Annette nodded as if to say she understood. As her father always said, criminals inevitably claimed they had committed no crime.
Having concluded it was nothing of significance, she stood before her parents and the photographer. A blissful smile graced her entire face.
“Taking the picture! One, two, three—”
Because the shutter speed was slow, Annette had to remain perfectly still for quite a while. While pouring her heart into maintaining a beautiful smile, the commotion that had occurred in front of the concert hall vanished from her mind.
“Mother, I'll step away for a moment to rest. The scent of flowers is giving me a headache.”
“The dean will be arriving soon. You must return quickly.”
As the crowd surrounding them gradually thinned, Annette went to the window to catch her breath for a moment. Her heart thumped heavily with tension that had yet to subside and the lingering excitement after the performance.
Annette let out a long breath—*hoo*—and rested her hand against the window frame. Something caught her eye as she casually glanced outside.
In front of the concert hall doors, two burly men were struggling to drag a woman out. The brown-haired woman clung to a streetlamp, hanging on for dear life.
So that was the commotion her father had spoken of. Annette frowned faintly as she observed the woman. From the second-floor window, the situation at the entrance appeared quite close.
“—!”
The sound of a scream carried through the closed window. After several scuffles, one of the woman's arms gripping the streetlamp was pulled away.
Dragging out a woman whose strength had completely faded was not a difficult task. Soon, the woman, both arms seized, was dragged away.
The woman thrashed and resisted until the very end. A face plastered thick with rage, attachment, and despair turned toward the second-floor window. Annette involuntarily took a step back.
Ah, that face.
An inexplicable chill and revulsion crept up her legs. It was as though she had glimpsed the very bottom of humanity. Annette tried to shake off the lingering afterimage, left with an unpleasant feeling.
Suddenly, someone grabbed Annette's shoulders. Startled, she spun around as if leaping.
“Kyah!”
Ansga stood there grinning, both hands raised as if in surrender. He squinted his eyes and spoke teasingly.
“What is it, why are you so surprised? Were you thinking something strange?”
“Strange thoughts? What...! It's because you grabbed me so suddenly.”
“Sorry, sorry. But why is the star of the show here? I thought you were calling me over to talk.”
“Ah, it seemed something was happening outside.”
“Something? What something? There's nothing there.”
“No, it's just someone who refused to accept the verdict....”
Annette trailed off and looked back. The woman had already been dragged away. Outside was peaceful, as if nothing had ever happened.
Annette turned back and spoke in a flat voice.
“...She was causing a commotion.”
***
The woman in her memory and the expressionless face before her overlapped.
Annette slowly lowered the hand that had been covering her mouth. Her throat was parched. She reached for the teacup, but her trembling was so severe that it clattered loudly.
“My older brother was executed by firing squad the next morning. He couldn't appeal. It wasn't a trial to begin with.”
Annette barely managed to moisten her throat, but the tea tasted of nothing.
“When I heard the news that the royal family had fallen, I hoped. I hoped that man would properly apologize and receive fitting punishment. But the next morning, the newspaper carried news of the Count's death. That he was killed on the spot after firing wildly at revolutionary troops in the mansion... Well, that's how it ended. Without ever hearing an apology.”
As Catherine's words continued, Annette's face grew paler by the moment. It was a precarious face, as though it would shatter at the slightest touch.
Annette swallowed a groan with difficulty. A ringing somewhere in her mind overlapped with Catherine's voice.
“This is not something I say hoping for leniency or reconciliation. I believe there are situations where violence becomes the only language, but this was not such a situation. My younger brother committed terrible acts against you, my lady, who were the weaker party. I have nothing to say about that. My brother had to be punished.”
“...”
“But I just... I wanted to tell you, at least once. I thought that you should know how my brother died.”
Catherine lowered her gaze for a moment, then looked at Annette again. A dry voice flowed out without inflection.
“Is ignorance a sin, or is it not? Can this truly be blamed on you? I still have not found an answer. Perhaps I may never find one in my lifetime. So I am not saying this because I think you are at fault, my lady.”
“...”
“This is all I wished to say. I bear you no further ill will. I sincerely express my deep regret for this matter. I hope you recover in body and spirit soon. ...Then.”
Catherine bowed briefly and rose from her seat. The sound of her coarse shoes echoed across the parlor floor. Until then, Annette had been unable to breathe.
“Annette!”
Why did I have to listen to this story?
“You have to run!”
Why had I wanted to hear it?
“Hurry, run—!”
Why did I... this story....
Catherine reached the door and grasped the handle. The cold sensation of the metal seeped into her skin. The moment she tried to turn the handle.
“I'm sorry....”
At those thinly uttered words, Catherine's movement stopped dead.
“I'm sorry....”
A tightly restrained voice cracked wretchedly. Annette paused for a moment, then bowed her head. Blue veins bulged on the back of the hand gripping her skirt.
“Truly, I am sorry....”
Heavy tears fell, leaving damp marks on her clothes.
“I'm sorry....”
Annette repeated those words through streaming tears. She did not know what else she should say. She merely repeated futile apologies like a broken machine.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Truly, I'm sorry....
Catherine turned her head to look at Annette's back. Her face seemed numb at a glance, but upon it rippled an old sorrow.
“...Yes.”
As the sobbing voice gradually subsided, Catherine quietly murmured.
“I wanted to hear those words from someone.”
***
She had once said this to Heiner.
“All the newspapers say the remnants of dictatorship must be completely destroyed. I'm not sure what part of me must be destroyed, but if they wish it, I don't mind.”
They had been words closer to resignation. They were not words spoken because she truly understood them, felt guilt, or wished to apologize.
Looking back, she had never once tried to understand them. She had never even thought that she ought to.
For a person to understand another person—there must be points shared in life.
Annette had believed there were no such points between the revolutionary army and herself. Even though she was currently entangled with them, those were things she had been unaware of, and thus not of the sort that were “shared.”
“That day, you had a piano recital.”
Yet from a position completely opposite, they had shared a moment in life.
Annette still could not understand Catherine's life. She could not dare claim to understand. It would be arrogance and deceit.
A noble inheriting royal blood, and a commoner.
A woman who had received higher education and dreamed of becoming a pianist, and a woman who sold fruit at the market.
The family of a military commander who arrested revolutionaries, and the family of an executed revolutionary.
Even if she spent the rest of her life piecing together fragments of the past, Annette would never be able to fully understand them. It was an immutable fact that their paths had already diverged.
Yet the reason she had wanted to hear her story was to face the past.
To know and to judge.
To understand them.
Even if it wounded herself....
A cloud swept once across the parlor, bright with the afternoon sun.
Perhaps she had known deep in her heart. The moment she understood them even a little, truly nothing could be turned back.
In the empty room, Annette wept for a long time.
***
Annette organized her things and took out ledgers and documents from the safe. They were materials regarding donations and sponsorships for civic organizations.
After preparing the final financial statements, she organized them so her successor could easily review them. She had been preparing step by step for quite some time, so the work was finished before long.
Annette took out a sheet of paper and wrote a letter of leniency for David Berkel. Then, timing it with Heiner's departure from work, she went to his office.
Though it was slightly past quitting time, Heiner was still working. When Annette entered the office, Heiner looked up, recognizing the sound of her footsteps.
“...My lady.”
It was different from how he normally wouldn't even look away from his documents, but Annette didn't think deeply about it.
She approached the desk and held out a sheet of paper. Heiner's brow furrowed.
“What is this?”
“A letter of leniency.”
“Why are you writing this?”
“Because it is my right.”
“I mean there is no need to write it. What did Catherine say to you?”
“Heiner, this is my right.”
“...”
“And my choice.”