Chapter 20
Chapter 20
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 20
Chapter Title: White Crow Unit — Erika (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Spring afternoon sunlight poured brightly through the large window.
In the midst of the only sound being the professor scribbling densely on the blackboard, the students were dozing off, overcome by spring lethargy.
The black-haired girl seated by the window impassively flipped through the pages of her book with fingertips that betrayed her boredom.
'Weird.'
As she underlined a passage in her book and gathered her thoughts, the professor turned back around to continue the lecture.
"His Great Leader has taught us thus: The progress of history consists of three struggles. The first is class struggle, the second is national struggle, and the third is cultural struggle..."
The old professor's voice was unbearably dull. After reading down the book for a while, he suddenly looked up.
She was the student rumored to study particularly diligently, but her cold demeanor made it hard for classmates or seniors to approach her easily.
She was gazing at the professor with her hand raised.
"Uh, if you have questions, come to my office."
The professor quickly buried his face back in the book and mumbled on with the lecture.
As the sun began to set, the girl was crossing the bustling campus on her way home.
But just as she entered the hallway of the arts building, she spotted people murmuring behind the large chestnut tree, famous as the school's landmark.
"Hey, be careful! Don't touch it!"
"Just call the police. Don't read it."
"Eek!"
Suddenly, a strong gust of wind blew, and something flimsy slapped against her cheek.
Peeling it off her face and glancing at it, she saw it was a very thin sheet of poor-quality paper.
Krüger is a mad dictator!
Beneath the provocative headline, tiny print condemned the Leader's atrocities in line after line.
A chill ran down her spine, and she hurriedly tossed it away.
It had to be one of those flyers from the underground rebel group that had been rampant lately.
There were rumors that even touching one would get you dragged off by the lurking Ossel, so everyone kept quiet about it, but she'd seen police angrily tearing them down a few times.
As the surrounding students hesitated, the police arrived after a report and picked up the paper.
"Where did you find this?"
He asked. His tone was polite, but his entire presence exuded an intimidating pressure that made him hard to deal with.
Before the girl could even part her lips, other students stepped forward for her.
"It was stuck in the chestnut tree's hollow. We don't know how long it'd been there since no one looks in there."
As the police's attention shifted away, she hurried off.
Her heart pounded fiercely.
The relaxed afternoon on campus the day before summer break, with everyone gone.
The black-haired girl wandered the hallway in the humanities building where the political science professors' offices were clustered.
She clutched a tattered major textbook in her hands.
, one of the Leader's autobiographies, was covered in fingerprints, scribbled notes in pen and pencil everywhere. Though only three months old, it looked like an ancient tome.
After peering into the worn, dirty book repeatedly, she seemed to make up her mind. She took a small deep breath and cautiously knocked on the office door.
"Come in."
"Long live His Great Leader. Good day, Professor."
"Long live the Great Leader! Ah, Miss Braithner."
The middle-aged professor broke into a broad grin the moment he saw her face.
"I heard you took first place this time? You're still just a freshman, but the professors have high expectations for you."
"Thank you."
She bowed her head expressionlessly.
"I have a question that came up while studying and wanted to ask."
"Hm? Your exam was perfect. What is it?"
She stroked the frayed cover with her fingertips and calmly opened her mouth.
"It's about this textbook..."
In that instant, the professor's smiling face hardened.
"I believe that His Leader's teachings are not perfect."
"Stop."
But she didn't.
"You said the progress of history consists of three struggles. I know class struggle was proven by the revolution, so that's correct. But struggle between nations doesn't advance humanity. The same goes for cultural struggle. There is no superiority or inferiority in culture—"
"Enough!"
The professor bellowed. His face was contorted. The girl shut her mouth impassively.
"Please stop, Miss Braithner. I'll let this one slide. Don't come like this again."
The professor hurriedly ushered her out.
Staring at the closed door, the girl quietly turned away.
She could have vented the doubts filling her chest, the suffocating frustration swelling to burst.
But she knew it would be pointless.
She had read in the professor's eyes his worry for a prized student, guilt for not agreeing with what was right, and self-loathing for it.
For days, she wandered the campus like a ghost.
The school, now on break, was eerily empty except for occasional patrolling guards and grad students coming and going for their theses.
Whenever no one was around, she habitually went to the large chestnut tree and peered into the hollow where the flyer had been.
She couldn't understand why she did it herself.
How many days passed?
As she sat blankly on a bench, resignation letter in her bag, killing time, someone approached and sat beside her.
Glancing over absentmindedly, she saw a young man with shaggy auburn hair and calm, slightly drooping brown eyes.
"The chestnut tree's impressive, huh? I heard it's the students' pride."
"Pardon? What..."
"Sometimes people hide treasures in the hollow."
He chuckled softly and politely offered a handshake.
"Daniel Hartmann."
A few days later, she became the first member of the White Crow Unit.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Erika Braithner woke to the sound of rain outside the window.
A chilly dawn.
Raindrops fell heavily from the dim sky.
"Just a dream."
She murmured, rubbing her stiff nape.
She must have dozed off slumped over her desk; the paper she'd been copying all night was smudged against her cheek.
A short piece written in calm prose but making radical claims.
'Daniel usually handled this sort of thing.'
She recalled the White Crow Unit leader from her dream.
He had struggled alone with , pasting flyers everywhere, searching for potential comrades.
Pretending to be a student, he frequented Lüdelheim Comprehensive University, learned of Erika by chance, and secretly watched her come to school even during break.
After that surveillance—not quite surveillance—he'd approached her on a hunch.
His shy smile as he admitted agonizing over it had been radiant.
Erika stretched and got up, hiding the stack of papers in her bag. As the sun rose, a maid knocked cautiously outside.
"Miss, are you awake?"
"Yeah, I'll be out soon."
Bright sunlight streamed into the mansion's hallway, but for a moment, Erika felt like she saw a ghost lurking in the shadowed corner.
No, it wasn't an illusion.
A gaunt woman like a withered old tree was shuffling along in a gray shawl.
"Good morning, Mother."
The woman looked at Erika with hazy eyes and wordlessly moved away. Erika passed her mother familiarly and headed to the dining room.
As always, she was the only one in the vast, luxurious dining room.
It had been years of the same scene, so it no longer felt particularly lonely. This damn house had been like this since she was old enough to understand.
By the time she started university, it worsened; excluding servants, only three people lived in the mansion, which was always shrouded in silence.
'Doesn't matter.'
Erika thought as she cut into her omelet. She could live like this forever.
Her father—some father trying to silence her—she wouldn't mind never seeing his face again. In fact, she'd welcome it.
As a clueless child, she'd admired her successful businessman father, but as she grew, unease gripped her.
Killing people, killing, killing.
Rooting out reactionaries, torturing, hanging them in the squares.
That her father admired the Leader who did such mad things.
That he'd flattered the Leader's subordinates and bribed them to grow his factories.
At first, she'd been confused, then ashamed, and now she hated him.
After puberty, they'd argued loudly several times, creating an irreparable rift between father and daughter.
She had no lingering attachment to him now.
But her mother—trying to mediate their fights, her words dwindled until a few years ago she stopped speaking altogether—that mother made her chest ache whenever she thought of her.
"But Mother, I'll take the right path."
Erika murmured, watching the woman wander blankly in the garden.
She had to do what was right—or at least what she believed was right—to even breathe a little.
Only when forming the White Crow Unit with Daniel, setting rules, secretly debating the world's affairs—those were the only times she felt truly alive.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Attending university lectures was now mere formality, nothing more or less. Yet Erika, charging toward her senior year, had never once lost her top spot.
The professor who'd covered for her freshman escapade seemed satisfied that she'd "come to her senses" and become an obedient student, so he no longer interfered.
She took notes on the professor's words soullessly and recited Krüger's doctrines from memory.
After the excruciatingly boring lecture ended, Erika left through the school gate and boarded a streetcar.
Not heading home. She hated the oppressive air that crushed her like the deep sea, so she always returned late at night.
In the 8th District shopping street of the affluent area where the Braithner family lived, she found a shop with a modest sign on its neatly white-painted wall.
It was the private clinic run by her family's doctor.
Riiiing!
Pressing the doorbell produced a shrill sound from the magic device. A sturdy nurse auntie opened the door.
"Miss Braithner! What's wrong?"
"I sprained my ankle."
Erika showed her bandaged ankle.
Guided to the director's office, the moment the nurse closed the door, Erika strode toward the doctor.
"...Erika?"
"Richard."
After a fleeting moment of surprise, he smiled his usual gentle smile.
"You said you hurt your ankle? Here, put your leg up."
"I came to see you."
She pulled out the stack of flyers she'd copied all night from her bag.
"Erika."
Richard's smile faded.
"I told you last time, I'm no longer with the White Crow Unit."
"Same here. But we're still friends, right?"
"Yes. Friends. The kind we can chat casually about trivial things with."
"Is that how you really feel?"
Erika snapped sharply.
"You're going to erase all those times from your life? Just like that?"
Richard looked at her with eyes worried for a child.
"I already have. Erika, is that so hard?"
Erika's breath caught.
He'd left the White Crow Unit. Voluntarily. She didn't know how to live now.
So she wanted to meet someone who shared those memories. Force herself to act together. No, just talking would be enough.
She knew it was childish, but her precarious heart, on the verge of collapse, craved it.
But no. Richard was no longer a comrade—he was worse than a stranger.
A massive wave of betrayal crashed over Erika.
Richard, whom she'd personally recruited and known as a friend for so long, had cut her and the others off without hesitation.
'Ah, right. That's the kind of person he is.'
Sudden realization dawned.
The Richard she'd known was always one step removed from everything.
Ready to leave at any moment, with a solid wall keeping everyone at bay.
Erika glared at the young surgeon who seemed so peacefully at ease with the world.
"You've always been like that. You will be. Even if someone you truly love comes along, you'll discard them in an instant if things go wrong."
Richard, still with his kind smile, whispered softly as if soothing her.
"Probably. Forever."
He scribbled on a prescription and pressed the call bell.
"Please assist Miss Braithner. Give her a week's painkillers too."
Erika was helplessly dragged out.
Clutching the painkiller bottle from the nurse, she lingered for a long time in front of the sign with Richard's name.