Chapter 165: Soviet-style Humor.
Chapter 165: Soviet-style Humor.
"That thing exploded, but you didn't wipe everyone out, right?"
"Naturally, I only detonated the device after isolation. What exactly do you take me for?"
Good enough, then.
"If you've packed everything, let's get the hell out of here. Before those Reds show up."
We’d stopped the plan of those damn vermin for now, so we could just send the relevant data to the Management Bureau later.
The Soviets would likely turn the country upside down for a while trying to find the masterminds behind this terror attack, but that was none of our business.
If we visited the Soviet branch of the Bureau to hand over information, we’d surely end up drinking tea brewed with rusty water under the watchful eyes of the KGB...
As I was letting my imagination run wild, a voice reached my ears.
"Regrettably," the Librarian said with a bitter smile. "It's already too late."
At the same time.
Click.
The sound of a hammer cocking on a firearm rang out.
"Hands up, please."
A familiar woman's voice came from behind my back.
...Dammit.
Inevitably, I raised both hands and spoke.
"The KGB is pretty fast on their feet, aren't they? Don't you think?"
I thought we had at least ten more minutes.
"I agree, but the fools unconscious at your feet were already marked idiots on our end."
Captain, she called me.
Why was it that Henry, Ivan, and now her all called me "Captain"?
It couldn't have been a particularly pleasant memory for them, yet it was a hundred percent hit rate among the kids I'd run into.
"Ah, right... See, we were just getting robbed by those guys. We're in a bit of a hurry, so can we do the information dump—I mean, the witness statement—later and just head out? We're really pressed for time..."
Uncharacteristically, I pleaded with genuine emotion.
That was how much I loathed getting entangled with the Soviet government.
"No."
The response from my Former Subordinate was as cold as the Siberian frost.
"And why not?"
As I turned my head while speaking, the sight of my Former Subordinate, unchanged from the past, came into full view.
A sharp black suit, a loosely hanging necktie, and a shirt tail peeking out from her waist.
Long black hair tied back messily, strands out of place.
A black revolver held in her hand.
Despite the years since we parted, she hadn't changed a bit.
"Because I heard everything while hiding in the shadows, Captain."
...Right. Of course you did.
Honestly, I was just throwing words out there anyway.
"I guess you're still a Hero?"
"I have no reason to quit. And one more thing—there's no point in knocking me out. A KGB task force has already surrounded this area."
Damn.
I was planning to just knock her out and slip away.
Perhaps because she was a Former Subordinate, she read my thought patterns far too quickly.
"She speaks the truth. Let's just go quietly and drink the tea the KGB has brewed for us."
Yes, yes. Thank you for the kind explanation, Mr. Science-Major Librarian.
"Just make it quick if you can."
"That is not within my jurisdiction."
Sigh.
As I let out that heavy breath.
Screeeech.
A pitch-black car, the kind you'd see in a spy movie, blocked the alleyway.
...At least it wasn't a prisoner transport van.
I was trying to find a silver lining in the worst-case scenario, but...
"Get in."
My Former Subordinate, seemingly unwilling to let me find even that small bit of happiness, poked my forehead with the muzzle of her gun.
"Don't people usually do this to the back of the head?"
Isn't it a bit much to do this while we're looking right at each other?
"I can't exactly go behind your back, Captain, can I?"
Ah, is that so?
Fine, fine. I'll do as you say.
"Librarian! Let's... get in?"
I had started the sentence with a confident voice to steel myself, but the end of it plummeted into the Abyss as I witnessed the reality before me.
The Librarian was nowhere to be seen where he should have been.
Where the hell did he go?
Did he run?
For a split second, my mind raced with the possibility that my friend had betrayed me.
"Why don't you hurry up and get in? It's quite cozy and nice."
Fortunately, my friend hadn't betrayed me.
He had simply buckled under authority and become its lackey.
He was sitting comfortably in the car seat.
Holding a canned drink he'd pulled from who-knows-where.
"..."
"Get in."
For the first time today, I felt the Soviet air was cold.
* * *
A room of unfinished concrete, rough and uneven on all sides.
A steel table placed right in the center.
One cozy chair on one side, and a cheap-framed chair on the other.
I was currently sitting in that cheap chair.
The chair was hard.
A spider had spun a web in the corner; I guess they don't clean this place.
"I am asking for the fifth time. Tell the truth. What was your relationship with them?"
Hm? Oh. Sorry. I was thinking about something else.
Wait, is this only the fifth time? I felt like we'd done this fifty times already.
"Like I've said over and over. I don't know them."
Slam!
He struck the steel table with his fist, the loud bang echoing through the room, but I felt nothing.
It was such a textbook interrogation.
In fact, I was surprised they hadn't brought out the excessively bright lightbulb yet.
They supposedly stopped using torture after signing the agreement with the Management Bureau, but I almost wished they would.
That was how boring this was.
Well, in a sense, this was torture.
Mental torture, burning through time for no reason at all.
"Do not lie. You came to our capital, wandered around doing nothing, and the first people you encountered were them, were they not?"
I know, right? I'm surprised too, buddy.
"I ate food, too. Terribly tasteless food."
"Was that not also a prearranged meeting spot for a contact?"
Wow. What a fresh take on logic.
Just how massive a leap in logic do you have to make to say something like that?
"If I were going to make a contact, I would've made them foot the bill and gone to a high-end restaurant."
"Stop playing word games. There is no way you would meet in such a conspicuous place, is there?"
What does it matter? The food there sucked.
Besides, I've grown tired of your ugly, square face. Can't you call someone else in? I'd prefer an academic type who prattles on so I can fall asleep.
Your voice is unnecessarily loud; I can't even nap.
"I'm telling you, that was the first time I'd ever seen those guys."
"Naturally, it would be the first time you have met in person. But there are plenty of ways to communicate. What did you discuss with them? For what purpose did you contact them?"
Ah, there it is. The meaningless questions.
You already know everything from my Former Subordinate. Why ask again?
The Management Bureau’s witness statements at least extract necessary information quickly.
These guys just repeat themselves until they get the answer they want.
Then they only let you go if other evidence proves you're definitely innocent.
Or they just scream at you for a day or two to break your spirit before letting you go.
I know this from experience.
Thanks to that, my entry process was always five hours plus a full day.
"I knocked them out before we could even talk."
"Likely to deceive us after noticing the presence of our agents. We already have information on you..."
As the sophistry began again, I started to empty my mind.
I could just spit out whatever as a spinal reflex anyway.
More importantly, I wondered what would be for dinner.
I hoped it would be better than that bread topped with pickled cabbage I had last time.
If they're going to use the same cabbage, couldn't they at least make Golubtsy?
Perhaps because I was thinking about food.
"When's the food coming?"
I unconsciously threw that response back at the man's unknown question.
"We cannot provide food if you continue to be this uncooperative."
The man sitting across from me refused firmly.
Ah, fine.
Then I'll just go back to keeping silent.
I wondered what the Librarian was saying to his interrogator.
Knowing his personality, he was probably infuriating the other person with logic.
If we weren't being interrogated separately, it's a scene I'd like to watch at least once.
It would probably be funnier than most comedy shows.
"Don't I get any vodka?"
"Do you think this is a jo—"
At my mindless question, the man finally seemed to lose his temper and began to raise his voice, but...
Click.
Rumble.
His voice was cut short as the iron door behind me opened.
"We are still! In the middle of an interro... ga...?"
The interrogator, seemingly angered by the sudden intrusion, stood up from his chair and began a shout filled with rage, but pitifully, he couldn't even finish his second sentence before falling silent.
What's going on?
Did someone important arrive?
Curious, I tilted my head back while still seated to look at the door.
In a world turned upside down, I saw two people.
My familiar Former Subordinate in her loose attire.
And an Old Man in a perfectly fitted suit, with the lines of his tie, jacket, and trousers all impeccably sharp.
"This way, Your Excellency."
Who's that?
A face I'd never seen before.
After checking the visitor, I turned my head back.
I wasn't interested beyond that.
Calling him "Your Excellency" meant he was definitely someone high up, but what did I care?
I had no interest in humans with fixed-term mandates.
However, it seemed like a big deal to the interrogator in front of me.
Even though quite some time had passed since that "Excellency" entered, he still couldn't close his mouth.
But that awkward freeze in time...
Tap.
...ended with the sound of someone's footsteps.
"I... I greet the General Secretary!"
It seemed he was quite late with that.
Of course, his salute was perfect.
A salute so perfectly angled it looked like a robot's.
The only disappointing part was his face, which was contorted with such disbelief it was almost funny.
"Do not be like that. I am not your superior."
Perhaps finding the display burdensome, a dignified and restrained voice spoke from behind me.
"No, sir! The General Secretary is the eternal... of our Soviet..."
Did he think this was a typical loyalty test among the Reds?
The interrogator, sweating profusely, tried to pile on the flattery.
"I am merely the leader of a single party. And the KGB is a department of our great Soviet Union. Is that not so?"
Right, right. And that "single party" is the only party in this damn country.
"That... that is correct."
Simultaneously with the man's answer, the "mere party leader" finally approached our table. He pulled down the man's frozen arm, ending the salute, and spoke.
"To whom do you owe your loyalty? To a single party, or to the State?"
A snake-like whisper flowed from his mouth.
The dignified voice from before remained, but a strange breathiness was mixed between the words.
Wow. Look at that question.
That's how you do an interrogation.
What's the point of just screaming your head off?
Regardless, that question was clearly a tough one to answer.
I didn't know what kind of training the KGB received, but it was obviously a difficult choice.
"...To the State."
And finally, he gave his answer.
An answer that might very well be his last.
"I see. A good spirit. Continue to act exactly as you have."
At that, our Party Leader praised the answer and patted him on the shoulder.
Like a superior praising a subordinate.
"Now, please leave. I have something to discuss with this gentleman."
Gentle, yet filled with power.
He said he wasn't a superior just a moment ago, but now he was giving blatant orders.
I think I knew this guy's temperament.
The method of pushing others into extreme situations to draw out circumstances favorable to himself.
Was he from some intelligence agency? He was a very skilled man.
"U-Understood!"
The man left that short reply and dashed out of the interrogation room like the wind.
The Old Man remaining in the room nodded as if satisfied, and then...
"Now. Shall we have a talk?"
...he took the seat that had been occupied by the other man until just now.
I looked at my Former Subordinate to see what was going on, but she was just standing by the door, yawning wide enough to tear her mouth.
After finishing her yawn, our eyes met, but...
All I got back was an expression that said, 'Why are you looking at me?'
Sigh. I really don't want to get involved with high-ranking people.
Nothing for it, then.
"What business does the Emperor of the Great Soviet Union have with me?"
I threw the question with maximum sarcasm.
Perhaps he found it amusing.
"Hahaha. Emperor? I am merely a being dedicated to the service of the State."
The man laughed heartily, showing emotion in his voice for the first time.
Of course, that answer didn't fly with me at all.
"Dedicated," my ass.
"Hmm. I think I know what you are thinking. Well, fine. I have heard much about you anyway, so I shall keep this brief."
Yes, yes, go ahead.
I'm not interested.
I leaned my chin on my hand with a bitter smile reflecting those feelings, but...
The man's expression didn't change at all as he reached into his coat and placed something down in front of me.
Thump.
A soft box, the kind used for rings, was placed on the table.
"Open it."
"Sure. Why not."
It's not like this is a proposal; what is this?
With zero interest, I pulled it toward me and opened it.
Inside the purple box, which opened very smoothly, was something I hadn't expected.
"I recognize you as a Hero of our Republic. From this moment on, you are the Soviet Hero, Lee Ha-ram."
It was a small medal, a mix of red and gold.