“Your Excellency, the Madame has been shot and urgently transported to a hospital in the city. She is currently undergoing treatment.”
The documents in his hand crumpled with a rustle. A brief silence passed. Hainer set down the papers and asked curtly.
“…Her condition?”
“She is unconscious, but they say it is not critical. I, and also…”
“I will go at once. I’ll hear the rest directly.”
Hainer cut in without pressing for further details about the circumstances. The subordinate staff who had been reporting before him looked at him with bewildered faces.
“Which hospital?”
“Luther Hospital in Ronchester.”
After hanging up, Hainer pressed the intercom.
“Have a car waiting downstairs.”
He rose from his seat and threw on his overcoat. The subordinates glanced at one another at their superior’s completely sunken expression.
“I will hear the report later.”
“Yes, sir!”
At the Supreme Commander’s brief salute, the subordinates raised their hands in rigid form. Without even looking at them, Hainer strode out of the office.
With every step, the ground beneath his feet felt precarious. He clenched his faintly trembling hand into a tight fist. Everything that reached his ears felt like terrible noise.
Without waiting for the elevator, Hainer ran down the stairs. The moment he climbed into the waiting car, he spoke.
“Luther Hospital. As fast as possible.”
Throughout the drive to the hospital, Hainer could not hide his anxious state. He fumbled in his inner pocket, pulled out a cigar, and placed it between his lips. He did not light it.
Hainer tilted his head back, the cigar still in his mouth. His fingertips tapped against his thigh in turn. Not critical. But unconscious.
The obvious questions—who, when, where, why—did not occur to him at that moment.
He simply… could not think straight. Only the report he had heard over the phone kept circling in his head.
Hainer rubbed his weary eyes. He absently touched the back of his neck at the chilling sensation, but there was nothing to grasp.
The car soon arrived in front of the hospital. He roughly tossed the unlit cigar into the ashtray and got out. He quickly entered the building and stood before the reception desk.
“Anette Waldemar. A gunshot patient.”
“…Ah, yes! Yes, um, she’s in Room A-4… Mr. Walter! Please guide this gentleman.”
A staff member hurried out from the back and personally escorted him to the room. Hainer followed, his lips set in a hard line.
The moment Hainer entered the private room, a doctor followed right behind him. Perhaps having rushed over after an urgent report, beads of sweat dotted the doctor’s forehead.
“I am Yanis… *huff*… Schulze. It is an honor to meet you, Your Excellency.”
Without so much as glancing at the doctor, Hainer surveyed Anette lying there pale. His eyes roamed over her compulsively. He did not even realize his own face was contorted.
“How is her condition?”
“She was transported quickly, and since the gunshot wound was not deep, it was treated safely. The injury will recover swiftly…”
The doctor trailed off and hesitated. However, Hainer was pouring every ounce of his attention into Anette and failed to notice.
“However, Your Excellency, I do not know if you were aware, but, um, the Madame…”
“…”
“The Madame was pregnant.”
“…”
“It was still early, but unfortunately, due to this incident, she has miscarried… The injury appears that it will heal quickly, but there may be aftereffects from the miscarriage…”
“…What?”
Belatedly echoing him, Hainer turned his head with a stiff, creaking motion.
“What did you just say?”
“Ah, um, that the Madame has miscarried…”
“She was pregnant?”
“Y-yes. It appears to have been about… eleven weeks. She was hemorrhaging when she was brought in, and that is what caused her to lose consciousness.”
Hainer stood rigidly frozen, entirely speechless. The doctor added hesitantly.
“I am deeply sorry to say this, Your Excellency, but in my professional opinion… due to this incident, it will likely be very difficult for the Madame to become pregnant in the future.”
“…”
“Her constitution was already weak, so even if she had carried this pregnancy to term, I expect it would have been difficult for her to conceive again.”
Hainer listened without even breathing properly. The words coming from the doctor’s mouth felt like a nightmare.
Pregnant… Pregnant?
A miscarriage?
The two words collided chaotically in his mind. Hainer turned his head again with a dumbfounded expression. His gray eyes looking down at Anette trembled.
In the past, she had desperately wanted a child. Even when doctors gave the opinion that her constitution made conception difficult, she had not given up.
For the first year of their marriage, they had spent nights together frequently, and even after the revolution, Anette had continued to come to his bed.
There must have been hope for pregnancy in that. The vain delusion that if she bore a child, they could return to how things used to be.
However, despite Anette’s efforts, she had not become pregnant even once over the past four years.
Naturally, the matter of children no longer surfaced. Hainer had also vaguely assumed she was infertile.
But she had been pregnant. Anette.
*Eleven weeks…?*
If it was that time, it would have been during the last encounter, or the one before. Because before and after Hainer had brought up divorce, Anette had never once come to his bedroom.
Of all times, then.
As if someone had played a cruel prank—his luck was bad. He could explain it no other way than sheer bad luck.
With ruthless clarity, Hainer traced the chain of events one by one.
Of all times, Anette had been pregnant. Of all times, it had been then. Of all times, this had happened. Of all times, she had miscarried. Of all times, her health was poor. Of all times, she would never again become pregnant….
His thoughts crumpled like paper. They were incoherent and irrational. Hainer touched his lips with a trembling hand.
“…Very well. I understand.”
“Yes, Your Excellency. The Madame will wake soon. The intrauterine byproducts should be expelled naturally.”
*Byproducts….*
It was an utterly dry word, devoid of even a hint of life’s warmth. Hainer found the word extremely grating. He could not say why.
“However, if the hemorrhaging does not stop or her condition remains poor, we may need to perform surgery to scrape out the byproducts inside.”
Hainer tried to commit each of the doctor’s words to memory, but he could not be sure he was doing so properly. Having listened to the possible aftereffects of the miscarriage, he parted his lips with difficulty.
“Please ensure the fact of the miscarriage does not leak to the outside.”
“I will, Your Excellency. Is there anything else you are curious about, or anything you need?”
“…My wife usually suffered from insomnia, but it seemed to have worsened recently. Is that related to the pregnancy?”
“It varies by expectant mother, but various symptoms can appear in early pregnancy. If she already had insomnia, it is possible it worsened.”
He could not remember exactly when Anette’s insomnia had grown worse. He had tried not to pay attention to it consciously.
Hainer clenched his fist tightly, then opened it, and asked in a subdued voice.
“Is it safe for her to continue taking her existing medication?”
“If it was medicine she had been taking without issue, it should be fine.”
“Could you check? If there is a better medicine available, please prescribe that instead.”
“I will, Your Excellency. Please do not hesitate to call if you need anything else.”
“Yes, thank you.”
Though he answered composedly, Hainer’s gaze remained fixed on Anette.
“Y-yes, then…”
The doctor, having glanced at the Supreme Commander’s broad back, exited the room. Feeling somehow that he must not make a sound, he closed the door with careful pressure in his fingertips.
*Click.*
“Whew.”
The doctor wiped the sweat from his forehead and straightened his gown. The young Supreme Commander of rumors was fiercer than expected. Surprisingly handsome, but a man of tremendous presence.
He had heard his wife was also one of Ronchester’s great beauties, and it seemed the photographs had not fully captured that beauty. Though the stories that followed were rather grim.
Setting aside newspaper tales and private circumstances, by outward appearances alone, they were an exceptionally well-matched couple. The way he had looked at his wife, too…
Recalling the Supreme Commander’s expression, the doctor tilted his head.
Hadn’t he heard the two of them were on bad terms?
***
“Hainer.”
Holding a lamp, Anette moved her lips before his bedroom door. The pale light of the lamp illuminated Hainer’s angular face.
“Are you… busy today? If you are not busy…”
Her voice trembled faintly at the end. He must have known what Anette’s words implied. She had come and asked countless times over the past three years, yet she had never grown accustomed to this strange sense of shame.
Hainer looked down at her without a word. Anette bit her lower lip slightly. She felt as though she would suffocate in those ash-gray eyes.
*If you hate me, say so.*
*If you hate it, refuse me.*
*Don’t kiss me, don’t hold me—just chase me away.*
The words that had rushed up to her throat were swallowed back down.
Anette hung her head low and cautiously grasped the hem of his clothes. She hoped he wouldn’t say he hated her. Hoped he wouldn’t refuse. Hoped he wouldn’t chase her away.
She wanted to reach him. Even though her mind knew their relationship was already in ruins—whenever he embraced her, it felt as though everything was alright.
Even though she knew that once it was over, misery would remain like dregs.
Hainer’s gray eyes moved from bottom to top, then top to bottom. His gaze landed on the exposed chest visible through his loosely tied gown.
Anette’s hand, clutching his clothes, trembled faintly. After gazing at that hand for a final moment, Hainer quietly let her into the room.
The door closed without a sound. Anette entered as if pushed by something. Her figure was slowly swallowed by the darkness. *Thud.* The door shut.
Inside, only a single dim incandescent bulb was lit. Hainer strode over and turned it off. The room went dark instantly.
He perched on the edge of the bed. Anette approached him and undid her gown. The smooth cloth slid down past her shoulders.
Their bodies drew close. A large, burning hand wrapped around her bare waist. In the pitch-black darkness, his body heat was vividly felt.
Hainer lightly lifted her and laid her down on the bed. The sound of him undressing followed. Clothes fell to the floor, and bare skin brushed against skin. Anette squeezed her eyes shut tightly.
There was no conversation.
That was all.