Chapter 52
Vincent strode down the gloomy corridor, whistling to himself.
It was a place steeped in the stench of death, lingering ever since the days under Beldam’s rule.
When he had first walked these halls, he’d made a silent vow: he would trample over enough victims to completely bury any trace of his countrymen.
He had lived by that thought alone.
But today felt different.
Whatever happened to the other Beldam dogs didn’t matter to him anymore.
There was only one person he cared about now.
He hated Giles Hessen.
He despised him.
That slick, well-bred face dripping with the arrogance of noble upbringing…
That pompous attitude of someone who had joined the Ipswin Revolution as if he were born to it…
It was absurd.
To Vincent, the very fact that the revolutionary army had accepted that man was an unforgivable contradiction.
At this rate, Giles would completely erase his past and rise again as a “hero of the revolution.”
That was something Vincent refused to see happen.
Surely that bastard must have a weakness.
He had watched Giles like a snake lying in the grass, waiting for the right moment to strike.
At the first hint of a crack, he’d destroy the fragile foundation that supported the man’s position.
After waiting so long… at last, as though fate were rewarding his patience, an intriguing person appeared before his eyes.
Anna Keating.
A beautiful and promising pianist.
Through her, Giles Hessen had found happiness.
At first, that fact enraged Vincent.
Then came the slow, creeping desire to possess her himself.
He wondered, almost with fascination, what Giles’s face would look like if Anna were taken away from him.
But such curiosity faded quickly.
Vincent was not a man who took much interest in romantic pursuits.
Why waste time with women when he could spend it tormenting another Beldam wretch?
Ironically, that very indifference made him all the more obsessed with Anna.
He pushed open the interrogation room door.
Inside, a pitiful-looking man sat tied to a chair, waiting for him.
Vincent took a seat across the table and pressed the button on the recorder.
The room filled with crackling static and muffled voices.
“That can’t be true.”
“What can’t?”
“The negotiations—there’s no way they failed! You’re lying. You’re just saying that to torture me. I trust Beldam. My… my country wouldn’t abandon me!”
“You think you’re so important that Beldam would scramble to save you?”
A mocking laugh tore through the silence.
“You’re nothing. The country runs just fine without you. No—worse than fine. It’s already fallen apart, lost everything. What’s a few more dead citizens on top of that?”
“You filthy Ipswin bastard!”
A dull crack sounded, followed by a scream.
“Now, calm down. My point is this: you’re going to be sent home soon anyway, so drop that nonsense about keeping your mouth shut out of loyalty.
Because Beldam abandoned you first. You’re going to die like a dog here, and what good will your faith do you then?”“……”
“All I want is one thing: what happened on the train. Everything you saw and heard—don’t leave out a single detail.”
Without taking his eyes off the agent, Vincent pressed the fast-forward button.
After a few moments, the voices resumed.
“You’re a tiring one, aren’t you? Barely a few hits and you’re already drifting in and out?”
“S-stop…”
“Look at me. Look me in the eye! Snap out of it, you stupid bastard. What’s your name? Can you tell me your name?”
“Uhh… uhh…”
“Your name! Say it!”
“Jürgen… Jürgen Bach.”
“Then who’s this man in the photo?”
“…Albert Lehmann.”
“And this woman? Try another lie and I’ll really kill you this time.”
“El…”
“That’s not her name. I said, who is she?”
The man kept muttering a single name under his breath.
There was a sigh—and then the sharp click of a gun being loaded.
The prisoner began to sob.
“Please… please…”
“I can see how loyal you are to Beldam.”
“No! I—I’m not lying! You… you haven’t let me sleep in days! There was another name, I… I just can’t remember…”
“What the hell are you babbling about?”
“Wait! Yes, that’s it! The surname—it was Bismar! That’s what he said. Bi… Bismar. Eloise Bismar…”
“……What?”
Click.
The recorder fell silent again.
The voice that had been babbling for its life now came from a man staring at Vincent with half-crazed, unfocused eyes.
Vincent slid a pen and sheet of paper across the table.
“Sign it. Put your name down, and as promised, I’ll send you back to Beldam.”
The man’s hand trembled as he took the pen.
It took a long time before the signature was complete.
When the final letter was written, Vincent snatched the page up.
“I hereby confirm that the statements in this transcript are entirely truthful and that I have reported everything I know without omission.”
Reading the declaration and the pathetic scrawl beneath it, Vincent smiled—a cold, satisfied grin.
It had been so long since he’d looked forward to something this much.
So that’s why he always went out of his way to protect that woman.
He knew it. He’d known it all along.
Now, only a sweet and satisfying moment awaited him.
All Vincent had to do was sit back and watch the man he hated fall apart.
A sense of unease wouldn’t leave him.
It felt as if something terrible could happen at any moment—like holding a ticking bomb in his arms.
Especially since the day Vincent had made that cryptic remark.
He couldn’t shake off the bad feeling and even considered hiding Anna somewhere safe.
But his worries proved unfounded—or seemed to.
For several days, nothing happened. No signs, no changes.
He visited Anna every day.
Each time, she was fine—completely fine.
Unlike him, she didn’t appear anxious or restless.
Anna was utterly absorbed in the upcoming concert.
The collaboration with the orchestra had captured all her focus, and it seemed to let her forget the tension of their situation, if only for a while.
Giles didn’t interfere.
He didn’t want to ruin the rare moments when Anna looked genuinely happy and absorbed.
He could handle the vigilance alone.
Anna was passionate about music more than anyone.
The piano—her only comfort and escape since childhood—remained her refuge even now.
When she played, she looked truly happy.
You didn’t even need to see her face; anyone could tell just by hearing the way she played.
The final rehearsal with the orchestra was in full swing.
Anna shot Giles a curious look as he insisted on accompanying her to the hall.
“Giles, is something wrong?”
He didn’t want to make her worry.
“It’s nothing.”
“You don’t seem like yourself lately.”
“Then I must’ve been neglecting you before.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Anna was quick-witted, with sharp instincts for survival.
No matter how he tried to hide it, she always saw through him in the end.
So Giles smiled for her—one last, reassuring smile.
“Don’t worry. Just focus on your rehearsal.”
She seemed like she wanted to ask more, but in the end, she left him and walked up to the stage.
There were no glittering dresses, no bright lights, yet she still shone as she sat before the piano.
To Giles, she was the true master of that grand hall.
The orchestra merely followed her lead.
It was the piano that set the tone, and Anna was its only rightful ruler.
If only she could have lived as an ordinary pianist.
Then she never would have met him.
A pure artist and a man tainted by a violent past—there was no reason their paths should have crossed.
If fate had been kinder, she could have lived freely, confidently, with her limitless talent shining for the world to see—never needing to hide who she was.
Someone from Ipswin, not Giles, would have loved her for a lifetime.
Would such a day ever come?
Would she ever know true peace?
Spring had come in full bloom.
And at last, the day of the concert arrived.
“I think I’m going to die.”
Anna muttered from where she lay face-down on the sofa in the waiting room, her face buried in a cushion.
Out in the hall, the orchestra was performing.
By seven in the evening, the seats were full, and after each performance, thunderous applause shook the air.
Anna would go last—hers was the finale performance.
That fact alone weighed heavily on her.
This wasn’t just her recital—it was the Ipswin Philharmonic’s concert as well.
“You’re a brilliant pianist, Anna,” Giles said.
“I can’t help being nervous.”
“You’ll do great.”
He sat beside her to offer comfort.
For once, she had managed to forget Vincent and the revolutionaries, focusing solely on the music.
That alone was enough to ease Giles’s mind.
“You might feel anxious now,” he said gently, “but once you sit at the piano, you’ll find your confidence again. I know you will.”
“How could you possibly know that?”
“Because you’ve never once lacked confidence in front of a piano.”
At that, Anna smiled faintly, regaining a bit of courage.
Then she suddenly remembered something.
“By the way,” she said, “the orchestra members seem kind of nervous.”
“Nervous? About messing up the performance?”
“No! Because of the soldiers. Ever since rehearsals, revolutionaries have been coming and going nonstop. Who wouldn’t be tense with armed men in uniforms hanging around?”
She laughed softly, the tension easing from her shoulders.
Giles didn’t reply right away—he just looked at her.
