Chapter 39: CH 39

***

Crackle.

Anne lit the firewood. Soon there was a crackling sound and red dots began to arise on the surface. Deon spoke as he looked at the map on which he had placed the compass.

“It’s only 47 kilometers to go from here.”

“Why is that ‘only’?”

“It’s ‘only’ for this much. Think of the distance we’ve traveled so far, man.”

“Ha—I don’t think I can feel my legs.”

“I’ve long since lost my senses.”

“Oh my God, can you hear the wind? We just walked through it.”

Trivial talk was exchanged. Voices, not loud, rumbled through the cave. Heiner silently stirred the stew in his tin can.

It was originally forbidden for colleagues to get to know each other beyond a certain degree. Personal feelings would interfere with the operation.

The members of the team were also afraid to develop friendships among themselves. Since the survival rate during operations was usually not very high, it was not wise to show affection to those who would soon be separated.

However, this time, the members were people who had crossed the threshold of life and death together in a previous long-term project. Regardless of intentions or reason, they had no choice but to become closer to some extent.

“Why does Heiner look so serious?”

“He has that face to begin with, that guy.”

“Did he put drugs in our food? He’s actually a spy for France!”

Anne replied with a chuckle.

“I think we’ve been resistant to the drug.”

“You have a point. Didn’t they give us a lot of injections at the training camp?”

“The one that suppresses emotions? But does that really work?”

“At any rate, I think it really has affected Heiner.”

“Do you think it really worked, Heiner?”

“Especially since I feel like my loyalty has increased a little.”

Heiner replied with a shrug. If the drug had really suppressed his emotions, he would never have come to the situation he was in now.

“Yes, I agree. It doesn’t work in my opinion. I have a girlfriend.”

“Why would you date if you can’t even marry?”

“What’s the big deal about marriage? All you have to do is love now.”

“What would you do if your lover was taken hostage during an operation?”

“Then …… I can’t help it.”

“You’re going to give up your lover?”

“If I don’t give up, then what should I do!”

“You still have some reason left in you.”

Anne and Jackson continued to bicker. Heiner divided the stew into separate bowls without any change in expression.

The seemingly light tone of the conversation sounded like everyday talk, but the actual situation was not. If anyone said anything that showed signs of insubordination, it was to be immediately reported to the Marquis. They would then be interrogated and tortured.

After receiving his stew, Jackson took a sip and said. “If I were the Sutherlane instructor, I would never let you make something so important in your life. That could be a weakness.”

“I’ve always heard kids who don’t have anything important in life say things like that.”

“Is there?”

“What? Not my country.”

“My dog.”

“If you don’t have something so important, you make an example out of a baby animal?”

“All the animal lovers in the world can kill for them.”

“Hey, hey, be thankful you have something important. I can’t think of anything.”

Deon said curtly, folding the map into a crumpled mess. He added softly, tucking the compass into his pocket.

“I value precious things very much. It’s so rare for us to have that in our lives. So you guys hold on to it. Don’t let them take it from you.”

“You’re stating the obvious!”

Anne asked Heiner as she slammed Deon’s arm.

“Heiner, what do you hold dear? A hidden lover?”

“Hey, does a woodstone like him have a lover?”

“There are a surprising number of women who like that kind of wood stone type. Anyway, do you have anything valuable? What would you do if you could? Would you take good care of it? Are you the obsessive type?”

Heiner answered Anne’s barrage of questions curtly.

“Even if I try to cherish it, it’s useless.” (H)

“How can you say it’s useless?”

“Generally, what’s important to me is also important to others…………. There are  people better than us. They’re going to take it anyway.” (H)

“That’s a statement that really brings tears to my eyes, from a position where I’ve lived deprived my whole life. So what are you going to do? Open both eyes and let them just take your precious thing away?”

Heiner mumbled as he stared at the stew.

“If you can’t hide it perfectly………. you might as well break it. So that it is no longer precious to others.” (H)

“What the heck, then it won’t be precious to you either.”

“Well…”

“Yes, thank you for your psychopathic reply.”

Heiner smiled dryly as he held his stew.

As a young boy he kept his broken music box. No one wanted broken things anymore, but it was still precious to him.

Perhaps he was broken. All the trainees on Sutherlane Island live with a tattered spirit, but perhaps he was more broken than they were.

So much so that he couldn’t value the precious things.

His feelings for the girl were probably not normal either.The more he thought about a precious object, the more unhappy he became, probably because it was wrong from the beginning to the end.

Heiner put down the stew and took out a cigar. He placed the end of the cigar against the firewood, lit it, and put it between his lips.

The white cigar smoke spread along with the wood smoke. He leaned his back against the wall and closed his eyes.

Endless crumbling thoughts rose like haze. She was always in the cause and effect.

I know you, but you don’t know me.

I gaze at you, but you don’t see me.

I think of you, but you don’t think of me.

The heart, deformed from the start, became more distorted and coarse the more it grew. The image of the young boy who genuinely loved the girl’s performance had long since faded.

Heiner slowly exhaled the smoke he had been holding for so long. A bittersweet taste drifted over his tongue. He flicked off the ashes.

Precious things always made him unhappy. Like the broken music box. And like her, who was unreachable.

If such an emotion was so important, it would be better to have nothing at all.

***

The operation was almost a failure.

Someone tipped off the operatives that they were being spied on, and the entire operative team, except Jackson, was captured by France’s Labor Party members.

Heiner was confined to a dark, damp cell. It was also a place he was quite familiar with. The only difference was that the screams and cries of others coming from the torture chamber could be heard in graphic detail.

At times, Heiner could recognize his colleagues. It was closer to an animal’s voice than a person’s, but he could clearly distinguish whose it was.

Heiner made an effort to remain calm. Torture itself was an easy way to break a person, but creating a sense of fear in a situation where one did not know when the torture would begin was another way to drive a person crazy.

It was even more effective here, where one could hear the screams of their colleagues vividly.

Unknown amount of time passed in the darkness. At one moment, the cell door opened with an old creaking sound.

A total of three people stood in front of the door. They were neither officers nor interrogators. They were guards dressed in brown uniforms and carrying clubs.

Their legs crossed into the cell. Heiner looked ahead without changing his expression. They did not carry him into the interrogation room or drag him to a cold chair.

They began beating Heiner without saying anything.

Heiner’s body bent at his waist. A rumbling sound popped out of his throat. The guards kicked him again.

Soon he collapsed to the floor. Fists, feet, clubs, palms, and chairs alike attacked his body.

Heiner let out muffled groans and screams as he crouched like a dying animal.

His whole body seemed to be torn into pieces. He would rather have fainted, but his mind was clearer with each blow.

He shook like mad, as if something was broken. He vomited on the ground. But no food came out, just sour water.

After a long beating, the guards spat on him and left the cell. Heiner was thrown like a sack on the cold floor, his body shook violently.

Bang. The door slammed shut.

Consciousness blinked and flashed. Heiner’s eyelids trembled as if in a seizure. He closed his eyes, short of breath.

He fainted several times and started over. When he finally came to, the guards were in his cell.

They began beating him again. His unrecovered body screamed. A completely unfamiliar pain engulfed his brain.

The stone floor was wet with blood and water. Heiner was beaten, passed out, slowly regained consciousness, writhing in his pain, then was beaten again.

The words of begging for help rose to the top of his throat. But in the end, he didn’t spit it out. The moment he let those words out, it would be all over.

At one point, the guards dragged Heiner out of his cell. He was made to sit on a cold steel chair in the interrogation room.

But he was too dazed to properly perceive the situation. The interrogator, wearing rimless glasses, folded his hands across from him, said,

“Now let’s have a little conversation.”

***