An Ordinary Man (3)

A car equipped with loudspeakers roamed the streets of Belgrade, broadcasting the declaration of surrender. At first, no one believed it. Had they not seen the tricks Shtal had played throughout the war? What if they believed Shtal's words and deserted, only to have a secret agent from the Black Hand, dispatched by the National Revolutionary Party, put a bullet through ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠their chest? But when President Apis, his front teeth completely knocked out, was paraded along the front lines alongside the Revolutionary Guard, public opinion shifted in an instant.

The soldiers recalled the Apis they had seen in newspapers and on posters plastered on walls—a majestic, heroic figure, yet with a chilling, smoldering intensity in his eyes. And what of the soldiers who now saw Apis's face in the flesh?

"Is... is that really the President?"

"No... that can't be..."

The morale of the soldiers who supported the National Revolutionary Party wavered violently. Surely, the Apis they believed in and followed would never lose his dignity, even if he were captured by Shtal, even if he were tortured and beaten. Surely, he wouldn't. But what on earth was this sight before them?

Eyes as wide and innocent as a calf's. He was being dragged around on a leash like a dog, flinching violently whenever the Revolutionary Guard gave the rope a rough tug. And his trousers... why were they so heavily stained?

"Mr. President!"

"Is it truly you, Mr. President?"

"...Cease the fighting," Apis muttered.

"No! We will fight to the bitter end to rescue you, Mr. President! We will die by your side!"

"Don't talk about dying! I want to live!"

"Thank you for the encourag—"

"No, it's not encouragement! Only if you surrender will my life be spared even a moment longer! Please, I beg of you, surrender!"

In the original history, the moment Hitler sensed defeat, he ordered Berlin to be burned to the ground. He believed the citizens of Nazi Germany were both victims and perpetrators, and that in defeat, they deserved to fade into the dustbin of history. It was the stubborn pride and final vanity of a man who had set the world on fire. In contrast, Apis, having snapped back to reality, was pathetically begging for his life. And seeing his wretched display, those who were still intoxicated by the national revolution finally sobered up.

"...What... what on earth have I done?"

"Mr. President! Do not abandon us, Mr. President!"

"Long live the National Revolution! I shall die with the Great Serbian nation! Everyone, point your guns at your own heads!"

"Ha... haha... it's all over."

What on earth had they been fighting for? If they were wrong and Shtal was right, if they had lost and Shtal had won... then what was the meaning of everything they had done until now? Citizens and soldiers who had passionately supported the national revolution slumped to the ground, their eyes hollow, as if they had lost everything. Some even turned their weapons on themselves.

"...Is it really over?"

"It seems it really is."

"Finally... finally, the war is over!"

"My... my mother? I have to go find my mother right now."

"To hell with the National Revolution! Shoot that Black Hand agent!"

Yet, just as many people—even though their city had been occupied by an enemy state—let out cheers of joy. They cheered for the soldiers of the Revolutionary Guard as if they were a liberating army. Most of them had originally risen up for Serbia and the Slavic race. But after spending six months—no, even just a single month—in the trenches of the front lines, any notion of a "national revolution" was utterly erased from their minds. The nation? The ancestral lands of the Slavs? All they truly yearned for was a warm, soft bed, the lovers, friends, and families they had left behind, and a single ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hot, fluffy potato. But what was the use of realizing that only after reaching the front? It was already too late to turn back.

"Can we ever go back to the way things were?"

"We can only hope."

"President Apis is gone! Now... we can just live happily."

"Yes, that's right. Just happily..."

Another week passed. Within that week, the sporadic skirmishes that had still broken out across Belgrade ground to a complete halt. At the presidential palace of Yugoslavia, where the old Serbian royal palace once stood, a plain red flag—the symbol of Stahlism and the Revolutionary Guard—was hoisted. The strains of The Internationale echoed through the loudspeakers. Both the victorious soldiers of the Revolutionary Guard and the citizens of Yugoslavia watched in stunned silence as the black banner of the National Revolution was lowered and the red flag of the revolution rose in its place. Once the anthem finished, Shtal's voice began to flow through the loudspeakers.

The entirety of Belgrade erupted in cheers. People threw their hats, helmets, and rifles into the air in celebration. But one soldier simply leaned his back against a collapsed building. He pulled out a single, carefully preserved cigarette and lit it. A single cigarette, and the drifting smoke. No longer would he have to worry about being targeted by a sniper just for striking a match, nor would he have to live in fear of artillery shells and stray bullets that could rain down at any moment. For the first time since the war began, the soldier closed his eyes in peace, savoring the acrid smoke. As the smoke slowly drifted and dispersed into the sky, the agony of the past few years seemed to vanish along with it. That was all the soldier had ever wanted.

The very first person to rush to the scene the moment the Serbian front was closed was Archduke Franz Ferdinand. Whatever his faults, the Archduke possessed the true makings of an emperor. A national leader must become the state itself. The man, Franz Ferdinand, had to be pushed aside, leaving only the Crown Prince of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Thus, except for the initial moment when his mind had completely shattered upon losing Duchess Sophie to the Serbians' 'Operation Guillotine,' the Archduke had always remained the Archduke. It was to the point where one might even wonder, Did this man love Sophie less than I thought?

But I soon realized how wrong that assumption was. Archduke Franz Ferdinand, who had abandoned all his official duties and rushed madly onto a train from Vienna to Serbia, was a different man entirely.

"Y-Your Imperial Highness?"

"Apis! Where is Apis!"

"Your Highness, please calm down first!"

"I asked where he is!"

My God... I was horrified when I saw him. As if he had endured an unimaginable amount of stress over the past few days, the Archduke's hair had turned entirely white.

"...Please, go inside."

I showed Archduke Franz Ferdinand the sight of President Apis, his entire body bound in heavy iron chains. And just as I had been when I first saw Apis, the Archduke was instantly seized by a profound sense of futility.

"...Why did you kill her?"

"Ha... haha. Your Imperial Highness! It's a misunderstanding, a complete misunderstanding. I... I only spoke the words, but those young hotheads under my command acted on their own. Ha... haha."

"I asked why you killed her!"

Apis made excuses as pathetically as a shopkeeper who had sold a defective item. Seeing this, the Archduke completely lost his mind. If only Apis had been a true fanatic to the end, if he had possessed even a shred of heroic dignity, the Archduke could have unleashed his fury.

"Your Highness, you understand politics, don't you? Since you know politics, surely you understand why I did what I did! All that talk of a Great Serbia and the National Revolution... it was all a lie! You know they're just slogans, don't you? Just like that Stahlism of yours!"

"Sophie had no power. She held no political authority! Why didn't you kill me instead?!"

"Haha, hahaha... Just spare my life! You can pull out all my teeth, you can turn me into a drooling idiot! Please, I beg of you, just spare my life!"

I gasped in shock at the red tears streaming down Franz's face.

"Y-Your Highness?"

I had always thought crying tears of blood was merely a dramatic literary expression found in martial arts novels. But the capillaries in the Archduke's eyes had completely ruptured, and actual crimson tears were spilling down his cheeks. After weeping those bloody tears for a long moment, the Archduke drew an automatic pistol from his waist and aimed it directly at Apis's head.

"I will soothe Sophie's soul with your death. Die!"

"Hi-hiiiieek! P-please, spare me! Spare my life!"

"Your Imperial Highness!"

I quickly stepped between them, blocking the Archduke.

"You mustn't! The target of our vengeance must be extremism and hatred itself, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠never Apis as an individual!"

"Then... you expect me to just leave a bastard like this be? To watch him stand trial and die a quick, painless death with a snapped neck on the gallows?!"

I agreed with him. But...

"Your Highness. I have been deeply moved by the strength you have shown over the past few months. Even as you wept tears of blood every single night, you successfully separated your identity as the Crown Prince from your identity as Franz Ferdinand."

"You... you want me to keep doing this? I don't have the strength anymore. I am so tired..."

"Your Highness... I know how heavy the burden on your shoulders is."

"You don't know! You have no idea!"

I took hold of the Archduke's trembling hand. I had never personally experienced just how agonizing that burden truly was. Perhaps that was why I had actively avoided taking on an official public position myself. But the blood flowing from his eyes bore testament to his suffering. Such torment was perhaps the greatest side effect of inherited, absolute power.

"You don't know how much pain I've been in, Shtal!"

"..."

"When I first met you, I was such a... foolish, immature man. If I had truly wanted to remain Sophie's lover, I should have just thrown away that damn title of Crown Prince... It is because of me. Sophie died because of me."

I shook my head.

"Your Highness, that is not true."

"No, it is."

"Did Christ not know of His own death? Your Highness... I deeply empathize with your pain. But your sacrifice was not meaningless. If not for you, there would be countless other Franzes and Sophies suffering across this land."

For the first time, the Archduke cast aside his title and stood before me simply as Franz Ferdinand.

"..."

"Like Romeo and Juliet, countless lovers would have been torn apart by the divide of social class. But thanks to us, those barriers have vanished, allowing people to love each other for who they are. Because of President Apis, so many in Vienna and Belgrade, Paris and Berlin, St. Petersburg and Warsaw had to leave their beloveds behind and march to the front lines. If not for us, even more would have suffered that fate. Your Highness... you have offered your own agony as a burnt offering to save countless souls. We could not have achieved this without you."

I gently pried the pistol from the hand of the Archduke, who was still staring at President Apis through blood-stained eyes.

"I promise you this. Please, trust me. We will break this cycle of hatred. Apis will stand trial."

"That bastard... judged by the law? Is that not far too lenient a punishment? A mere hanging as payment for dragging countless souls to hell?"

I shook my head and leaned in to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠whisper into Franz Ferdinand's ear.

"President Apis will not have it so easy. A 'certain complication' will arise during his execution. I will ensure he cannot simply escape his sins through a quick death."

I glared down at Apis with utter contempt as I spoke to Franz.