Why Me

16

Seeing the shock etched on Christina’s face, I finally registered that I’d barged in without knocking.

But to leave, knock, and then re-enter seemed idiotic, so I decided to brazen it out.

Regardless, she really is messed up.

I knew it was insensitive to think this about a patient, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away, so weird.

“D-Director?!”

“How is your condition?”

“I-I’m…alright… ish…”

Alright, my butt. Judging by the fact that she was just crying, she was clearly in terrible pain.

Then again, having your stomach sliced through probably wasn’t a walk in the park.

Come to think of it, she’s in enough pain to cry, and then her boss shows up. It must be incredibly uncomfortable, so I should probably just get out of here.

“Rest then.”

“W-wait!”

I turned to leave, but my sleeve was tugged. I looked back to see Christina staring up at me, her eyes brimming with tears.

“D-don’t leave…”

It was an almost unimaginable vulnerability, considering she was someone that ripped people to shreds with her bare hands.

It seemed Christina was no different when it came to feeling lonely when in pain.

Since there wasn’t anything pressing, I nodded my agreement and pulled up a chair beside her.

“…………”

“Why the staring?”

“Ah!? S-sorry.”

No need to apologize for that.

Still, sitting there in silence felt a tad dull, so I retrieved my ever-present notebook and pen, planning to jot down a list of tasks for the week.

Let’s see, I tackled the bathroom last week, so that’s alright for now. But the laundry’s piled up dangerously high. Best get to it sometime today or tomorrow?

And I should stock up on groceries before things get desperate… ah, not again. The pen’s run dry.

Barely switched to a new one, or so it seemed. Was it really already finished?

I struggled to force the stubborn ink onto the page, pressing harder and harder. Christina, who had been quietly observing my efforts, finally spoke.

“The Minister… you don’t just throw it away?”

“Don’t throw it away.”

Why would I? Just replace the refill and it’s good as new. And this is a decent pen, you know.

I’d been using it steadily since receiving it as a gift about five years back, making it something I felt particularly attached to.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why don’t you throw it away?”

“Silly question. Does one need a reason to not discard what’s theirs?”

It wasn’t exactly something to brag about, but I tended to use things until they were truly beyond repair, if possible.

There’s a certain satisfaction in using something to its absolute limit. Those who know, know.

“The Minister’s…?”

“Who else’s would it be?”

“T-that’s impossible! Absolutely, positively not!”

“Good, you understand.”

Hmm. Still nothing. Seems the refill is completely empty.

Resigned, I slipped the notebook and pen back into my inner pocket.

Must remember to buy a new one on the way home.

“U-um, Minister?”

“What is it?”

“Could you…hold my hand?”

A hand?

It wasn’t a difficult thing.

Without thinking, I took the outstretched hand, only to realize belatedly…

This was the hand that had torn people apart.

“I, just a short nap…”

“Christina?”

I tried frantically to pull my hand away, but escaping Christina’s grip with my own strength was impossible.

This was bad. Christina had fallen asleep in the meantime, what was I supposed to do?

I was contemplating whether to call the guards waiting outside in the worst case, but soon I realized something was off.

It hurt. Or rather, it was starting to hurt.

The hand held by Christina.

Wait a moment. This really hurt.

Huh?

Pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain!

It wasn’t just that the blood wasn’t circulating! It felt like my bones were turning to powder in real time!

How could a hand be held like this? Surely bone and flesh were unharmed, yet only excruciating pain was being transmitted.

How did this even happen! Was it some kind of assassin’s unique technique!

Cold sweat trickled down.

Dangerous. My consciousness was fading!

Ah—

—

“Ung…?”

Awakening from her sleep, Christina looked around.

The minister was still beside her, just as he had been before she fell asleep.

Holding her hand tightly.

“Minister?”

She called out, but no answer came.

Only then did she realize the minister was asleep, and she quietly turned her body towards him.

‘He said he wouldn’t abandon me. He even said I was his.’

That was the thing she wanted most to hear in the world.

As if she had somehow glimpsed the secret thoughts of her heart, the Director spoke the words Christina so desperately craved with uncanny precision.

‘So it is. I was always the Director’s.’

She felt a wave of self-reproach. The thought of ending her own life was something she should never, ever entertain.

‘Because my body, my heart, my very life, all of it belongs to the Director.’

The sudden realization of this fact made her heart pound painfully in her chest.

The sound of its frantic beat resonated directly in her ears.

Without thinking, she raised the hand she held with the Director, and pressed it against her breast.

It backfired.

Her heart pounded even harder, a wild thing.

‘Ugh…’

It hurt.

But it felt… good.

—

Due to the nature of its work, the Imperial Intelligence Bureau enjoyed certain privileges.

The Owl’s ‘right to kill’ was a prime example, no doubt.

It was something that should never be permitted in ordinary society, but the Empire showed absolutely no mercy toward those it deemed enemies.

Therefore, not only the Owl, but the Intelligence Bureau itself, possessed numerous privileges, one of which was the ‘right to torture’.

“Speak. Who are you? What are you?”

“………”

“The size of your organization? Your base of operations? Do you know anything about your leader?”

“………”

The basement of the Intelligence Bureau.

There, a man was suspended from a chain attached to the ceiling, surrounded by a throng of agents.

The appearance of the intruder, captured by the Owl last night while attempting to infiltrate the Director’s office, was wretched.

His fingernails and toenails had been torn out, blood still oozing; his body, beaten with clubs and seared with branding irons, was so battered that it was barely recognizable.

Frustrated by the intruder’s continued silence, one of the agents grabbed a handful of salt and rubbed it into the bleeding wounds. The intruder writhed in agony.

“Ughh…!”

“It seems you’re under some kind of misapprehension, but we don’t need you to talk. You dared to target the Director. If you thought you’d be granted an easy death for such audacity, I’m afraid you are sorely mistaken.”

Strictly speaking, the intruders had been after the documents in the Director’s office, not the Director himself, but from the Intelligence Bureau’s perspective, either way, it could only be interpreted as a threat against the Director.

The agents continued their brutal torture with an attitude that truly suggested speech was optional.

They even administered treatment at times, solely to prolong the agony as much as possible.

It was when the man’s spirit, not just his body, was on the verge of breaking from over twenty-four hours of ceaseless torture and deprivation of sleep that the Minister visited the torture chamber.

—

I’d intended to come yesterday, but a visit to see Kristina in hospital ended with me fainting, and I clean forgot.

Ah, they were going at it pretty intensely again.

Though little more than a figurehead, I’d been the Minister of Intelligence for over a decade, and had witnessed scenes like this countless times.

Yet, I could never quite get used to the sight of one person inflicting such malicious violence upon another.

“Lower him.”

“Yes, sir.”

The man, suspended from the ceiling by the agents, was dropped to the floor.

Couldn’t they have been a little gentler?

I approached the man, placed the water bottle I’d brought before him, and said,

“Drink.”

“…”

The man flinched at the sight of the bottle, but that was all.

Strange. He should be parched by now.

“Can’t you move?”

“…”

Bending down, I raised the man’s upper body and brought the bottle directly to his lips.

Like a traveler discovering an oasis in the desert, he began to gulp down the water.

Leaving him seated after he had emptied the bottle, I rose and questioned the agents.

“Did he say anything?”

“He hasn’t uttered a single word as of yet.”

Then what was the point of torturing him? It was utterly meaningless.

“Release him. And don’t forget to administer treatment before you do.”

“Yes, sir.”

Having finished my business, I went back upstairs.

The man, cast out beyond the borders, ran.

Mocking the hopelessly naive minister.

He couldn’t believe it. That buffoon was the Iron-Blooded Minister?

Just in case, he surveyed his surroundings, but for days after escaping the jurisdiction, there was no surveillance, nor did he encounter a soul.

Completely relieved, the man ran, savoring the joy of survival.

The wounds from torture throbbed, but pain was proof of life, so the more it hurt, the more he laughed.

Running and running, the man finally arrived at the ‘Swamp.’

And with that, the man’s role came to an end.

“So, that must be the cave.”

“………?”

The man couldn’t understand.

Why a blade was piercing his chest.

He never realized.

That it wasn’t that there was no surveillance, but that he simply hadn’t noticed it.

“Foolish man. If you had spoken when you were asked, you could have died without clinging to false hope.”

The agent withdrew the sword, and the man’s body slumped forward.

In his final moments, the man understood.

Why the Minister’s moniker was, of all things, ＜Iron-Blooded＞.

—

“We’ll take it from here.”

At John’s words, the agents scattered in all directions.

To create distance and find better vantage points in case of an emergency, that is, in case the Owls were defeated.

“Let’s go.”

The Owls, except for Christina who was still hospitalized, moved into the cave following their leader’s command.

This time, there was no room for doubt.

An incredibly powerful presence was emanating from within.

“There are many of them. Don’t lower your guard.”

John, having reached the cave entrance and drawn his sword, was about to thrust it inwards when…

Suddenly, the cave exploded outwards, spewing out a horde of the new monsters recently dubbed ‘Hybrids.’

But what truly captivated the attention of the Owl members was the colossal being that emerged as the dust settled.

“Fools! How dare you trespass upon this place!”

The creature that spat out the old man’s voice was a truly grotesque sight.

At first glance, it resembled a giant, but a closer look revealed a horrifying amalgamation of monster traits, a being beyond easy description.

“I’ll handle this one. You all deal with the rest of the hybrids.”

And so, the battle commenced.

—

“You were searching for me?”

“Yes.”

Without my knowledge, my capable subordinates raided the base of those who attacked the intelligence bureau a few days prior, defeating their leader. And now, suddenly, this individual claims to be seeking me out.

Why me?