Chapter 2

The world had changed.

As Edith walked through the barren streets at dawn, she felt the weight of that reality all over again.

It wasn’t just that the long, grueling war had finally ended.

In the three years since, her entire world had changed in ways both visible and invisible.

Unlike her husband Maximilian, whose death in action had at least been reported, her older brother Erniel had simply vanished—no word, no news, nothing.

The agony of that uncertainty had worn down Edith’s mother, Elise, who took to her sickbed and, not long after, never rose again.

That was just a month before the war’s end.

Erniel returned only three months after the armistice, freed in a prisoner exchange following the successful negotiations with Hasmal.

The brief joy of regaining her only remaining family member quickly faded. Erniel suffered from severe PTSD—relentless fits and panic attacks hollowed out his mind, and within a year, he ended his own life.

And so, Edith had lost her entire family to the war.

“How heartless everyone is…”

With that fleeting, bitter thought, Edith hurried through the thick morning fog.

At such an early hour, the only soul she passed was a lamplighter just starting his rounds.

Edith’s outings were always either at the break of dawn or late at night—times when she was least likely to be seen.

There was a reason for that: she could no longer afford to be recognized by anyone.

After crossing a wide avenue, Edith reached a narrow alley.

She looked around to be certain no one was nearby, then pulled her bonnet lower over her face before turning in.

The alley was dark and narrow, filled with a faint stench from the drains.

She walked quickly, past rows of tightly packed buildings, and finally stopped in front of a red brick house stained with age.

Pulling a key from her pocket, she let herself in.

Inside was an utterly ordinary family living room.

She passed through the rather spacious living room and stopped in front of a steel cabinet.

Even though she’d walked the shadowed alley with an air of calm, Edith’s nerves were visibly taut now.

Holding her breath, she gave the cabinet a sharp pull.

Creeeaaak—

With a grating sound, the cabinet swung open like a door.

It was, in fact, a hidden passage to a back room, concealed by the furniture in the front.

Edith stepped quietly through the opening, making sure to close the cabinet behind her just as it was.

Of course, a makeshift trick like this would never fool Hasmal’s secret police, the Stifts, if they ever raided the place. But it might buy them a little time.

She moved down the dark corridor and soon arrived in a small parlor.

Only a single gas lamp glowed—just enough not to let any light spill out, casting a dim yellow haze through the room. As Edith took off her bonnet and cape shawl, a familiar voice spoke up.

“Welcome back.”

It was Perel, with his deep brown hair.

“Yes. I just watched the group board the train. Nothing happened here, right?”

Perel gave a sheepish smile.

“You were only gone for about two hours.”

“Still.”

Edith hung her bonnet and cape on the wooden coat stand.

“If this operation succeeds, the Stifts’ searches will get even more intense.”

“…”

“We need to move the safehouse abroad—Glyssen, ideally—as soon as possible.”

Perel’s voice grew heavy. Edith nodded silently.

Her homeland, Berg, had fallen to Hasmal after the war.

That was to be expected after a defeat, but what followed went far beyond: Hasmal had expanded its territory by invading its neighbors, deposed Berg’s monarchy, seized property, killed children, r*ped women.

There were only two ways most people responded to Hasmal’s cruelty: resignation, or resistance.

Edith had chosen the latter, thanks to Perel. On the verge of sinking into despair from so much loss, she’d been sought out by Perel—her brother Erniel’s old friend and comrade.

‘For Berg. For Erniel, for Captain Lindell, for all lost to this war—will you stand with me?’

And so, Edith joined the resistance.

She sold off her inheritance to help Perel lay the foundation.

Over time, many young people from Berg joined their cause; even the last surviving prince of Berg’s royal family, Prince Bariel, had recently become part of their ranks.

The resistance was finally strong enough to pressure Hasmal.

But Hasmal didn’t just sit by. As the movement grew, they built political prisons and formed the Stifts, rounding up anyone they suspected. In the capital Belen, it was said that dozens of military trucks hauled Berg’s people away every day, packed like livestock.

“And Leon?”

“He’s in the bedroom. Woke up crying, but calmed down quickly.”

Edith replied, a bit apologetic.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. He’s gotten braver—his crying never lasts long.”

“It’s your skill, Perel. When you marry, your wife will love you all the more for how you handle Leon.”

“Introduce me to someone first.”

Edith let out a soft, ticklish laugh. As it faded, Perel stood up.

“I’ll head up now.”

“All right.”

“Oh, the ledgers are on your desk.”

“So that’s your way of telling me not to rest, huh?”

“No, that’s not—”

“I’m kidding, Perel. I’ll check them right away.”

“Rest well.”

At last, Perel headed up the stairs to the second floor.

Edith also turned toward her own room.

She would need to check on the sleeping Leon, look over the ledgers, and finish packing.

With every step, the long list of today’s tasks crowded her mind.

***

Every time the iron bed creaked, the obese man beneath panted for breath.

It was because of the woman straddling his hips—a woman far too slender for such a corpulent man.

“Haa…”

“Do you like it?”

“‘Like’ doesn’t even begin to cover it. I’m going crazy.”

“Heh. Feels like heaven, doesn’t it?”

The woman gave a soft laugh.

The man could no longer even answer, only gasp for air.

Just then, the woman lifted her hands and let down her tightly bound hair. A waterfall of red tumbled down her bare back.

As her hands lowered again, a slender needle appeared in her grasp.

She felt a bit sorry for killing the mood, but the appointed time was drawing near.

She glanced at the clock on the wall and moved her hands more quickly.

And then—

“Gurk!”

The man screamed in agony as the needle stabbed his neck.

The woman gazed at his wide, astonished eyes without a flicker of emotion, then pressed the needle in all the way.

The man, convulsing with his eyes rolled back, coughed up frothy blood and went limp in an instant.

“I don’t think you’ll be going to heaven, so I tried to make it feel like it,”

she said, confirming he’d stopped breathing before rising without a backward glance.

She dressed quickly and went to the window.

Even the moon was hidden behind clouds; the world outside was pitch black.

Into that darkness, she willingly leapt.

A black car waited for her below.

The woman got in as if it were second nature, flashing a brief smile at the man in the driver’s seat.

“Did you wait long?”

“Not really. The job?”

“Why do you even ask?”

she replied, bored.

The black-haired man didn’t press for details, just started the car.

“You finished quickly, Jeckart. I thought I’d be the one waiting.”

“I don’t waste time.”

Jeckart glanced at the sweat at the nape of her neck, then asked as if it made sense.

“Clergyman?”

“Yeah. Why, are you jealous?”

Jeckart snorted, lighting a cigarette.

It wasn’t jealousy so much as disgust for her twisted tastes.

When the organization sent an assassination order, it was usually just a name.

You never knew why the target had to die—and choosing the time, place, and method was all up to the assassin.

It was an unspoken rule not to judge each other’s methods.

But Rachel’s style was particularly strange: breaking the target’s taboo before killing them.

If it was a clergyman, during s*x; if it was a politician, while taking a bribe.

Maybe this was how she’d kept her sanity in this line of work for so long—making sure the target deserved to die before killing them.

Otherwise, killing on command would wear down anyone’s soul.

By the time these empty thoughts faded, they’d arrived at Rachel’s hideout.

“Thanks.”

Rachel started to get out, then opened the door again.

“Want to stay over?”

Jeckart let out a dry laugh at the bold suggestion.

“I’ll pass. My stomach isn’t that strong.”

Rachel pouted her lips, unsurprised—he’d never once said yes.

“See you tomorrow—”

Before she could finish, the car sped off into the darkness, kicking up a cloud of dust.