TLH 50

Chapter 50

For a moment, her eyes froze, then narrowed slightly.

“Why?”

Somehow, she felt a little offended.

He was the one who had intruded into her personal space first, entirely on his own. He was the one who had shown up without warning and startled her, and the one who had bewildered her with his inexplicable words and actions. Yet apparently, he didn’t like having his own personal space invaded.

Edith resumed walking.

The closer she got to him, the stronger the smell of alcohol became.

As he sensed her approaching, Zekart lowered his head as though letting it drop. He had clearly told her not to come closer, yet the woman was already standing right in front of him. She wore a somewhat sulky expression, as though something displeased her.

Looking at her pouty face, Zekart became a little more aware of where he was.

Ah, this is that woman’s room.

He hadn’t intended to come here. So why had he ended up here again?

For the past several days, ever since discovering something new about his memories, he’d been endlessly agonizing over his past.

The past he originally remembered was that he had practically been an orphan, had served as a soldier in Hasmal, and had somehow ended up in the organization. He’d been injured during combat and subsequently lost his memories.

But if that were true, there would have been no reason for the organization to remove all those memories.

Especially the memories from after he’d joined the organization.

Once he’d begun to suspect that what he knew might not be the truth, doubts about the past he’d long since given up on and forgotten began piling up one after another.

And at the very end of those questions, one faint image had begun to emerge.

Edith.

What if the husband you’re talking about really is me? What if all those fantasies I’d seen and imagined were actually real?

Of course, he knew it was a rather far-fetched hope. He’d even personally checked a photograph of Maximilian Lindell.

“How much did you drink?”

A quiet reprimand reached him through his thoughts.

“Things are just a little complicated.”

Unusually, he revealed a glimpse of what was going on inside him.

Alcohol made people less guarded. That was why.

The same was true of her next question.

“Did something happen?”

“Yeah. Something happened.”

Their conversation continued in riddles.

Edith let out a small sigh. It was frustrating. Come to think of it, their conversations had always been like this.

They asked each other questions they couldn’t answer and gave vague replies that explained nothing.

As a result, despite having spent quite a considerable amount of time together, they knew almost nothing about each other.

Edith walked past him and approached the door.

She knocked twice.

Tap, tap.

The voice of the servant, who was always stationed outside, immediately answered.

“Do you need anything?”

“Could you bring us a simple drinking spread?”

“Certainly. What would you like to drink?”

“Um, wine and… Will you be drinking, too?”

Zekart looked at Edith with a somewhat bewildered expression as she casually asked him.

She seemed to wait for his answer for a moment, but then spoke toward the door as though his opinion didn’t matter in the first place.

“Just wine and whiskey, please.”

After placing her order, she returned to the chair opposite him.

Zekart, whose head was tilted slightly to one side from the alcohol, finally spoke.

“Isn’t this a little out of the blue?”

“I have something to discuss with you. It wouldn’t be fair if I were the only one completely sober.”

“Fine.”

Under normal circumstances, he probably wouldn’t have agreed. But his judgment had been dulled by alcohol, leaving him with little resistance.

A short while later, the two of them sat facing each other with drinks for the first time.

Their glasses, one filled with wine and the other with whiskey, clinked awkwardly.

He emptied his glass, while Edith took only a sip or two before setting hers down.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“Just this and that. We’ve never really had a proper conversation, have we?”

Zekart smiled silently.

“We’re not exactly the kind of people who can do that, are we?”

Edith nodded as though she agreed with his assessment.

“That’s true. A Stifts officer and a member of the Resistance. As you said, you and I certainly aren’t in a position to have that kind of relationship. But if that’s the case…”

Edith paused for a moment.

As their eyes met, the golden hue of hers grew deeper.

“You shouldn’t have approached me in the first place.”

Wasn’t it rather cowardly to use their relationship—one that should never have existed in the first place—as an excuse now?

If that was how things were, he shouldn’t have saved her.

He shouldn’t have made a snowman for Rion, and he shouldn’t have applied medicine to her wounds.

Because, given the nature of their original relationship, the only thing they should have shared was hostility.

“So?”

“That’s why I’m saying we should try. Have a proper conversation.”

Zekart gave a faint scoff.

Encouraged by his reaction, Edith asked the first question.

“How did you get me out of prison?”

Since she’d asked him this before, he seemed to have anticipated the question and answered casually.

“You said it yourself. I’m an officer of Stifts.”

“I’m asking because even an officer shouldn’t be able to do something like that.”

Edith pressed him with a determined expression.

From Hasmal’s perspective, she was a notorious criminal who had assassinated key figures in their country and carried out terrorist attacks. She had also attracted considerable public attention.

Judging by his age, he could hardly be anything more than a superintendent or a senior inspector at best. No matter how high-ranking an officer he was, someone of his position shouldn’t have been able to decide her fate so freely.

“I can do it. And I did it because I could.”

“How does that even—… Fine. All right, let’s say that’s true. Then why are you keeping me here?”

“You’re injured. You need treatment.”

“I’m almost completely recovered now. And honestly, I don’t think that’s the real reason. Your side doesn’t exactly care about the injuries of a Berg prisoner, does it?”

His dark eyes lowered slightly, as though he were choosing his words.

“…Because you were injured because of me.”

“What?”

When she asked, unable to understand, a long sigh came in response.

“Just think of it that way. You wouldn’t understand even if I explained.”

Zekart vaguely brushed aside the question.

There was no way she could understand feelings that even he himself couldn’t make sense of.

The same went for the matter involving Rachel.

“You’re really being awfully vague.”

“Just know that I’m doing my best.”

Edith pouted and refilled her now-empty glass.

Zekart filled his own glass as well.

Neither of them suggested a toast, but the two glasses briefly clinked together as though they’d silently agreed to it.

Edith was about to continue with her next question when Zekart quickly emptied his glass and stopped her.

“Isn’t it my turn now?”

“Oh, right. Go ahead.”

Edith nodded, looking a little bewildered.

Come to think of it, it was unusual for him to ask her questions.

What would he ask?

She only hoped it wouldn’t be about the Resistance. She couldn’t answer questions about that.

With a slight sense of tension, she waited anxiously for his question.

And after quite some time, the question she finally heard was something she’d never expected.

“What was your husband like?”

Edith’s pupils trembled uncontrollably.

Watching her reaction, Zekart felt his mood plummet in an instant.

You haven’t changed at all, have you? Even now, you’re still…

“If it’s uncomfortable, forget it.”

“Oh, no. That’s not it.”

“……”

“It’s just… I was a little surprised. That’s all.”

Her stiff lips struggled to form a smile.

Apparently, that wasn’t enough, because she picked up her wineglass and drained it in several large gulps.

Her eyes, which had been lowered as though lost in memories, finally returned to him just as Zekart was about to withdraw his question altogether.

“If you’re curious about what he looked like, just look in the mirror. We look exactly alike.”

Zekart’s brows furrowed slightly.

Edith burst out laughing.

How could even the expression he made when he was displeased look so much like his?

“But his personality was completely opposite to yours.”

“For example?”

“Well… He was a very composed and proper person. Even after we got married, he always spoke to me formally. And he was someone who exercised a great deal of restraint.”

“So you’re saying I’m neither proper nor restrained?”

At his somewhat sulky tone, Edith smiled faintly.

There was a slight trace of drunkenness in her smile.

“At least you’re just as perceptive.”

“Ha.”

Watching him let out an incredulous sigh, Edith’s smile slowly faded.

It was a rather selfish thought, but she wished that the person sitting across from her right now was you.

Even if it were only for a little while, she wanted to sit across from him like this, share a drink, ask how he’d been, and reminisce about their memories.

If only she could say a proper goodbye that way.

“I don’t have a single photograph of him. Not even the wedding ring he gave me.”

During her pregnancy, Edith’s fingers had swollen so much that she’d taken off her wedding ring.

She’d done so because she was afraid of losing it if she carried it around carelessly.

But, looking back, it had turned out to be the worst decision.

The war had taken everything from her—her home, and even every trace of Maximilian that had once existed there.

“So he exists only in my memories.”

“Sounds like you regret that quite a bit.”

“The wedding ring is gone, but his face…”

Edith’s pale hand suddenly reached out.

The dishes on the table rattled, creating a small commotion.

By the time the noise had settled, her hand was already cupping Zekart’s cheek.

“…is right here.”

Zekart’s dark eyes grew deeper.

He seemed both angry and bitter that she was looking at another man through him.

Slowly shaking his head, he brushed her hand away.

Then he stood up.

“Are you leaving?”

Edith asked, hurriedly getting to her feet as well.

“Yes.”

“But I still have something to say—”

His long strides carried him to the door before she could even finish her sentence.

“Next time.”

He opened the door and left the room without a moment’s hesitation.

Edith stood rooted to the spot for a long while, bewildered by how abruptly his demeanor had turned cold.

“…Can’t you let me go now?”

The words she hadn’t been able to say to him slipped out as an empty murmur to herself.