Chapter 27
Before going out, Edith put on a black coat and pulled her bonnet down low. Her reflection in the mirror looked simple and unremarkable. At this level of plainness, no one in the crowded market would give her a second glance.
After tidying her appearance, she helped Leon, who was sitting nearby, put on his wool hat and scarf. The soft, warm items were all ones she had knitted herself last autumn.
The child’s dark eyes curved into a crescent shape.
“Do you like going to the market with Mom that much?”
“Yeah.”
Leon nodded cheerfully, smiling brightly. His chubby cheeks wobbled adorably. Edith gently brushed his cheek and picked him up.
“Let’s go and eat something delicious, okay?”
Carrying him, she went down to the living room, where Perrel was standing by the front door.
“Are you heading out now?”
“Yes. If you need anything, let me know. I can pick it up on the way back.”
“I’m fine. Just go have a nice time with Leon—it’s been a while.”
“All right.”
“Don’t stay out too late.”
“I’ll be back soon, Perrel.”
Edith gave a calm smile as she brushed past him and opened the door. The dazzling winter sunlight streaming from above made her smile deepen even further.
It had been a very long time since she had gone out. Even though they were in a neutral country, she had to be careful since she was still a wanted person. Today, however, she had decided to go out for Leon’s sake.
Lately, Leon had been downcast. He would burst into tears over small things and throw little tantrums.
‘Keeping an active child cooped up at home all the time…’
Feeling guilty, Edith gently stroked the back of the child in her arms.
‘I should buy Leon some clothes and shoes… Perrel’s shoes seem a little worn, too. Ah, but I don’t know his size… Maybe it’s similar to Mac’s.’
Lost in thought as they walked, Leon wriggled and squirmed in her arms.
“Leon, do you want to walk?”
“Yeah.”
Edith carefully set him down. When she held out her hand, his tiny hand grasped her index finger tightly.
The snow from a few days ago hadn’t fully melted, leaving patches on the ground. Leon walked cheerfully through it, occasionally stopping, fascinated by something.
“Be careful not to slip, okay?”
“Okay.”
The child’s steps became more cautious, and Edith matched her pace to his. They weren’t far from their destination, and soon they arrived at the market.
“Take a look around! Fresh arrivals today!”
“This way, please!”
“What are you looking for?”
“This is too expensive—can you lower the price a bit?”
The streets were noisy with vendors calling out and bargaining. In the crowded market, Edith gripped Leon’s hand a little tighter. Leon, who had just managed to get a candy he had been eyeing, frowned as he looked up at her with a cheek full of sweets.
“Mom.”
“Hmm? Do you want me to carry you if it’s hard?”
“No… it hurts.”
“Oh, sorry. It’s so crowded I must have held you too tightly without realizing. Sorry about that. Make sure to hold Mom’s hand tightly, okay?”
“Okay.”
After walking a bit more, Edith spotted the yarn shop she had been looking for.
“Welcome!”
Upon opening the door, the shop owner, in the middle of chatting with an employee, greeted her. The owner seemed briefly interested but returned to their conversation when Edith said she’d just browse. The somewhat indifferent treatment suited her just fine, so Edith quietly looked at the yarn.
‘How much yarn would I need to knit a sweater?’
She planned to knit a new sweater for Leon. Seeing how quickly he was growing, she realized she would need quite a bit of yarn.
‘Blue would look nice.’
Following the neatly displayed skeins, Edith approached the counter where the shop owner was. The conversation between the owner and the employee became audible.
“Things are getting tense. Prices for necessities keep rising.”
“Yeah. Feels like a war might break out.”
“No way.”
“Judging by Hasmal’s behavior, it seems like an invasion is only a matter of time. Better to strike while we can rather than just sit back and get taken.”
“True. All neighboring countries except ours are at war with Hasmal.”
“Yes. Right now, even the big ones like us are hard to confront, so they’re maintaining peace. But how long will that last? Once the current wars wrap up, it’ll be our turn next. Might as well team up with the surrounding countries and strike Hasmal—it seems more likely to succeed.”
Unlike the cautious shop owner, the employee was aggressive, almost showing open disdain for Hasmal. Given the recent public sentiment, it wasn’t unusual—everyone had become aware of Hasmal’s unethical actions.
“They say over ten thousand civilians died in that camp.”
“Ugh. Hermann Miller got what was coming to him. Tsk, tsk.”
Edith consciously calmed her nerves and kept her eyes fixed on the display, pretending the conversation didn’t concern her.
“I’ll take this one.”
She finally picked the yarn. Thick, soft, it seemed perfect for a warm sweater.
The shop owner, who had been deep in conversation, finally looked up.
“Do you need it wrapped?”
“No, just put it in a paper bag. How much is it?”
While taking the money and handing back the change, the shop owner continued chatting with the employee. Both worried about what was coming but agreed that war seemed inevitable. Edith silently shared their concern.
‘The question is… when.’
Glysenn was still postponing negotiations. They kept saying winter war is too harsh and to discuss it in spring.
The problem was that Edith couldn’t wait that long. Once the new camp under construction was completed, she couldn’t even imagine how much more blood of the Bergins would be shed.
“Goodbye.”
Hiding her inner thoughts behind a dry expression, Edith left the shop. Coming out from the warmth, the winter wind hitting her cheeks felt even colder.
Would spring ever come?
She exhaled as she looked at a pile of snow trampled, crushed, and losing its whiteness on the side of the street.
Marcus had called Zekart to his office, and he received an unexpected document.
“What’s this?”
“Can’t you tell by looking?”
“I still don’t know.”
“It’s a commission.”
Even with Marcus’s polite explanation, Zekart’s expression remained stiff.
“Do you think this makes sense?”
“Why?”
“Ha, what the hell…”
[Commission. You are hereby appointed Chief Inspector of Stifts, Hasmal Republic.]
“Suddenly a Chief Inspector?”
“Not suddenly. It’s not the first time someone from our side has taken a high government position.”
Marcus spoke as if it were no big deal. In truth, he was right. They had previously replaced high-ranking officials with their own operatives. That was how their influence in Hasmal had strengthened.
Until now, Zekart had given it little thought. Perhaps the goal of the organization was simply to control Hasmal—just a quiet guess.
But now, it was his responsibility.
“Why me?”
“You’re the most natural choice. Few of our operatives have executive positions in Stifts.”
“You have one too.”
“Yeah, I don’t know, I’m just following orders…”
“No.”
Zekart cut him off firmly.
“I’m not doing it. Absolutely not.”
“Expected. Fine, I’ll pass it on. It’s not mandatory anyway.”
Marcus accepted it as if it were the response he expected, then handed over another document. Zekart frowned, irritated beyond mere annoyance.
“What’s this?”
“A report form. You know the city hall terror incident and who the Hermann Miller culprit was, right?”
“So?”
“It means you are also responsible for not handling the target in time.”
“Making me write a report? People will think I’m a civil servant.”
“Well, not too different, right?”
“Yeah, right…”
Finally, Zekart accepted the documents. As he turned to leave, Marcus shook his head in disbelief.
“You’re something else. You don’t even ask. No curiosity at all.”
“About what?”
“Rachel. She’s supposed to have given this to you. Your partner, Rachel.”
Only then did Zekart notice her absence and muttered a dry, “Ah.” Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen Rachel recently. When had that started…? As he tried to recall, Marcus waved his hand.
“Never mind.”
“Something wrong? Haven’t seen her lately.”
“Who knows? Maybe she doesn’t want to meet you much.”
“So why?”
“Why ask me? Ask her directly.”
Zekart raised an eyebrow. Marcus’s indifferent tone was exasperating, considering he had brought it up.
In the slightly cold silence, Marcus added:
“Ask her directly. Who knows? Maybe she’ll confess something—love, guilt, who knows.”
A faintly sardonic smile appeared on Marcus’s lips.
