~Chapter 11~

Jeckart spotted Edit at a considerable distance from the city hall.

There was a small time gap since he had chased Gisella in the opposite direction and returned, but it wasn’t difficult to find her; her destination was obvious. Besides, he had a car.

The woman was walking weakly through the twilight-covered streets.

From a distance, Jeckart watched her and pulled a cigarette from his pocket. His brows were tightly furrowed.

“S-she said she married early. She loved her husband enough to marry as soon as she became an adult.”

Why did that sentence irritate him so much? Then again, everything about women did. Even “Edit”—that cursed name.

“…Maximilian.”

Probably the name of the husband the woman had loved so much slipped from his dry lips.

It was a pity he was already dead. Had he been alive, Jeckart might have killed him himself—that kind of thought passed through his mind.

He lit the cigarette he had been holding. In the hazy smoke, the tip glowed bright red with every drag.

He wasn’t following her for any special reason. He had searched the house of the woman called Shasha once but had failed to find the Enigma. Surely, there must be some hidden space in that house too, but there wasn’t enough time to search it. That’s why he was following her…

Click.

Jeckart let out a small chuckle at the thought—it seemed pathetic even to himself.

The woman staggered violently at that moment. As a result, the long ash that hadn’t been shaken off fell onto her knees.

Jeckart noticed it when she straightened her back against the wall. With a slightly irritated hand, she brushed it off, leaving pale traces on her pants.

Meanwhile, a military truck transporting prisoners from the camp passed between them. The acrid gray smoke blurred the streets.

Once the truck had completely passed and the woman was visible again, Jeckart threw the cigarette to the ground.

She was crying. Sitting, sobbing uncontrollably.

And for some reason, Jeckart felt an overwhelming emptiness. He almost stepped out of the car to rush over and help her up.

It took all the reason he could muster—sounding the horn as he halted his steps toward her—to stop himself. He ended up standing dumbfounded in the middle of the street.

She now leaned against the wall, burying her face between her knees. Her shoulders trembled slightly, still sobbing. Time felt slow, almost as if it had stopped. Perhaps that’s why he couldn’t move and only stared at her. His pathetic excuses rose like dry dust.

After what felt like a minute or ten, she suddenly lifted her head. Using her pale hands, she quickly wiped her eyes and cheeks. She wobbled slightly but soon stood upright. Then she started walking again. Her cheeks and nose were still red, but there was strength in her steps.

As if she had made some resolve.

Three days passed.

Edit desperately hoped she had been mistaken, but it was confirmed that the entire resistance group who had planned to join them had been captured by Stifts. They had been stopped during a surprise inspection on the train.

As a result, Edit, Perel, Shasha, and Karon gathered in a deeply grim atmosphere.

Perel spoke first, his voice slightly hoarse.

“It seems further support is impossible. Our side’s resistance, including Loris, has been captured, and security has been tightened on every train platform. Smuggling via boat might still be possible, but coming through Glissen will take far too long.”

A heavy sigh, whose owner was unknown, floated over the table. The situation was dire. Yet no one dared suggest giving up. They had to succeed this time to rescue Loris and the others from the camp with Glissen’s help.

Karon asked Edit,

“What about the auditorium situation?”

“The distance from the city hall’s front gate to the auditorium is considerable. It took me over twenty minutes on foot. At least five thousand feet. If we attempted an assassination with guns during the event, we’d be shot on the spot before escaping.”

“What about sniping?”

Shasha asked. Edit closed her eyes and shook her head.

“The auditorium has long curtains on every window. They close them during events to prevent sniping. Shooting from outside is impossible.”

“Then the only remaining method…”

Shasha’s vague statement was finished by Karon.

“Must be a bomb.”

Everyone there knew it but had not voiced it. Because…

“Let’s rule that out for now. The priest bombs we can obtain can’t be remotely controlled; the trigger must be operated manually, as you know, Karon.”

Once the device is triggered, they’d have only ten minutes to escape. That meant it had to be activated during the event. Of course, once the event starts, janitors cannot enter the auditorium.

Someone would have to infiltrate as Stifts, activate the trigger, and escape. Perel, being known, could not do it. With no extra support, the only one capable was… Karon.

So no one had spoken. They couldn’t risk sending the father of an unborn child to certain death.

A brief silence was broken by Karon’s dry laugh.

“You all are too harsh. Don’t you trust me?”

“Karon, it’s not that—”

“I’ll do it.”

“…”

“Leave it to me.”

Karon smiled, kind yet resolute. Edit was momentarily speechless but tried to stop him.

If someone hadn’t quietly squeezed Edit’s hand under the table… That cold hand belonged to Shasha.

With tears in her eyes, Shasha shook her head silently. When the accumulated tears fell and wet her cheeks, Edit’s heart ached.

“…You two really are fools, you know that?”

Sniffling, Shasha wiped her tears and smiled wryly. Karon gently embraced her shoulder.

Facing the wall, Gisella was thoroughly intimidated. She wasn’t naturally timid, but anyone with a gun at their back would be.

Her opponent seemed unlikely to break the agreement, but after three consecutive days, Gisella had not grown accustomed. Worse, she had nothing to say.

After all, how much could they really talk while working together? Moreover, silent Richet only answered when asked, making it difficult to know more about him.

“Oh, today was the same. I was so busy that we couldn’t have a proper conversation…”

“It doesn’t matter; just tell me as it is.”

Swallowing dryly, Gisella closed her eyes. Since he said it didn’t matter, she felt compelled to speak.

“Richet didn’t eat breakfast this morning. He said he overslept. But even so, he looked a little tired.”

“Again?”

“Again… um, ah, at lunch, I noticed he hardly ate his lunch but ate the dessert cookies eagerly. Today’s lunch was just pickled vegetables. He seems picky, maybe that’s why he’s so thin.”

Click.

A faint deflating laugh sounded. At first, Gisella had been startled by such laughter, but now she had learned to take it calmly. Indeed, he often laughed like that when talking about Richet.

“Again?”

“…Again, um… again…”

No matter how hard she racked her brain, that was all she could think of. They then went straight to their respective duties. If she knew what he was curious about, she might have discreetly asked Richet herself…

Eventually, Gisella’s voice, full of fear, trembled.

“…Th-that’s all. Really.”

“…”

“Also, I couldn’t talk earlier because of work. After work, I said goodbye and came here.”

The gun at her back dropped just as her breathing grew heavy and her eyes warmed with tears.

Hearing the man’s footsteps retreat slightly, Gisella let out a long, relieved sigh.

Then, something suddenly came to her mind.

“Ah!”

Involuntarily, she exclaimed, and the man’s retreating steps froze.

Feeling she had created a chance to escape, Gisella bit her lip. But it seemed too late to take it back. The man’s steps were already approaching again.

“What?”

“Well… it’s just my personal thought, but Richet seems to have a somewhat unusual temperament.”

“Be specific.”

“Well, normally, people want to continue what they’re used to. But Richet helps in a different section every day. Things everyone avoids, like wall cleaning or window cleaning.”

“…”

“Every day he switches duties, so he’s been to almost every part of the vast city hall.”

Gisella spoke casually, but the comment caused a shallow ripple in Jeckart’s black eyes.