
Most of all, she couldn’t forget him because of the revelations after his death.
“How much have you found out?”
“All Perel knows. No more yet.”
“Understandable. Since he was involved in highly classified work, it’s difficult to access. Even Crown Prince Bariel knows nothing.”
She had discovered a year ago that the man she had assumed was a mere army captain was actually the commander of a special operations unit.
Records left in the army were meticulously forged, as Martin, the resistance agent, had uncovered.
Since then, she had been slowly learning more, but the only confirmed fact was that he commanded a secret special operations unit. The founder and the purpose of the unit remained unknown.
“I’ll try to find out more.”
“No, Perel. Don’t worry. It’s not urgent. Right now, the operation is more important.”
Edith spoke firmly, emphasizing her point.
Maximilian was dead.
Though the reason for his death differed from what was known, and though he might—however improbably—be alive, the person currently breathing beside her was more important.
Precisely, their shining conviction.
“Right now, we only focus on the operation. We haven’t slept properly for three days because of it. We must succeed.”
Perel finally gave a resigned smile.
“Yes.”
She was always spirited, even having lost her entire family—it was sometimes remarkable.
“Ah! I must get going.”
Edith finished her half-cooled coffee and quickly stood.
“Please take care of Leon, Perel.”
“Yes. Be careful.”
Offering a warm smile as thanks, Edith hurried out.
It was 3 a.m.—perfect for moving stealthily.
Edith, dressed with a bonnet and cape, crossed the living room toward the cabinet when a faint sound made her stop abruptly.
Creeeak—
A slightly chilling sound from a window hinge that no amount of oiling would fix.
Though normally imperceptible, her senses were heightened in the hideout, and the sound came from Leon’s room. Her nerves tightened.
‘Did I mishear?’
Edith stood still for a moment, then cautiously continued walking—not toward the cabinet, but toward Leon’s room. Hoping her growing sense of dread was unfounded.
Moments later, she opened the door. Her hand shook slightly on the handle. In the dark room, she closed the door behind her.
Click.
The dim gaslight from the living room fell over a small figure on the bed, then was blocked entirely. Only then did Edith see the owner of the movement she had sensed.
A large silhouette standing by the window, backlit by faint moonlight.
An intruder.
“…!”
