MDBYF ~ 04

Chapter : 04

“Idiots. You’re making the young lady uncomfortable.”

At that very moment, the atmosphere among the soldiers changed with the arrival of another man. The smiles vanished from their faces, and they immediately straightened their posture.

“Colonel.”

“If my subordinates have behaved rudely, please allow me to apologize on their behalf, my lady.”

It was Josef Kirchner.

Seeing him up close, Clara found herself completely overwhelmed, as was often the case when confronted with an exceptionally handsome man. As an innocent young lady from Orbitz, there was no way she could remain unaffected by a man with features as finely sculpted as if by a carving knife, dressed in a decorated uniform adorned with medals.

“Josef Kirchner.”

“C-Clara Thüringen.”

At that, Josef smiled faintly. Even as he showed his interest, he never lost his politeness or impeccable manners.

That man whose name was always mentioned on the radio.

The war hero whose name was on everyone’s lips.

Soon, he bowed slightly and extended his hand toward her.

“If you would allow it, might you grant me the honor of a dance as well?”

Whenever she looked at him, an indescribable whirlwind swept through Clara’s heart. Could someone she had only just met feel as precious to her as a person she had known for years?

Throughout her dance with Josef, Clara felt a pleasant tickling in her chest, as though every color in the world had suddenly been reborn.

It was only much later that she realized what that feeling had been.

Her first love.

“Brenda vividly remembered the moment when foolish first love took hold of her. It felt as though she could do anything for him. Brenda, who had always lived as a shy and gentle young lady, was blinded by a love that burned like a torch. What kind of life would I have lived if I had never met him? Brenda often wondered.”

Foolish first love…

Clara could not stop a bitter smile from forming on her lips as she read the passage from the novel that had been recommended to her as one of the best-selling romance books of late.

The moment of first love was always bound to be foolish.

Because it was one’s first experience.

It was like a child who had only just learned to walk, stumbling because they were still unsteady on their feet.

It was certainly a well-written novel, but Clara returned the book to its original place on the shelf.

She had chosen reading as a way to escape reality, if only for a little while.

She had no desire to hear her own story reflected back at her in a novel as well.

Foolish first love.

Unfortunately, Clara’s first love was still ongoing.

She still loved Josef and believed that one day, he would turn his attention toward his one and only fiancée.

There was only one reason she could not give up on him.

To acknowledge that Josef would never love her for the rest of his life would be no different from declaring that she was willing to accept a cold and loveless marriage.

Clara was not a woman strong enough to accept such a reality without resistance.

And so, she could do nothing but cling to her futile hopes.

Choosing only books that seemed as cheerful and easy to read as possible, Clara made her way to the counter.

“Please put these on the Kirchner estate’s account.”

At the mention of the marquis’s household, the bookstore employee’s eyes widened.

Not wanting to attract unnecessary attention from the people around her, Clara merely smiled without saying anything.

Josef probably won’t object to me buying a few books.

“We’ll send the receipt later.”

“Thank you.”

Clara had just left the bookstore, hugging her newly purchased books to her chest, when a familiar, thunderous sound rang out above the heads of everyone walking through the streets.

An air-raid siren.

“Everyone, take shelter!”

As the large loudspeakers installed throughout the city began sounding the alarm, the crowd suddenly changed direction all at once.

This was a real attack.

Swept up among the people rushing toward the air-raid shelters, Clara planted her feet with all her strength, desperately trying not to be carried away by the crowd.

“W-Wait…”

“My lady!”

Someone was calling her from a distance.

It had to be the guard assigned to Clara by the marquis’s household.

Clara turned toward the sound, but with so many people packed tightly together, she could not find him properly.

Then, suddenly, someone seized her wrist and dragged her out of the crowd.

The grip was so strong that she could not possibly resist.

“Wait, who are—?!”

In an instant, Clara was pulled into a narrow alley.

There, between the dark walls of the surrounding buildings, she found herself facing four or five men.

Their eyes gleamed with malice.

The moment Clara saw them, instinctive fear rose to her throat, and she tried to flee back toward the street.

“Let go—!”

But she was no match for several grown men.

Before she could take more than a few steps, she was caught again. Someone pressed a handkerchief over her nose and mouth, and Clara struggled with every ounce of strength she had.

“Stay still. That’s it.”

They must have soaked the handkerchief in something.

The world began to spin before her eyes. Her consciousness grew hazy, and an overwhelming drowsiness washed over her.

I can’t collapse like this.

I have to return to the marquis’s residence.

If I’m late… Josef will be angry.

With that final faint worry, Clara lost consciousness.

A haggard-looking man was fleeing through the mountains.

He knew he was being pursued.

Being chased by someone was frightening enough, but of all people, one of the last individuals he ever wanted to encounter was on his trail.

My luck is absolutely rotten. Why did it have to be that bastard?

The man was a broker.

His job involved smuggling people across the border through illegal dealings with several criminal organizations, but recently, his relationship with one of those organizations had gone sour.

They had branded him a traitor and handed his personal information over to a contract killer.

Those filthy bastards!

Because he had accepted a little more money from the target, they were now trying to erase him from the face of the earth.

After running without looking back, the man eventually discovered an abandoned mountain cabin.

Desperate for somewhere to hide, he did not have time to think. He rushed inside and locked the door.

Huff… huff…

He stumbled several steps away from the door and struggled to catch his breath.

There’s no way he followed me all the way here…

The moment that complacent thought entered his mind—

BANG!

Something struck the door with tremendous force, as though someone were trying to break it down.

The man could only stare, nearly in tears, as the doorknob slowly began to bend and cave in.

BANG! BANG!

After several attempts, the door gave way with pitiful ease.

The man turned deathly pale as he came face-to-face with the contract killer who had come to end his life.

The Mad Dog of the Battlefield.

A beautiful blond man—someone who looked utterly unsuited to such a nickname—stood staring at him.

Dressed in tight-fitting black clothes fastened all the way to his neck, the man carried an aura of death so intense that it was impossible to ignore.

How many people working in the criminal underworld could possibly be unfamiliar with his name?

That was how infamous Mikhail Rosenheiler was.

A notorious specialist in killing.

The very contract killer who had never once failed to cut down his countless targets and traitors.

And now, it was this man’s turn.

“P-Please spare me! There’s been some kind of misunderstanding! I can explain everything—!”

Mikhail strode into the cabin and skillfully drew a dagger.

Before the broker could continue his pointless pleading, Mikhail lunged forward and plunged the blade into a vital spot.

The broker writhed and let out a groan filled with pain.

Soon, leaving a trail of blood behind him, he slowly collapsed beneath the wall opposite him.

After confirming his death, Mikhail Rosenheiler took a clean handkerchief from inside his clothing and carefully wiped the blood from his face and neck.

Killing was his profession, but perhaps because of that, he placed great importance on cleanliness.

Ironically, the thing he hated most was having his own body stained with someone else’s blood.

Once the job was finished, he collected the necessary evidence and left the body behind in the mountain cabin.

If the client needed the corpse, they would send someone separately to retrieve it.

By the time Mikhail returned to his temporary lodging in a small town, evening had fallen and darkness had settled over the streets.

He unlocked the door and entered.

On the table, he found an envelope waiting for him.

Under the pale glow of the light, he sliced the envelope open with his knife and pulled out its contents.

As expected, it was another assignment from his client.

“Do not kill the target. Bring her back unharmed.”

Mikhail placed the card containing the client’s instructions on the table and unfolded the sheet containing the target’s personal information.

Beside a photograph of a woman, a name had been handwritten.

“Clara Thüringen.”

Mikhail read her name aloud.

“Clara. Clara Thüringen.”

The moment his eyes fell upon the words aristocratic woman, Mikhail frowned.

Not exactly my specialty.

But the moment he continued reading the line written directly beneath it, he could not help letting out a short laugh.