Vierna dropped the crushed peanut-butter biscuit into the wine. Her hand trembled at the act. She looked to Lina, whose face remained firm and unwavering. There was no accusation in her eyes, no judgment—only understanding of what Vierna was about to do.
She glanced around the room. When they had first come in, it had been packed, but now it was almost empty. Only a dim candle and the moonlight from the window remained. She remembered a few patrons entering earlier, only to leave immediately after noticing them. The ones who had been eating before had hurried through their meals and left just as quickly, as if afraid of catching some disease. The waiters were gone too, perhaps sharing the same disdain for people from tax office.
And yet, that quiet hostility worked in her favor.
“Henry.”
“Mmh? …What.” His head sagged against his arm.
“You’re thirsty, aren’t you?” Lina whispered.
He groaned. “No more… gonna pass out…”
Vierna’s voice caught. “Sylia said she’d… kiss you if you drank one more.”
Lina shot Vierna a flat look, clearly unimpressed by the lie.
“It’s obvious he likes her,” Vierna whispered back.
Henry’s eyes cracked open. He muttered bitterly, “Sylia… turned me down… always…”
“Because she says you can’t keep up with her,” Lina leaned in, her tone sly but tinged with regret. She slid the glass to his hand. “One more glass—prove her wrong.”
Henry blinked, then gave a sloppy grin. “Tch… fine… cheers.”
He drank.
Vierna’s chest locked tight. She prayed the reaction would wait until morning, hoped that it would only be enough to keep him home—nothing worse.
For the mission. For Lina. Don’t hesitate.
Even if it meant Henry losing his job, even if it meant betraying those who had welcomed them, Vierna would carry the shame.
When it was done, she and Lina heaved Sylia upright. During their conversation, Sylia had mentioned that her home wasn’t far, so with no other option left, they decided to ask the tavern owner. They left the room and went toward the counter.
He let out a sharp, exhausted sigh—clearly, this wasn’t the first time someone had drunk themselves stupid under his roof. Without a word, he waved them toward the door and followed behind.
The tavern door creaked open as they stumbled out into the cool night air. The world outside was drenched in silence, the cobblestones slick with rain and the glow of distant lanterns trembling on puddles that mirrored the fog-draped rooftops. The air smelled of wet earth and smoke, the chill seeping through their clothes until every breath came out in faint clouds.
Behind them, the tavern owner stood with his arms crossed, his face carved in irritation.
“Her place’s that way,” he said sharply, pointing down the street. “Two houses past that building. Don’t drag her back here again.”
“Thank you, Herr,” Lina replied, but the man had already turned and disappeared back inside, the door shutting behind him with a dull thud.
The three of them moved through the near-empty street, save for a distant dog barking somewhere beyond the rows of dark houses. The faint whistle of the wind followed them, carrying the soft rustle of old shutters and creaking signs. The rhythmic clack of their boots echoed too loudly against the stones, and each sound seemed to vanish into the cold mist that wrapped the town like a shroud.
“Heyy… where are we… hic?” Sylia mumbled, half-awake.
“Heading home,” Vierna said softly. “You’re dead drunk.”
“I am… not… drunk!” Sylia laughed, then promptly snored back into slumber. Despite her petite frame, the sound was shockingly loud.
“I’m sorry, Syl,” Lina whispered, shifting her weight. “I hope your next job is kinder than this one.”
“What’s… that?” Sylia’s eyes cracked open.
“Nothing,” Vierna murmured, patting her head until she drifted off again.
“I… hope Robert isn’t waiting… he worries when…” Her words trailed into another snore.
They carried her through the sleeping streets until they reached a narrow house, its frame patched with crooked boards and rusty nails. Inside, the air was damp; dust gathered in corners, shelves half-wiped, laundry stacked but left unfolded. Sylia and her brother had clearly fought to keep the place in order, but exhaustion had left its mark.
A thud echoed from the stairs, and a figure appeared. A black-haired boy, no older than eight, blinked up at them. His face was still round with youth, yet shadows clung beneath his eyes. His skin was unnaturally pale, his lips cracked and dry, as though thirst were his constant companion.
“Welcome home… sis?” the boy asked, voice soft but wary.
“Good night—or should I say morning?” Vierna offered gently. “My name’s Crysta, and this is Aline. We’re new at the tax office. Sylia came to our welcome party and… had a bit too much to drink.”
Robert’s eyes flicked to his sister, limp and slurring in their arms.
“Sis… who are they? You told me not to bring strangers home.”
Lina nudged Sylia to rouse her up. “Ohhh… hey, Robert… hic… they’re not strangers. They’re my best… friends…” She laughed weakly, words dissolving as she sagged again. “I’m just a little tipsy… show them our parents’ roo—” She collapsed back into sleep.
Robert’s face was still tense, unsure either his sister saying the truth or just under influence of the alcohol.
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“I’m sorry,” Vierna said quickly, her voice calm and steady. “Today was Sylia’s last day before heading to Rolbart Village. She let herself go for once. We celebrated with Frau Mirelle and Herr Henry.”
At the names, Robert’s posture eased. It seemed he recognized them. The fact that Vierna and Lina knew them too—and mentioned Rolbart—confirmed they really were his sister’s coworkers.
“Sorry, can’t be too cautious, right?” he said, glancing at his drunken sister. “Sis always does this before she has to go to Rolbart,” Robert added with a weary sigh—not a hostile one, just tired, the kind that comes from understanding rather than anger. “Hey, sis—we’re out of food. You said you’d go with me to the market later?”
“Huh? …too tired…” Sylia mumbled.
“Come on, sis. You’re supposed to be the adult around here.” Robert sighed again, then looked back at the girls. Vierna just smiled. Despite his protest, there was a lingering warmth in it—the kind only family could share. It ached in her chest to see something so pure, knowing she was about to place another burden on a family already weighed down. “Oh yeah, she said to take you to our parents’ room. Are you staying over?” Robert continued.
“Yeah. Sorry for imposing,” Lina said.
“Well, you brought my troublesome sister home. It’s the least we can do.” He smiled faintly. “The room is upstairs. But before that, can you help me carry her? I can’t lift her alone.”
“Of course.” Vierna gave him a thumbs-up. “Lead the way.”
They hauled Sylia to her room. It was messy—clothes and uniforms scattered across the floor, the mattress crooked, propped on a book. They laid her down.
“Hey, Robert,” Vierna said, “you mentioned the market earlier?”
“Yeah. We’re almost out of food. I wanted to cook something for her before she leaves.”
Vierna’s chest tightened. An ordinary boy, clinging to an ordinary morning. And she was the shadow that would poison it.
“You can cook?” she asked.
“Of course. Sis is hopeless at it. Someone has to cook, or we’d starve.” He said it matter-of-factly, eyes on his sister as she snored, undisturbed by anything.
“I can take you,” Vierna offered. “Aline can stay here and watch over Sylia.”
“Thanks, but… I don’t want to trouble you. I can manage.”
“It’s no trouble. Think of it as repaying Sylia’s kindness. Besides, if you go alone, it’ll take longer. If we’re late, Sylia will have to leave without a meal.”
Robert hesitated, looking away as he thought. Then he nodded. “Okay… if you don’t mind, then I’ll go with you. Your room’s next door. I’ll wake you when it’s time.”
“Thanks.” Lina yawned. “Just wake Crysta, alright? I’ll get up before office hours.”
Robert tilted his head, studying her. “I see why Sis likes you. You’re kind of the same—always delaying everything until the last moment.”
Lina only smiled sheepishly at the remark.
He sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Alright, I’d better sleep too. See you later.”
The girls exhaled in unison, relief washing over them. After a day spent wrapped in lies, the chance to finally stop drained the last of their adrenaline. They slumped onto the bed. Lina drifted into sleep almost instantly, but Vierna lay awake, staring into the dark. Even with Lina beside her, the weight of what she’d done refused to let go.
She just stared at the wall in front of her, as if something were hidden there. When she closed her eyes, she was transported to a familiar place—green scenery with empty picture frames hanging among the clouds. Moony had invited her into her domain.
As she looked closer, some of the grass had turned brown—decaying, neglected. The clouds were no longer the soft blue they once were, but an ashen gray, as if the day’s deeds were slowly consuming her conscience. Cracks had begun to spread across the empty picture frames.
Vierna quickened her steps. Something was wrong with Moony—so wrong that she had summoned her here.
She found Moony at the edge of the cliff, as usual, staring up at Lina’s picture in the sky. She seemed unbothered by the decay spreading through her surroundings. Behind her hung half-finished portraits, their faces slashed through with a dark vermilion dye. Vierna recognized the shapes—it was Mirelle, Henry, and Sylia.
Vierna lowered herself to sit beside Moony. She didn’t speak; she simply stared at the sky where Lina’s picture lingered above. Only then did she notice what lay behind it—faded images of Halwen, Albrecht, and Leopold. All the people she held dear.
“Hey…” Moony finally spoke, her voice carrying the weight of resignation, too heavy for her to bear.
“Hey… everything all right?” Vierna asked.
“Why do we need to hurt these people?” Moony whispered. “Why do we keep doing this?”
“You know why, Moony… we have to,” Vierna said.
“I don’t want to, Vierna… I really don’t.”
“Me too.” Vierna’s voice was steady, but her sincerity cut deep. She knew what she was doing was wrong—her conscience and spirit rebelled against it—but duty still demanded she carry on.
“Vierna, let’s run. Together with Lina. We’ll find someplace far from the war… open a winery, like Father wanted. Do you remember?”
As Moony spoke, the scars across her body began to weep, as if she were being whipped with barbed wire.
“Yes… we could start small,” Vierna murmured. “Work with Lina, save money. Bit by bit, we’d get there.”
“Yeah, yeah!” Moony’s tone grew brighter. “We’ll cut off the caramelized meat, eat gruel or whatever—as long as we have Lina, we can do it, right?”
“Yes. Let’s bail on this mission, okay?”
“Haha… glad you agree. Then we’ll start planning. We’ll need to read books, learn what to do.”
“I agree. I saw a bookstore in Haustwitch—it looked like it had a good collection.”
Their consciousness and spirit wandered into dreams of another life, one free of chains. They joked about what Halwen would look like without his lab coat—just some village uncle instead of a Reich scholar. Their laughter faded, leaving silence in its wake.
“If only we could do that,” Vierna said.
“We could! Why not? You already agreed with me.”
“The war would find us no matter where we go,” Vierna said, hugging her knees. “Besides, the Arkmarschall would track us—maybe even execute us for treason—if we actually did that.”
Moony didn’t answer. She just hugged her knees, like Vierna. She knew it was the truth. The Reich, the Imperium, the Cult—none would ever allow them a life of peace if they ran. Out there, as deserters, two Faintborns would be exposed, and no one would come to help.
They looked back at the sky, letting the silence stretch. Clouds drifted across the wounded blue; cracked picture frames made the scene lonelier than it already felt.
“Hey, Vierna.”
“Yes?”
“We still believe in the Facility, right? They really are curing us?”
“We do,” Vierna said without hesitation.
“But they make us hurt innocents… and the Arkmarschall said this is training. Does that mean it’ll be worse during Ewige Schlange?”
“It is,” Vierna replied, though her voice no longer carried the same certainty. “Innocents will get hurt no matter what we do. I’m not saying we’re right—but at least this serves a purpose. To end the war.”
“What do you mean?”
“If we succeed here, and during Ewige Schlange, I’m sure the tide of battle will change. The Reich will be one step closer to victory—one step closer to ending this war.”
Her words were as much to herself as to Moony—a promise meant to bind conscience and spirit together, to bear whatever came next.
“Moony…”
“Yes, Vierna?”
“It will only get worse from here. This mission is just training—I don’t know what the future holds. But I’m certain even more innocents will get hurt.”
“I only have one request, Vierna.”
“What is it?”
Moony looked straight at her. The world dimmed, everything swallowed in an endless umbra until only the two of them remained. “If the Reich—or even Arkmarschall Leopold—ever order us to harm or betray Lina, we choose Lina. No compromise.”
“Yes. Of course.”
“Promise me!” Moony shouted. The ground quaked beneath them, a terrible force answering her demand. She was deadly serious, and Vierna felt the line being drawn—ally or enemy, even though they were the same being, spirit and consciousness.
“I promise!” Vierna said firmly. “You, me, and Lina. Forever. Even against the Reich. Even against the Arkmarschall himself.”
“So please,” Vierna said, cupping Moony’s small head. “Don’t break on me, okay? I need you. Lina needs you.”
Moony took her hand. For a moment she simply held it, then gently set it aside and lifted her eyes to the sky. The cracks in the frames began to mend, as if their fragile pact had eased something inside that wounded place.
Moony smiled after that. The scenery brightened, rain falling soft and steady.
“I’m sorry I’ve been such an annoying spirit,” Moony whispered.
“And I’m sorry I’ve been such a lousy consciousness,” Vierna replied.
They embraced, bound at last—not as halves, but as accomplices, falling together toward the abyss that awaited them both.
Should she just run away? even knowing the risk?
