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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Zaped
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Epigraph:
Fire and Ice / Robert Frost
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
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Hampton City, District 4.
Letitia’s Apartment.
“Ugh, ugh…”
Intelligence Officer Letitia woke from a nightmare.
She had dreamt of being naked, writhing between two giant slugs.
“Ha.”
She knew why she’d had such a dream.
The bed was damp, the sheets clinging stickily to her body.
“Haa…”
She pushed away the sheets, which resembled a frog’s forelegs, and sat on the edge of the bed.
Clutching her throbbing head, she looked down at the floor.
A mess.
Combat boots.
Dog tags. Uniform.
Expensive lingerie bought with saved-up pay.
Beer cans.
Liquor bottles.
Snack wrappers.
A water bottle.
Scattered everywhere.
At least her silver necklace wasn’t among them.
It was the only thing she was wearing.
8:00 AM.
Normally, she’d be rushing to get ready for work, but today was her day off.
Tomorrow she was on weekend duty.
‘I’ll catch up on work during my shift…’
The thought of work made not only her head but also her stomach clench.
The fifteen-page “report” flashed through her mind again.
A shiver ran down her spine.
“Alcohol. Alcohol…”
Soggy biscuits and a bit of whiskey.
A perfect breakfast.
She almost lifted the bottle to her lips, but decided against it, at least for breakfast.
She grabbed a carton of milk from the fridge and chugged it.
“Whoa!”
Milk spilled everywhere.
It soaked her chin and chest before dripping onto the floor.
Annoyed by the sour smell, she haphazardly wiped it up with her slipper.
She put the milk away, drank the whiskey, and chased it with a biscuit.
Goodbye, bad thoughts.
Farewell, work stress.
“Hee. Hee.”
A pleasant lassitude.
She squeezed out the last drop.
“No… more alcohol.”
She rummaged through the fridge and found a can of beer.
Click. Gulp, gulp.
She drank as if it were a lifeline, letting some of it dribble down her chin.
“Delicious breakfast. Hehe. One more.”
The fridge was empty except for canned food.
More valuable as currency on the black market than as actual food, but it could be easily traded for beer.
Whiskey, however, required food coupons.
Letitia’s unfocused eyes fixated on the empty whiskey bottle.
She held it up and pretended to kiss it, running her tongue around the rim.
“…What will I do without you?”
No.
This wouldn’t do.
She wanted to get drunk.
More, more drunk.
Work.
Work.
She needed to get that horrible report out of her head.
Sleep would be better.
Letitia returned to bed with the empty bottle, lying down without covering herself with the sheets.
“Haaa…”
A cool breeze washed over her body.
The slight chill felt good. – Him…
“Ah. Please… just stop.”
She covered her face with her hands.
Sleeping naked was a long-standing habit.
It started the day she was promoted to mid-level officer and moved out of the women’s dormitory into her own apartment.
The reward for her loyalty, earned while being called a “Römer’s lapdog.”
A gift to herself, celebrated alone with a bottle of liquor, without congratulations from anyone.
My own home.
The sense of relief and accomplishment it brought.
Overwhelmed, she kept drinking.
Unable to cool down, she shed her clothes layer by layer, finally falling asleep naked.
The next day, she woke up, muttering about being crazy, but the ingrained pleasure was impossible to erase.
Her secret ritual. The relief of a simmering pot finally boiling over.
Of course, Letitia was an elite officer, a woman known for her exceptional self-control.
She never showed this side of herself to others.
Instead, she returned home, nursing her doubled desires.
She drank stronger liquor than she had at the work dinner, falling asleep in a deeper state of liberation and exhaustion.
But even that became tedious.
There was nothing new.
She wondered if she would continue living like a hamster on a wheel.
Her already ample breasts grew larger, and she gained weight around her waist and stomach.
Not to mention her thickening thighs.
But that interrogation a few days ago.
That woman with empty eyes had unearthed what Letitia had tried so hard to bury with alcohol.
Cassandra Wilson.
Senior researcher at the Centers for Disease Control.
There was consistency in her testimony.
Consistency in testimony wasn’t just about a coherent narrative, but also the level of detail.
A statement was ultimately a recounting of one’s actions to another person.
People naturally became defensive.
If a defensive person described something in detail, there was an intention behind it.
And Cassandra’s statement was consistent even in its descriptions.
Each one was detailed, delicate, and sensual.
Letitia knew at a glance that the woman wasn’t sane, and she’d dismissed the fact that she called this ‘V’ person “him,” but there was desire in her statement.
A desire for belief.
A desperate need to be understood.
‘Römer’s lapdog. A vicious traitor who devours her own kind. A devil who sells people.’
The whispers echoed in her ears.
“…What did I do?”
Letitia covered her face.
Ring ring ring.
“Hello.”
• Attention. This is the intelligence officer. How are you feeling?
“…Much better, thanks to you.”
Why was this bastard calling her on her day off? Letitia wanted to curse.
“Why? What’s up?”
• Sorry to bother you on your day off. It’s just… there’s something you should know.
“Okay, what is it?”
Pressing her temples, she tried to answer politely.
The intelligence officer explained the situation.
It was easy to understand, but hard to accept.
“So, people held as slaves were admitted to the medical unit, and CDC personnel are treating them, and… their severed tendons reattached themselves? Explain that part again. Yes. Yes. What are the CDC people saying?”
• They keep repeating that severed tendons can’t reattach themselves, especially after so long. We can clearly see the severance marks. But they are definitely reattaching, albeit slowly.
“What did the commander say?”
• She said she’ll speak directly with the CDC director. It will probably be classified. She’s personally taking their statements.
Letitia was grateful for the heads-up.
Being on duty without this information would have been chaotic.
But to call her while she was feeling this awful…
• And, V was the one who told us where these slaves were.
“What?”
• The number we used to contact V, the one he left when he bought the bag. We were contacted from that number.
…It made sense.
“…A typical move for the Elza Intelligence Agency moderates. Working in the shadows, defeating gangs, and rescuing slaves.”
• I’d like to meet him someday.
“Me too. Anything else?”
• Nothing. Take care.
“Yeah.”
The phone rang again as soon as she hung up.
“Haa…”
Letitia answered.
• Hey, Letitia? You’re off today, I see.
“Brother?”
It was her older brother, Hameln.
He currently worked as a government official in Römer.
She would have been in serious trouble if she had answered with a string of curses.
• Why do you sound like that? Are you sick?
“Uh? Uh… just a cold.”
• Health is the most important thing.
“I know, I know… How are sis and the kids?”
• They’re all doing well. I heard Elza is in turmoil. Are you okay?
Letitia looked around her shabby apartment.
Piles of clothes. Sexy lingerie with no one to appreciate it.
Gleaming dog tags.
Combat boots standing at attention.
“I’m fine, brother. Everything’s fine.”
Letitia answered, pressing her forehead.
Her headache intensified.
• You said you had something to ask me last time. I was busy and couldn’t answer. Anything I can look into for you?
“Uh, yeah. It’s not important, just… personal. Is this line… secure?”
All calls outside of Elza were monitored.
Of course, this didn’t apply to those with “security clearance.”
• Of course not. What is it?
“Uh. No, I have a new… superior. Virginia Helford…”
Her brother seemed surprised.
• Virginia Helford? The White Viper of the Helford family? She’s your superior?
“Yes. Do you know anything about her… reputation? Even gossip… I have no information on her, and I need to know something to serve her properly…”
• Plenty. I can think of five things right now. The Helford family has held the position of Speaker of the Römer Senate for generations. There are so many rumors it’s hard to tell what’s true. There’s bound to be gossip. Okay, I’ll look into it.
“Thanks, brother.”
• Hey, but that’s great news! You’ve suffered so much under those incompetent old geezers. If someone from the Helford family is there, it’s probably because they need to boost their military record for promotion. There aren’t many soldiers who want to go from Römer to the Elza colony, so they get extra points for it.
Colony.
He wasn’t wrong.
Letitia smiled wryly.
“I thought so.”
• Latch onto her. If you can’t grab her hair, at least cling to her stockings. Who knows? She might take you as her personal adjutant since you’re competent and efficient. Many people have gone from Elza to Römer that way. You can’t stay there forever. Not someone like you.
“I understand.”
• My sister-in-law misses you a lot. The nieces and nephews too. If you’re seeing anyone…
“Brother. Thank you.”
• Letitia. You know I care about you. We’re all that’s left.
“Yes.”
The call ended. Letitia put down the phone after a long while.
Hearing her family’s voices made her think of that woman’s eyes.
Those suffocatingly empty green eyes.
The monotonous, emotionless voice reciting that testimony.
Wee-ooh!
A siren wailed.
Irritation surged through her.
Wee-ooh! Wee-ooh! Wee-ooh!
“Alright.”
Wee-ooh! Wee-ooh! Wee-ooh!
“I heard you!”
Letitia slumped to the floor.
Crawling back to bed, her head pounding, she was swallowed by the damp, cool sheets.
• Kill the Römer lapdog!
A hallucination.
Definitely a hallucination.
Letitia’s vision swam.
The delayed effects of the alcohol hit her.
Her lower abdomen ached dully.
She started giggling uncontrollably, drool dripping from the corner of her mouth.
She just… wanted to live well.
Like everyone else.
Like her brother with his family.
She wanted that too.
Meet a nice man, have beautiful children, show off her sexy lingerie, have annoying marital spats.
She just wanted an ordinary life.
A life of trust and mutual support.
The kind that the empty woman, the hollowed-out woman, the woman who called herself Cassandra, spoke of so casually. Letitia wanted that too.
She wanted it, but…
Now she was just annoyed that she wouldn’t be able to go to the black market today.
“Ugh… haa… huuuh…!”
The alcohol, consumed on an empty stomach, took hold.
Her body heated up again. Long-suppressed desires surged.
Desires that would never be fulfilled.
In the end, she sought solace in the bottle once more, drifting off to sleep.
Hoping to wake up to a starry night.
Hoping to go to the black market with her food ration coupons and cans.
Hoping to find more alcohol.
The Goddess of Hunger, engraved on her silver necklace, glittered in the morning sun.
But only for a moment.
Dark clouds were gathering. It looked like rain.
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“What’s with the sudden rain?”
Camilla complained.
I turned off the truck’s radio.
Rumble!
A downpour started, fat raindrops thudding against the truck’s roof.
Camilla suddenly opened her bag and pulled out a plastic bag containing toiletries.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to wash up.”
“Suddenly? Now?”
“I feel disgusting. Aren’t you going to wash up?”
No. We were in the middle of the road.
“Hey, hey! You’re not going to strip down right here, are you?”
She stared at me and stuck out her tongue.
She wrapped a towel around her neck and stuck her head out the window.
“Pervert.”
I’d been had.
She just meant washing her hair and face.
I opened the window and stuck my head out too.
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