"Remnants of the Padanian Monarchy—Shall We Stand By and Watch?"
Anette scanned the headline with listless eyes and set the newspaper aside. The matter of how to dispose of those who had benefited from the royal era was dragged out nearly every day.
Most of the nobles' assets had been confiscated. It was the achievement of Hainer Valdemar. He had exposed every sort of economic and military corruption and classified secret, stripping them down to nothing.
Yet the citizens still spoke of punishment and reckoning. Several nobles and military officials had fled into exile abroad, as if running for their lives.
Countless letters of condemnation and threats flew to Anette, the wife of the Commander-in-Chief. It had grown even worse since the Republican Party proposed the Royal Liquidation Bill.
Staring blankly at the letters stacked atop the table, Anette clamped her hand over her mouth. Her stomach churned madly. It felt as though she would retch at any moment.
After gulping cold water, Anette sprang to her feet and left the room. The air was too suffocating and heavy to bear. She wanted to walk somewhere, even in the deserted rear garden.
Anette cut across the mansion at a rapid pace. The gazes of the servants she passed felt like needles. It was common for the servants to slander her.
As she passed through the first-floor hallway, she ran into an unwelcome face.
"Madame Valdemar."
"...Major Eugen."
It was Eugen Markov, a loyal subordinate of Hainer's. He was also one of the countless many who despised Anette.
"It has been some time since we last met. Are you at peace?"
Eugen asked with a smooth smile. It was a common pleasantry, and under normal circumstances, one would respond with "I am at peace," but... the intention behind his words was different.
It meant that she ought not to be at peace.
"As always."
Anette replied with forced haughtiness. Muttering "Then I'll be on my way," she turned around. She had no desire to speak further with Eugen.
"A marriage proposal has come from Councilman Gunter's side."
The voice that followed stopped her in her tracks. It was a remark out of nowhere. Anette turned her head only slightly and gave a faint smile.
"...Congratulations."
"Not for me, but for the Commander-in-Chief."
The smile froze on her lips.
"The other party is Miss Anelie Engels, formerly of the militia. She is also a comrade who carried out operations alongside His Excellency the Commander-in-Chief."
His tone was nonchalant. Eugen had always mocked her with that indifferent voice. Anette gripped her sleeve tightly with one hand.
Gunter Engels of the Republican Party.
He was a key figure who had supplied weapons to the illegal labor unions to lead the revolution to victory, and a great man who had participated in establishing the provisional government.
His wife and son had died from gunfire during a protest, and his daughter, Anelie Engels, had served prominently in the militia. Naturally, he enjoyed immense public support to this day.
In every respect, he was the polar opposite of Anette.
"...So what?"
"'So what?' she says."
Eugen let out a sharp scoff.
"Do you still live in a flower bed?"
Rose of the flower bed. It was a derisive nickname people used to mock her.
At those words, her mind grew terrifyingly calm. Anette regarded Eugen with an expressionless face. Eugen sneered.
"You are no longer the daughter of a powerful man, Madame. You are nothing but a remnant of the past that must be erased. You would know that if you read even a few lines of the newspaper."
"..."
"That you can still walk around with your head held high is purely due to His Excellency's mercy. You are a blemish on him. What people say when they look at this marriage of yours..."
"I asked my husband for a divorce yesterday."
Anette cut him off mid-sentence with a weary face. Eugen asked back, a beat too late.
"...Pardon?"
"I said I asked for a divorce. Hainer did not accept it. He seemed to want to observe my miserable state up close, after all."
Until yesterday, she had found it impossible to fathom Hainer's inner thoughts, but after uttering the words, she felt she might understand a little.
"Because Hainer hates me. I realized that far too late. You hate me, Major, and the people hate me—so why should he be any different?"
Anette's composed voice echoed through the hallway. Eugen wore a bewildered expression, pretending otherwise, as if he had never expected such a situation.
It made sense. Hainer Valdemar was Anette's last lifeline. Even if she went through with the divorce, there was nowhere in the world that would take her in.
Perhaps if Hainer were the one who wanted it, but for her to want a divorce defied common sense.
"So I asked for a divorce. I would be grateful if you, Major, would persuade my husband. It seems your wishes and mine are aligned."
"..."
"Spread this in the papers or don't. Do as you please."
Anette smiled serenely.
***
The next day, an article announcing that Councilman Gunter had proposed a match to Hainer Valdemar was plastered across the front page.
A Republican councilman and the Commander-in-Chief. Though met with both welcoming and wary eyes, it was, in any case, a tremendous issue.
Since the two had a record of fairly and cleanly handling internal strife among the revolutionary leadership two years prior, the positive reactions were slightly more prevalent.
Needless to say, Anette's standing, already practically nonexistent, grew even narrower.
Even the rabble who had attempted to curry favor with her to get to Hainer all turned their backs.
The divorce of Hainer and Anette became a fait accompli amid the swirling rumors. And it was quite a welcome development to the public.
People wanted her ruin. However, her position as the wife of the Commander-in-Chief set a limit on her misery.
To Anette, this place was hell as well, but from the outside, she merely appeared to be living out her days in peace with her eyes closed and ears plugged. To a degree, that wasn't wrong if one only looked at the surface.
So it was only natural that she was reviled—Anette thought with self-mockery.
She lay in bed, looking up at the molding of the lofty ceiling. Whenever she lay alone in this vast room, she felt like a corpse inside a coffin.
Anette tossed and turned, rolling onto her side. Several newspapers she had been reading earlier lay scattered on the floor. One evening paper carried an article that enumerated and condemned the prices of every dress and jewel she had once owned.
"If you read even a few lines of the newspaper, you would know."
'Ah, the newspaper.'
Anette did read the newspapers. The problem was she couldn't finish them.
She closed her eyes, but the encroaching headache kept sleep at bay. The migraines that had initially begun as stress-induced gradually became chronic. The days she could only court sleep by taking headache medicine or sleeping pills grew more frequent.
Knock, knock.
Suddenly, there was a knock. Anette lay facing the wall, still as death. Then the bedroom door opened without a sound.
Watching the sliver of light that leaked in fall upon the wall, Anette held her breath. Heavy footsteps echoed through the desolate room.
"Madame."
Hainer perched on the edge of the bed and called to her in a quiet voice.
"Anette."
Anette did not answer. It was less that she didn't wish to respond, and more that she simply had no strength. Her head ached as well.
From behind her, Hainer sighed softly.
"I know you are not asleep. Just listen."
"..."
"I do not know if you are aware, but a marriage proposal has come from someone in parliament. I had no intention of accepting and planned to refuse quietly, but the article was published... In any case, my decision will not change."
"..."
"If you were hoping for it, I am telling you to give up."
There was a brief pause, as if he were choosing his words.
"Your... leaving this place."
He acted as though he were determined not to utter the word "divorce." As if the heavens would fall if he spoke it.
"...People say that."
She could sense Hainer leaning into her voice. Lying on her side, Anette spoke slowly.
"They say I ought to have been completely ruined, yet here I am living well thanks to being the Commander-in-Chief's wife. They ask why the Commander-in-Chief won't divorce that woman. Though he helped the revolutionary army... since he was once the subordinate of a count and a legion commander, they say he must not have been able to discard those old habits."
"Such words are, in any case..."
"They say I am a blemish on you. That is what people say."
Anette slowly pushed herself up to sit. Strands of golden hair slid over her shoulders and tumbled down her back.
Anette turned to face Hainer. Up close, his face was shrouded in darkness, appearing pitch-black. They were eyes that knew no joy.
Once upon a time, Anette had loved the joy of a lover. She had loved the smiling face and the tender voice. But none of it had been real.
Hainer Valdemar had been a truly excellent spy.
"To go so far as to suffer losses for this, do you still hold such a grudge against me?"
"Anette—you do not know where or how well you might live if you leave this place."
"Are you afraid I have hidden assets in places unknown to you?"
Anette laughed aloud. It was absurd that Hainer would say such a thing. Was he not a man who knew everything in the world and saw it all through from the palm of his hand?
"I have nothing, and nowhere to turn. As you know."
"Have you forgotten that you contacted your father's former associates to dig into my past?"
"They are in prison; how could they help me? Besides, it has been quite a while since I began digging into your past. In the intervening time, they have all been executed or transferred to the island camp. I can call out their names if you wish."
"Your father had formidable connections. One never knows where else those ties might lead. I am sure you know that some who fled are living comfortably in exile abroad."
"I promise not to leave the country. I promise to take nothing from this house. All I need is a divorce."
"...Since you desire it so fervently, I am even less inclined to grant it."
Having discarded even the barest pretense of acting or artifice, Hainer spoke with a completely cold face.