Chapter 32
Before preparing the meal, Edith placed warm drinks in front of the two people sitting side by side at the table. Mulled wine for the man, and milk for Leon.
“Drink up, Leon. You’ll catch a cold.”
She didn’t say anything to the man. From the corner of her eye, she saw his large hand still not fully thawed as it wrapped around the glass.
Edith turned away. Since this wasn’t a planned reception, what she could serve was something very ordinary.
Soup topped with finely crushed crackers, dried meat, and a bit of bread.
“Thank you for the meal.”
“Yes, Leon. Enjoy.”
“……”
“And… you too.”
Her awkward words were met not with a reply but a soft clatter of cutlery.
Setting down her spoon, Edith gazed quietly at the man before her. He was looking at his plate, which made it possible to study him without being noticed.
Under the warm lighting, he seemed almost like a still life—cold and sharp. It was an impression she had never once associated with Maximilian, who had the same face.
Before she knew it, Edith had become absorbed in him, resting one hand on her chin as she began to study him more seriously.
The more she looked, the more differences appeared compared to her memory of Maximilian. His jawline was slightly more defined, and his build was a bit sturdier. Unlike Maximilian’s always-neatly kept black hair, his bangs naturally fell, slightly covering his straight eyebrows.
Perhaps that’s why he seemed a bit colder, Edith thought.
Though, the differences were very slight.
Edith finally tore her gaze away from the man.
Contrary to her restless thoughts, the meal remained mostly quiet. Leon occasionally bragged about the snowman he had made today, but he seemed tired and fell asleep in his seat right after eating.
Edith roughly finished the meal he hadn’t really eaten and picked him up.
“Wait here a moment.”
She had certainly said that and taken Leon to the bedroom, but when she returned, the man was nowhere to be seen.
Edith opened the front door with a tinge of frustration. The garden was nothing but white. The heavy snow that had started falling again halfway through the meal had already erased any trace of someone passing through. The only thing left behind was the clumsily built snowman.
“I told you to wait…”
There were words she hadn’t yet said.
No matter what his intentions had been, she had to at least tell him she was grateful for what he had done back then…
She felt more regret over words left unsaid than those she hadn’t heard.
After standing there in a daze for a while, her cheeks pale from the cold, Edith slowly closed the door in resignation. It felt as though she had just woken from a dream. Exhausting.
“Hey, long time no see.”
Marcus greeted Rachel, who had appeared after a long while. His pale dentures gleamed between his slightly parted lips.
“The request?”
Marcus handed over the documents he had prepared in advance on the desk.
“Here.”
Rachel silently approached the desk. Her lips pressed firmly together conveyed that she didn’t want to say anything beyond what was necessary.
Of course, Marcus had no intention of respecting that.
“You seem thinner.”
“……”
“Been under stress?”
When he got no reply despite the subtle provocation, he quickly pulled back the hand holding the documents, just before Rachel could reach them. Her green eyes, now sharp with irritation, seemed like they could pierce him.
“Don’t play games. Hand it over.”
“Well, speaking of which… you’d be embarrassed if someone cared. Have you met χ?”
“Yes.”
“And did you get the answer you wanted?”
“Could you just shut up for once?”
Marcus chuckled softly. He wasn’t particularly upset, but Rachel’s intense reaction was amusing. Finally, he handed the documents to her—if he teased her any longer, he might really get shot.
Rachel began reviewing the documents. The paper made a faint rustling sound as she flipped through it on the desk.
“What, that’s all?”
“Yeah.”
“Who said they were curious about personal info?”
Rachel had come, thinking that perhaps the location of “that woman” had been revealed after hearing that some of the main suspects behind the city hall terror had been caught—but the documents Marcus handed over were just slightly more detailed profiles than before.
“There’s no choice. We haven’t found out anything yet.”
“Why? You’ve been interrogating them for days. How can you not know yet?”
“They can’t torture the women, even if they can deal with the men.”
“Why not?”
“Haven’t you read the news? Internationally, Hasmal is being criticized for persecuting even pregnant women. They’re heavily publicizing that the captured resistance member is a pregnant woman. They’re under pressure not to conduct extreme interrogations or torture.”
“Huh. Since when did they start being so cautious?”
“When politics gets involved, it’s always troublesome.”
Even Hasmal couldn’t completely ignore international criticism, especially while Glissen remained neutral.
Multiple international organizations were urging them to intervene. Pushing further might provoke real consequences. If a large country like Glissen joined simultaneously while they were already engaged in multi-front conflict, Hasmal would suffer significant losses.
“So you’re placating the terrorists for now? How convenient.”
“For now, yes. Anyway, this kind of controversy will die down quickly.”
“Ha.”
Marcus’s gaze flicked to Rachel’s thumb, brushing past her increasingly anxious face.
‘She’s about to start biting it.’
As expected, Rachel began gnawing at her thumb tip. It was a habit she always did when nervous.
“Don’t you have some time?”
“……”
“Why so urgent all of a sudden?”
Instead of answering, Rachel spat out the thumb she had been biting. The shortened nail made it sting. No matter how often she regretted it, her thumbnail never grew long.
“You said we’d wait until Zekart dealt with it anyway.”
“……”
At first, Rachel had planned to do just that—if only she hadn’t noticed his unease that night.
‘If you can’t handle it, I’ll have to. But know this: I show no mercy when eliminating a target, not even to those around them.’
The man, usually emotionless, cracked at that moment—specifically at “those around them.” Still, she had tried to hold back. To Zekart, she was always the weaker one. She didn’t want to upset him. Yet, damn it, she couldn’t forget.
The black eyes that had wavered in that moment.
‘…Rachel.’
The voice, extremely low, had shifted something in her heart.
“…Marcus.”
“Yes?”
“Where did you say they were?”
“Who, Caron Schultz?”
“Yes. And Sasha Schultz.”
“They’re at Belen Prison…”
Marcus, who had been speaking absentmindedly, suddenly paused. His pale eyes narrowed.
“You don’t mean…”
After holding Rachel’s gaze for a moment, Marcus frowned sharply.
“Don’t interfere and mess this up.”
“What?”
“You’re saying you’ll interrogate them yourself, right? Aren’t you?”
Rachel smiled innocently, like a child with pure mischief.
“Not at all. I just want to give them a chance to repent, as a cleric under the direct authority of the Vatican.”
“…What?”
“Who knows? Maybe, touched by the saintess’ grace, they’ll confess their crimes themselves.”
“Ha.”
Ignoring the bewildered Marcus, Rachel briskly turned and left.
“Hey, hey! Stop! Hey!”
Marcus finally snapped out of it and called after her, but Rachel had already disappeared beyond the front door.
After a moment’s thought, Marcus returned to his desk with a faint chuckle.
In the end, it seemed he had chosen to remove “that woman” indirectly. If he intervened directly, he would earn Zekart’s displeasure, so he would rely on Stifz.
‘She’s bound to stir trouble out of sheer concern.’
Marcus clicked his tongue coldly.
Why was she so anxious? She had already experienced firsthand that no matter what she did, she couldn’t recover lost memories.
“Well, she’ll handle it herself.”
After all, she was exceptional at interrogating and would find the answers—one way or another.
