Chapter 03
I followed the man to the Navy headquarters. The brutal sound from earlier still echoed in my ears.
After walking along the road for a while, a large modern building came into view.
The neatly laid tiles below reflected the sunlight.
As we entered the building, a soldier, as large as a bear, spotted the man and hurried over. He saluted respectfully and spoke.
“Colonel, you’ve arrived.”
The man returned a brief salute, and the soldier lowered his hand before glancing at me with curiosity.
“And who is this woman…?”
The man introduced me as a bereaved family member. At that, the soldier moved to guide me.
“Oh…! Then please, this way—”
The man raised a hand, stopping him.
“I’ll guide her myself.”
“Huh?”
The soldier’s small eyes widened in surprise.
He scratched the back of his head awkwardly before stepping back.
“Ah… Understood.”
As I followed the man down to the basement, navy personnel bustled about, each engaged in their tasks.
Yet, whenever they saw the man, they stopped to salute. Many of them glanced at me with curiosity, unable to hide their interest.
But I paid them no mind.
“Have the other families already visited? I don’t see any outsiders besides me.”
“Most of them have come and gone,” the man replied, opening a door at the bottom of the stairs.
Inside, more navy personnel greeted the man with strict formality.
After walking a bit further, someone approached.
“Commander, we’ve retrieved all the belongings from the Baltic fleet.
We should be able to return them to the families within the deadline.”
Commander?
The way the navy officers had been addressing the man made me uneasy.
Colonel. Baltic Fleet. Commander…
It didn’t take long for me to realize why I felt so unsettled.
“Johannes Schultz?”
I looked up at the man in shock. My lips, which had been tightly shut, parted slightly, and a faint gasp escaped.
“You’re… the Duke Schultz?”
At my hesitant question, the man raised an eyebrow. Then, in an indifferent tone, he confirmed,
“If you’re asking about my birthright, then yes.”
“My god…”
I stood frozen, unable to speak for a moment.
I thought I was the only one burdened with tragedy. But the true sufferer was someone else.
This man had witnessed his father’s execution with his own eyes and had to endure the crowd’s hateful accusations.
Yet, how could he remain so calm? How could he face such pain without flinching?
“How—”
“Are you asking how I can act like nothing happened?”
I slowly nodded. Johannes Schultz didn’t answer. He simply resumed walking.
Down the long, stark white corridor, we walked in silence. Eventually, he stopped in front of a door, placed his hand on the handle, and said,
“A crime was committed, and so the punishment was deserved. That’s what my father taught me.”
I inhaled sharply.
There wasn’t even the slightest tremor in his voice. He spoke as if discussing a stranger’s fate, completely detached.
“But how can you not even question it? What if he was wrongly accused—”
“Would that change anything?”
“What?”
He slowly turned his head, locking his deep blue eyes onto mine.
“A soldier must obey orders, regardless of reason. And now, the king gives the orders.”
I had nothing to say.
Maybe it was just my imagination, but for a brief moment, I thought I saw sorrow flicker in his eyes.
“This is the morgue. Are you ready to confirm the body?”
His face had returned to its usual unreadable expression. Was I ready to see my father’s body?
Instead of answering, I gave a slow nod. He pulled the door open.
The morgue was colder than anywhere else. A strange, unpleasant mix of chemicals and decay filled the air.
Scanning the room, I spotted a nameplate on one of the beds. It had my father’s name on it.
“The body is more decomposed than the others.
It may be difficult to look at.”
“…It’s fine. I have to see for myself that it’s him.”
I had spoken with confidence, but the moment I saw the body—
“Guh…!”
A wave of nausea hit me. I barely managed to cover my mouth and staggered out of the room.
It took a long time for me to regain my composure. When I did, I felt nothing but self-loathing.
How disappointed would my father be?
Steeling myself, I re-entered the morgue.
My father’s body was so badly decomposed that it was almost unrecognizable. The overwhelming stench made my stomach churn. His body was covered in deep purple bruises, battered and ruined.
I was hit with another shock.
Could a body this decayed be my father’s?
“Is this him…?”
I wasn’t looking for an answer. I just needed to say it out loud to confront the reality.
Johannes didn’t respond.
As I reached out and held my father’s hand, I noticed something strange. The skin was damp and slippery—an unfamiliar sensation.
From the corner of my eye, I saw the navy officers awkwardly turning their heads away, unable to watch. But I had no time to care about them.
I shut my eyes tight.
The touch of his cold, lifeless hand—made everything feel real.
My father was truly gone.
But then, I noticed something odd. His hand felt different from what I remembered. I hurriedly lifted it to examine it.
“…This isn’t my father’s hand.”
I snapped my head toward Duke Schultz. His eyebrows lifted slightly. I quickly continued, stumbling over my words.
“My father’s right index finger—it’s crooked. I know for sure! So that means… that means he might still be alive—”
My words faltered.
Then, one of the navy officers, the only one besides Schultz who hadn’t turned away, spoke cautiously.
“Sir… I don’t mean to be insensitive, but during decomposition, the body swells and stiffens. It might have just straightened out temporarily.”
“But—”
“We recovered all personal belongings from the body. They all belonged to Isaac Prim.”
Schultz interrupted, handing me a box of my father’s belongings.
“Ah…”
The small glimmer of hope vanished. My heart sank into despair.
It was true.
The navy badge was engraved with Isaac Prim’s name. His uniform.
The handkerchief I had embroidered for him.
Seeing those items shattered the control I had maintained over my emotions.
Tears threatened to fall. I bit my lip hard, gripping the burial cloth over my father’s body.
At some point, all the other navy officers had left the room. Only Johannes Schultz remained by my side.
A quiet voice broke the silence.
“You can cry.”
Coming from someone who had suffered the same pain, those simple words felt more comforting than anything else.
Even if he hadn’t meant them that way.
In the end, I couldn’t hold back.
I collapsed beside my father, burying my face and sobbing.
A large hand hesitated in the air before gently patting my back.
For a long time, I let myself grieve.
