Chapter 59
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 59
Oscar did not answer.
But sometimes, silence was an answer in itself.
Barbara, the shrewd old wolf who guarded Reinhardt, steadied her breathing, trying to make as objective a judgment as possible.
The Outsider, who had been perfectly fine until last night, was now washing Oscar's blankets in a half-delirious state, and Oscar had ordered her to be given a morning-after pill. It was obvious that something had happened between them.
And not with Abel, but with Oscar.
If Abel Sting, who had been trailing the Outsider looking half-dead himself, were to find out, he would surely be consumed by self-loathing. Of course, Barbara couldn't care less whether Abel felt self-loathing or self-confidence.
Ultimately, she was focused on only one thing.
What would be the fallout? What was the worst-case scenario, and what damage would Reinhardt suffer?
Yet, just as important as the consequences was how such a thing had happened in the first place. Only by understanding the cause could they begin to predict what was to come.
Had the Outsider seduced Oscar? Or had Oscar forced himself on her?
Barbara’s eyes narrowed.
The cause had to be one of the two, but the former seemed utterly absurd.
Of course, this world was full of events born from incomprehensible coincidences and choices, far more than those with clear, logical causes. Even so, the idea that the Outsider had seduced the Marquis was so preposterous that the theory of Oscar forcing himself on her felt far more plausible.
Yes… that was much more likely.
Barbara’s gaze shifted to Oscar. Watching his profile as he smoked, she recalled how he had stopped on the stairs last night, staring down at something.
The shrewd old wolf’s eyes gleamed as she posed a sharp question.
“Shall we send the Target to Traun with Abel Sting today, as you ordered last night?”
“……”
Oscar did not answer.
For some reason, it felt as though a distant rumble of thunder was echoing. A massive dark cloud, heavy with rain, was slowly creeping toward a barren desert. A desert with no trees or drainage channels would flood at the slightest drop of rain.
Just then, a knock came from the office door. Barbara immediately checked who was on the other side.
“It’s Simon.”
Oscar flicked his finger, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray. When Barbara opened the door, Simon von Bernheim, his hair immaculately styled, stepped into the office.
After bowing politely to Oscar, who was rinsing his mouth with water, he got straight to the point, as was his habit.
“There is something I failed to report last night.”
Setting down his water glass, Oscar looked up at him.
“It’s a report from the Backup Team. It wasn’t witnessed directly and has not been verified, but there’s a possibility that someone made contact with the Target in the crowd yesterday.”
At that, Oscar, who had been leaning casually against the windowsill, stood up straight.
“Made contact?”
“They said that when the distance between Abel Sting and the Target suddenly widened, there was a movement that couldn’t be explained by simply being swept along by the crowd.”
“Go on.”
“First, the Target moved against the flow of the crowd. Furthermore, in the glimpses they caught of her, she appeared to be dragged by someone rather than walking on her own.”
“……”
It would have been better if he had sneered, mocking them for losing their edge. The silence enveloping Oscar was that unsettling.
It was Barbara who broke the heavy stillness. Carefully placing a steaming cup of coffee in front of Oscar, she asked her previous question once more.
“Shall we send the Target to Traun with Abel Sting today?”
Even as she repeated the same question, Oscar remained silent.
He merely stared at Barbara for a moment, then tilted his head to look down at the coffee she had brought. Lost in thought for a long while, as if searching for something in the dark liquid, he finally let out a weary sigh, having apparently reached a decision.
At last, Oscar looked up, running a hand carelessly through his hair. Grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair, he spoke in a low voice.
“Put it on hold.”
Then, without so much as touching the coffee, he brushed past Barbara. She bowed politely to his retreating figure, and Simon followed in his master’s footsteps.
Left alone in the massive office, Barbara straightened her back and turned toward the window.
The dim dawn was ending. Though bright sunlight should have been pouring in, the world outside remained dark. Just as Oscar and Simon emerged at the mansion's entrance, boarded their carriage, and began their slow descent toward the Annex, Barbara’s eyes drifted up to the sky, which perfectly matched the color of her hair.
The gloomy sky finally began to shed raindrops.
* * *
On that rainy morning, Oscar left the mansion and headed straight for headquarters.
A mountain of work had piled up from his consecutive schedules since Pelfe. There were hundreds of documents awaiting his approval and several internal meetings he had to attend.
Entering his office, Oscar took off his jacket, draped it over the sofa, and sat down with practiced ease. Unwilling to waste a single second, he immediately pulled the topmost document toward him and began flipping through it with rapid movements.
“Then, I shall head to my office as well.”
Simon had just as much work to catch up on, but he also felt a strong urge to put some distance between himself and his master. He bowed politely and turned to leave, only for Oscar’s voice to ring out from behind him.
“Report No. 2021.”
Simon immediately spun back around.
“Bring it,” Oscar continued, his eyes still scanning the documents. “Still no word from Theresia Wittgenstein?”
“No, Your Excellency.”
“Don’t just tell me there’s no contact. Find out her current movements. If she can’t be reached, give me a detailed report on why—even if it’s just a guess.”
“My apologies.”
“Bring every single report Theresia Wittgenstein has ever submitted, down to the smallest detail. And bring the translated copy of Han Seo-ah’s identification papers.”
“Understood.”
A short while later, the headquarters staff tilted their heads in confusion at the sight of Simon von Bernheim sprinting down the hallway like a madman. Born of a different stock than ordinary wolves and holding a noble title of his own, he never ran unless he was on a battlefield.
While many watched with gleaming eyes, finding the sight of Simon running as if his life depended on it to be a rare spectacle, a few experienced veterans immediately lowered their heads and clicked their tongues.
“Today, this place is the battlefield.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m telling you, Bernheim only runs on battlefields.”
“……”
“But look at him. He’s running, isn’t he?”
Which meant that today, this place was a shambles, a battlefield, and a graveyard.
A shambles, a battlefield, a graveyard.
None of those words sounded pleasant; they were all terribly ominous.
Simon detested shambles and battlefields alike, and he had absolutely no desire to be buried for something that wasn’t even his fault. In the blink of an eye, he gathered all the materials Oscar had requested and presented them.
Yet Oscar merely processed his paperwork at a terrifying speed, not casting so much as a glance at the files Simon had brought. He didn’t smoke, nor did he drink coffee. Despite having skipped breakfast, he immersed himself entirely in his work, forgoing both snacks and lunch.
As a result, the mountain of documents shrank rapidly, but the materials Simon had brought remained untouched. It was only after Oscar had finished all of his tasks for the day that he finally turned his attention to them.
By the time he returned to his office after his final meeting, it was already dark outside. It wasn’t just the hour; the rain that had started that morning showed no signs of stopping and was now pouring down even harder.
Oscar pulled a cigarette from his desk drawer, placed it between his lips, and lit it. Then, he opened the window behind his desk.
The world, shrouded in a thick mist, was a wash of gray. A hazy downpour fell noisily over the gray landscape, and the damp air drifting through the open window felt as if it were licking his dry cheek.
Rain always evoked an unpleasant feeling.
It wasn’t just the weather itself, but the memories associated with it. They were so deeply unpleasant that he even avoided business trips to countries where it rained frequently, like Herod.
But today, the gloom brought on by the weather felt like nothing at all.
By its very nature, desire was never clean. It was always sordid, whether it was a desire for honor, revenge, or lust. The fact that he had taken out that lust on the very woman who had brought him the key was, in hindsight, utterly absurd.
What was even more absurd was…
“...Ngh, ...ah.”
…that her whimpering groans still clung to his ears.
The woman had been in agony, not knowing what to do. Yet, she had not said it hurt, except for that very first time when his finger entered her. Her passage, tight even for a single finger, couldn't fully take him. Eventually, she had gone limp, as if she lacked the strength to even lift a hand.
Even so, she had just taken it quietly as he thrust into her. She hadn't even asked him to stop.
The tip of his cigarette glowed red. The hazy smoke was pushed back inside by the wind. Though his eyes saw the mist-shrouded world, a completely different scene unfolded in his mind.
He could almost see her, completely limp, her breathing shallow and ragged. The woman who had tried so hard to cover her chest, only to end up sprawling without even the strength to do so. Dried white semen stained her abdomen, and freshly spilled seed trickled down between her thighs.