Chapter 6

“Woman?”

When Zechart first asked about this, Markus had looked a little surprised.

“Perel Monty had a woman?”

“Yeah. And even a child.”

That’s odd. He was definitely listed as single.

Markus kept tilting his head in confusion, but just a few days later, he brought some follow-up information.

“Here. The thing you asked about last time.”

“……”

“I’ve pulled together just the women identified so far among the Berg resistance. I’ll leave it here, so take a look when you can.”

Zechart’s gaze flicked indifferently over the folder Markus left as he hung from the pull-up bar, doing chin-ups.

After completing the set number of reps he’d planned, Zechart finally dropped down from the bar. But unlike usual, he didn’t head straight for the shower. His patience for leaving the folder unopened had lasted only as long as his chin-ups.

With hands a little impatient, he flipped through the documents. Muscles slick with sweat rippled across his body.

Bailey, Sasha, Karin…

Most of the files listed common names and basic info—some had black-and-white photos attached here and there.

For each photo, Zechart covered the bridge of the nose with his finger. Then he clicked his tongue softly.

“There’s no way I’d recognize her.”

All he’d seen under the bonnet brim was the lower face, and even that only as a blurred outline in the dark. Even meeting her in person, he might not recognize her—there was no way he could identify her from some grainy black-and-white photo.

Luckily, there weren’t that many to go through. He’d just have to check each one in person.

With that tiresome plan in mind, Zechart finally headed to the shower.

On the very last page of the folder he’d left behind, the name “Edith Lindel” was written.

A moment later, under the pouring stream of water, Zechart suddenly felt a sharp sting. It didn’t take long for him to realize it was from the wound on his shoulder that still hadn’t healed.

Turning off the shower, Zechart slowly traced the rough scab that had formed over the injury. And naturally, he thought of the culprit who had left such a mark on him.

Bailey, Sasha, Karin, and… Edith.

That woman could very well be one of those names.

Maybe because he remembered her more through touch than sight, his memories of her were mostly tactile.

Smooth, hot, and soft…

As he reflected on that, he suddenly felt something salty at his fingertips. It was blood, a sensation all too familiar to Zechart.

The scab, which had barely been hanging on, had been torn off by his own unconscious force.

Tch.

With a short, wry laugh, Zechart picked up the shower again.

The sting of the water running over his wound prickled at his nerves—just like that woman did.

***

After a whole day on the train, Edith arrived in Belen, the capital of Hasmal, just as the sun was setting.

The wind in Belen, now slipping into early winter, was a bit chilly. Fragments of brittle fallen leaves, carried by the wind, twined around Edith’s skirt.

Wearing a hat with a black veil, Edith hurried out of the crowded platform alongside Perel.

Perel flagged down a hansom cab waiting outside the station and guided her inside. Sitting side by side in the cramped seat, they might have looked like newlyweds.

“It’ll be a bumpy ride. Hold on tight.”

Edith gave a slightly nervous smile from beneath her veil.

Rattle. The carriage began to move.

“Is this your first time in Hasmal?”

“No.”

That was all she said, but Perel smiled as if he understood.

“You must have come here with your husband before, then.”

“How did you know?”

“Because almost everything outside your daily life, you did with him.”

Edith felt a little embarrassed that he guessed so quickly.

“But this time you’re only half right.”

“What?”

“I was with him then, but I actually came alone.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

“My goodness, that’s pretty bold.”

Looking at Perel’s surprised expression through the veil, Edith fell into her memories.

“It was always my dream to travel abroad alone. Back then, it was before the war, so relations between Hasmal and our country were fairly amicable.”

Of course, she had no idea at the time that Hasmal was already preparing for war and that security at the border was being tightened.

So Edith had set out alone, despite Elise’s fierce opposition. She’d only been allowed to go because she promised to stay with a distant relative living in Hasmal.

In any case, she thought she’d planned carefully—though she soon realized those plans only covered the tourist spots. What was supposed to be a smooth trip hit a huge problem as soon as she crossed the border. She was detained at a checkpoint.

“No one believed that a woman had come traveling alone. Even when I said I was on my way to a relative’s house.”

“I probably wouldn’t have believed you either.”

“I was stuck there for about three days with nowhere to go, until he heard about it and came, since he was working as a security guard at the embassy at the time.”

“Oh, so that’s when you first met him?”

“Yes.”

Recalling the memory, Edith’s cheeks flushed slightly.

“By then, I’d wasted so much time that I didn’t even have time to visit my relative’s house. All my plans were ruined, and I was just killing time near the border, about to turn back. He heard my situation and said there was somewhere nearby I should see, and took me to the sea.”

“The sea? Where?”

“Kaprang.”

“Ah—”

Perel clapped softly.

“I know where that is too. It’s famous for its sandy beaches. It’s close to Belen as well.”

“That’s right.”

Even now, just thinking back to that time made Edith’s heart race. The scales of the sea glowing in the sunset, the sound of crashing waves—those were beautiful, but the most breathtaking thing was the profile of Maximilian quietly gazing out at that scene.

If she had to name the brightest moment of her life, Edith would choose that one—Maximilian in that moment.

The man she fell in love with at first sight, the one who kept her up night after night, unable to sleep.

‘I ‘ll write to you.’

Come to think of it, she had said her farewell to Maximilian that way back then, just as she had when she sent him off to war.

Suddenly, a wave of loneliness washed over her.

Edith opened the window a little.

The sun had completely set, and the air was colder than before.

“If you have the time, you should visit Kaprang while you’re here.” Perel, sensing Edith’s mood, spoke gently.

There was no reply.

***

“It’s been a while, Zechart.”

At Doctor Heinrich’s greeting, Zechart responded with a stiff nod.

“It’s only been two weeks.”

“Heh, two weeks isn’t exactly a short time, is it?”

Heinrich was a psychiatrist who saw Zechart for a session every two weeks—a sort of benefit provided by the organization for its members. Especially in Zechart’s case, since he had lost his memory.

With wrinkled hands, Heinrich guided Zechart to the bed. Soon, the doctor was quietly looking down at the young, healthy body lying there.

“Have you remembered anything since last time?”

“No.”

“And the headaches and insomnia?”

“Yes.”

Hmm. Heinrich made a small sound of concern. He’d been treating Zechart consistently, but in the past three years, there hadn’t been much progress.

Still, Zechart never missed an appointment. Not out of hope, but out of habit.

“It’s always easier to lose something than to get it back. Don’t be too impatient.”

“I’m not impatient.”

“That’s good to hear.”

Heinrich hooked up the IV drip to the vein in Zechart’s arm.

Drip, drip.

The milky fluid began to fall, slowly being infused into Zechart’s body through the tube.

“As always, it’ll take about an hour.”

“……”

“Just relax and sleep. You’ll be done when you wake up.”

As Heinrich said, Zechart’s consciousness gradually began to fade. Sounds grew distant, his vision blurred. His dark eyes, heavy and somber, slowly slid beneath his eyelids.

And when he opened his eyes again, he was submerged in the unfathomable depths of water. The suffocating pressure felt familiar, and Zechart blinked calmly.

This was the sea of the unconscious, where his lost memories were dissolved. Someplace deep, where even he couldn’t reach for a long time.

Heinrich’s medicine always brought him here.

Zechart swam deeper into the abyss, as if it had been painted in black.

Drip, drip.

The thicker the concentration of the drug in his body, the more the submerged memories began to surface.

‘I’ll —‘

He heard a woman’s trembling voice. It reached him faintly, then faded, bringing back to Zechart the very first words he’d always forgotten.

‘I’ll write to you.’

Ah, so that was it.

As the darkness rippled, the owner of the voice appeared, blurred. Trembling lips, the faint red at the tip of her nose, even the smile she forced herself to wear.

‘Come back safely.’

‘I love you.’

All at once, the tranquil waters around him surged violently. The waves grew and grew, swelling into a massive tidal wave that overturned everything.

Crash!

In an instant, the door to his unconscious, which had briefly opened, slammed shut with a resounding echo that shook his soul.

And finally, Zechart lost consciousness completely.