~Chapter 08~
Jekart followed the woman at a slow pace. Perhaps it was because the effects of the medicine still lingered—together with the rushing sound of the waves, his mind kept drifting into a haze.
When Jekart arrived at the house of the woman named Shasha, a member of the resistance, two people were standing out front.
“See you this evening, Shasha.”
“Yes, Ms. Edit. Please be careful on your way back.”
As he watched the two part and walk off in opposite directions, Jekart paused, lost in thought.
Shasha and Edit—both names appeared in the documents.
Fortunately, his hesitation did not last long. Since Shasha’s residence was already known, it made more sense to follow the woman whose whereabouts were still unconfirmed.
Thus, he followed the woman onto a train, eventually arriving at the Caprang Coast.
Is she meeting someone?
Considering she had deliberately come to a winter sea where there would be no one around, it seemed very possible.
Narrowing his eyes, Jekart continued to trail her.
She walked extremely slowly. In the short distance of only a few dozen meters, the sun began to sink. As the light gradually reddened, the woman stopped.
She lingered for a while on the soft white sand where the waves could not reach, then stood up again just as the sunset reached its peak.
Jekart picked up a piece of paper left behind where she had been standing. Fine grains of sand slid softly across its surface.
[To my Maximilian.
I’ve come to Caprang. Even though it’s winter, it’s beautiful here as always. Have you ever seen Caprang in winter? When we came together, it was summer.
To be honest, I don’t really remember whether Caprang in summer was beautiful. Back then, I was too busy stealing glances at your profile to look at the scenery.
To me, summer Caprang is nothing more than what I saw beyond your eyes.
(omitted)
We might meet soon. When that time comes, please don’t scold me for coming too early—just hold me tightly instead. I love you.
Hoping this letter reaches you,
From Edit.]
“…Maximilian.”
Jekart murmured the name under his breath. The letter crumpled slightly in his grasp.
While he was reading, the woman had already moved far away. Jekart quickened his pace, closing the distance in an instant. With each step, the sound of waves slapping against the shore gradually faded.
Though her face was still hidden beneath a black veil, Jekart had a feeling—this woman was the owner of the scissors from that night. As the thought intensified, his breathing grew shallow. The mask covering his nose and mouth felt increasingly suffocating.
At last, Jekart seized her wrist. Pulled by his force, the woman spun around and staggered on the sand.
“Ah!”
A stunned gasp escaped from beneath the veil, faintly revealing the outline of her face.
Jekart’s gaze slowly slid over the veil and down to the woman’s hands, which were fidgeting busily below. Just from the bulge in her pocket, he could tell what she was trying to take out.
The corner of Jekart’s lips tilted slightly.
“Wouldn’t it be better not to take that out?”
“……”
“Scissors aside, I’m not generous enough to spare someone who points a gun at me.”
Her bloodless hand froze in midair. The grip on her other wrist tightened.
“Then… will you spare me?” she asked.
“…If you stay still.”
His voice, barely above a whisper, rode the cold, dry wind and fluttered her veil.
Around that time, the sun—having dyed the world rose-red—was completely swallowed by the sea.
In the dimming coastal dusk, Jekart reached out and removed the woman’s hat along with the veil.
“What are you—!”
Thick golden hair spilled down like a waterfall, fluttering in the wind.
Edit froze, caught mid-breath. It was only her hat that had been removed, yet she felt as though she had been stripped bare. Partly because it had been forcibly taken from her—but also because of the man’s black eyes, which seemed to waver for a fleeting instant.
She couldn’t be sure. Before she could fully register that subtle tremor, her vision went dark.
A large hand covered her eyes—and even the bridge of her nose. Unable to fathom why the masked man would bother covering her eyes, Edit trembled faintly.
With one sense blocked, the others sharpened.
The warmth of the hand over her eyes, the faint sound of a suppressed chuckle, the man’s scent drawing closer—then suddenly pulling away.
Captured by him, Edit could no longer perceive her surroundings.
The incessant wind, the waves shattering against rocks—every clamor of the world disappeared, leaving only the man before her. As though he alone were her entire world.
And it was the same for Jekart.
Pale golden hair, shimmering golden eyes slightly damp, fair skin flushed with color, lips unusually red.
The woman’s face—revealed without the veil—closely resembled the image Jekart had long imagined.
Still, just in case, he brushed a hand near her flushed cheek and covered her eyes once more. Beneath his palm, her damp eyelashes trembled like a butterfly’s wings, tickling his skin.
It was merely her sight, yet the fact that he was suppressing a part of her stirred a subtle sense of fulfillment within him. A desire surged—to restrain even the faint breaths leaking past those soft lips.
He realized he had nearly acted on that impulse when their noses were about to touch—only noticing because the woman flinched and leaned back.
For a brief moment, their tangled breaths burned hot and sweet.
Jekart straightened his bent posture and lowered his hand, freeing her vision. The woman slowly lifted her half-lowered eyelids.
Their gazes tangled in the sea breeze.
Edit’s lips parted slightly—lips that under normal circumstances she would have moistened with her tongue, but now were too dry to do so.
“…I stayed still. Will you spare me now?”
Heh.
Jekart let out a faint laugh.
It was amusing—this woman who begged to be spared every time they met, and himself, who actually spared her.
“Yes.”
For a moment, the woman’s eyes sank into deep thought—perhaps pondering, perhaps observing him. Whatever the reason, Jekart’s gaze remained fixed on her.
That was when her small hand, clutching her skirt, slowly reached toward him.
Just before it touched his mask, his low voice slipped out.
“If you see it, you’ll die.”
Her hand halted.
Her eyes shifted briefly.
Then, as her hand moved again, her eyes stopped—hovering just short of the mask.
At that distance, she whispered softly,
“I won’t look.”
Encouraged by his silence, Edit gently stroked the surface of his mask. As her fingertips traced the prominent bridge of his nose and the outline of lips beneath, her body began to tremble.
No way…
A chill ran down her spine—and just then, the man abruptly stepped back. Her bloodless hand remained suspended in the air, shaking faintly.
The man who had appeared so suddenly departed just as he had come. Instead of farewell, he placed her hat back on her head, then slowly turned away.
Only after he had gone did the forgotten wind and waves soak back into her body.
The man gradually shrank into the distance, becoming a small dot before disappearing entirely. Staring blankly after him, Edit suddenly collapsed onto the sand.
Her entire body shook like a trembling tree.
She had felt it the first time they met—but she had dismissed it as imagination. No matter how she thought about it, it couldn’t be true.
But now—
The man’s black eyes she had seen up close, the nose and lips she had felt with her fingertips—they were unmistakably…
Maximilian’s.
That can’t be…
Edit shook her head violently.
They just looked similar. I only really saw his eyes, after all.
She tried to deny the absurd thought rising within her. Yet doubt—no, hope—kept surging up.
Then what about his voice? That was the same too.
When she added in the details she hadn’t noticed that night—overwhelmed as she had been by fear and caution—the conclusion became increasingly impossible to ignore.
Perhaps… just perhaps… he might still be alive.
Looking back, there had been too many strange things.
First of all, the records kept at the Army Ministry.
His age, origin, career—even his family relations were all different from what Edit knew. Even the photograph was wrong. The hair and eye color matched, but nothing else did.
At first, she thought he had deceived her. Given his position, perhaps he hadn’t been able to tell even his own family the truth.
But—
“We found signs of tampering in Captain Lindell’s files. We nearly missed it, but Martin noticed. The difference is extremely subtle, but according to the analysis, unlike the other soldiers’ records, Captain Lindell’s documents were created relatively recently.”
That was when Edit realized it.
Someone had deliberately erased Maximilian from the world.
