"We are in crisis."
"We are in crisis."
The colonel closed his eyes, silently recalling the events of eighteen years ago.
That cheering. That ecstasy.
His youth, brimming with vigor, lost in a crowd of tens of thousands, gazing up in reverence at the Leader.
The brightest day of his life.
He could still recite the Leader's speech from that day word for word.
"The nation was divided, and the country was crumbling. But our great era is only just beginning. Schupaven has now opened its eyes.
I know it. My comrades, my people! I know that your time of anguish will continue. The revolution you longed for did not come from the royals, nor from the republicans.
But now, it will be different.
Struggle! Triumph!
One nation, one country, one dream!
Just as parched earth yearns for rain and wind, Schupaven desires only one thing. Revolution! A true revolution is coming.
People of Schupaven, awaken!"
Boom boom! Pa-ba-bam!
A thunderous symphony roared.
Krüger on stage spread his arms wide. The cheers from the supporting cast filled the theater.
The hushed audience swallowed tears of overwhelming emotion.
As the music faded, Krüger stepped down from the podium and shouted toward the seats.
"Schupaven will become one."
"Under God's will."
The colonel whispered.
"Under my will."
The actor declared clearly.
The curtain fell, and the orchestra began playing a lively ending theme.
Moments later, the curtain rose again, and the actors came out bowing with broad smiles.
"Waaaaah!"
"Oh my!"
The audience rose to their feet, applauding wildly.
But the colonel, seated in the very back row center, did not stand.
He gripped the armrest, trembling violently. His face flushed red then pale.
His adjutant beside him glanced nervously.
"Colonel...?"
Bang!
Crash!
The moment the adjutant spoke, the enraged colonel's fist shattered the seat in front of him.
"Whoa!"
The bald man in that seat tumbled backward onto the floor, and the commotion made the entire audience turn around.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"Huh? What was that?"
From the catwalk above the stage, I peered down at the sudden uproar in the audience.
Thud!
The lighting technician astutely swung a spotlight toward the troublemaker.
A man in a black uniform, his face rigid.
"Gasp!"
The bald guy, about to snap back, froze in terror and fell on his ass again.
An Ossel colonel.
The kind of figure who instilled fear just passing on the street, and now he was fuming, glaring at the stage with heaving breaths. The air around him froze solid.
"O-Ossel!"
"Long live the great Leader!"
The panicked audience awkwardly saluted with fists to chests, but the colonel ignored them.
His face beet red, breathing ragged, he marched to the front amid the stares.
"Where's the playwright?! You reactionary scum!!!"
Unable to contain his rage, he trembled and wildly brandished a pistol from his coat.
Of course, the audience, deeply moved by the play, couldn't comprehend his fury. They simply froze in instinctive terror of the special police.
The adjutant quickly scanned the playbill.
Director — Emil Hoffmann
Script — Emil Hoffmann
Overall Supervisor — Emil Hoffmann
He whispered something to the colonel, then spoke low.
"Emil Hoffmann. Come out."
His heavy voice, though not loud, filled the theater. Hoffmann in the front row shot up and saluted.
"An honor, Colonel!"
His hefty belly jiggled as he tried not to shake.
"You're the scriptwriter?! Huh?!"
The furious colonel swung his pistol and bellowed.
"How dare you insult the Leader! The man who bears the nation's weight under God's will! You made him out to be some power-hungry monster! You thought I wouldn't notice?! You vile heretic reactionary!!!"
Not even the adjutant looked sympathetic.
But I, watching the chaos from the shadows, understood perfectly.
That's why I'd deliberately changed the final line.
The Leader Krüger's inauguration speech was infamous.
Rebroadcast endlessly on radio as a masterpiece, his speech collections sold like hotcakes.
And the line he supposedly said after stepping down was equally famous.
'Schupaven will become one. Under God's will.'
In Revolution, Krüger wrote that his mother was a devout believer.
Probably her influence.
Whether he was devout or not, he'd clearly mastered using 'religion' on his path to power.
Religion and nationalism.
The Leader's two swords.
Realizing that from reading Revolution, I'd altered the play's closing line.
'Schupaven will become one. Under my will.'
Twisting the Leader's world-famous words was treason enough on its own.
I figured anyone catching the mocking nuance would be outraged.
'I meant to frame Hoffmann, but I didn't expect Ossel to show. And a colonel at that.'
Shocked at first, but now it felt like a stroke of luck.
Hoffmann was the nominal head. Lucas Redan wasn't listed anywhere in reports or the playbill.
Hoffmann had hoarded even that minor credit, despite the hassle of production yielding no real achievements. Probably to hide his own slacking too.
A real sleazy boss move, but now karma was calling.
Even if Hoffmann testified 'I knew nothing, Lucas Redan did it all,' it wouldn't matter.
Only he and I knew the script was entirely mine, and he'd shown up to rehearsals meddling enough to make any denial unconvincing.
All or nothing.
I'd probably get dragged in again. Might even die.
But Hoffmann would fall for sure.
In the aisle, the colonel was still raging.
"Round them all up! Every last one involved in this show!"
A twisted smile crept across my face.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"I told you not to let me see your face again."
I met the gaze of the sharp-featured uniformed youth weakly.
The Ossel captain who'd enjoyed my antics just yesterday.
"This wasn't my doing. Neither last time nor this."
"Doesn't matter."
The Ossel captain donned white gloves, wetted them, and slapped me hard.
"Guh!"
A stifled scream escaped me.
My left cheek burned like it might fall off, my head ringing, but he swung with the other hand.
"Urk! I-I'm sorry!"
Maybe because of the colonel's fury, the violence was dialed up. I groveled immediately.
"What did you do wrong? No, do you even know what you did?"
As expected, the Ossel captain smirked oddly.
Ptoo!
I spat bloody saliva and yelled hastily.
"I heard Assistant Clerk Hoffmann insulted the Leader!"
"And you had no idea?"
I kept the scared look, but pitched my voice to clearly convey intent.
"I-I handled the grunt work, but I just followed his orders. He reviewed and revised the script multiple times, and above all..."
I trailed off hesitantly.
"Above all, what?"
He raised his hand. I shuddered violently, twisting away.
"Eek! I'll-I'll tell you! Before rehearsal, Assistant Clerk Hoffmann ordered me to change the final line!"
"Change it how?"
"From 'God's will' to 'my will'."
The Ossel captain pondered briefly.
"Didn't notice anything off?"
"Sorry! But I've always followed his orders. He had final say. Like with that elf-mixed actress last time..."
I cut off mid-sentence with a shocked expression.
His eyes flashed.
"Last time?"
"I didn't know agencies well, so he recommended some. I called the one he said had the best rep, and she just happened to be..."
It was true.
When Lucas submitted the casting report, he'd meddled and suggested agencies.
Probably no ill intent.
"Hmm."
The smirking Ossel captain thought long, then resumed swinging.
Slap!
Thud! Crack!
The concrete room echoed with beatings for a while.
'Fuck this!'
I endured the onslaught, swallowing a near-Korean curse.
It hurt like hell, but his indifferent strikes lacked real malice, making it bearable.
"Sorry about that."
He said, twisting his thin lips. The one-sided smirk oozed cruelty.
After the ordeal, reward came.
"Gah! I know nothing! I didn't do it!"
Hooded and guided out by the Ossel captain, a horrific scream erupted immediately.
"Kaaaaagh!"
Definitely Hoffmann.
"As I said, what I did...! I didn't know! My subordinates must've, urk, changed it!"
"Does that even make sense?! Weren't you the overall supervisor?!"
"But everything was that Clerk Redan, aaagh!"
"Shut up! You expect us to believe you didn't notice the script changed right before the show? Vile lie! Even if true, you'd still be guilty of negligence!"
"P-Please! Haaagh!"
Splash! Bang!
I didn't know the tool, but Hoffmann's agonized cries were utterly wretched.
The trembling Ossel captain halted my hooded march.
"Anything you want to say to him?"
He asked leisurely.
"Me? T-To Assistant Clerk?"
"Don't you wonder how his face changes seeing you?"
I realized.
This was the Ossel captain's other game.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Against my will, I sat face-to-face with Hoffmann.
Just us two in the room.
Unlike the two cramped cells I'd endured, this was spacious, with a bathtub in the corner.
'Waterboarding...'
My face soured instinctively.
Hoffmann was a mess.
His usually slicked-back hair was disheveled, his fat body in ragged pants covered in bruises.
A surge of inexplicable rage and irritation welled up. I wanted to laugh maniacally.
The cruel thrill of cornering the man who'd screwed me over.
The fact that I felt it was terrifying, yet I didn't want to deny it.
As I stared blankly, Hoffmann's face twisted further.
"I know."
He rasped hoarsely.
"You did it, right? Right? Just say it. Admit you did it, just once."
"..."
"Please, I'm begging. Say it was a joke! Then we'll both be fine. We can both get out alive! L-Look at my hands."
He held them up.
Half-torn nails.
The self-inflicted palm wounds.
Before the show, they'd seemed healed from treatment, but now they were ripped open, oozing blood.
"If this goes on, I'll die. When I meet the Lord, who'll I name as my killer? You. Not the executioner or Ossel—you. You okay with that?"
In that moment, all emotion vanished.
Seeing this sinner so sure he'd pass heaven's gates.
I whispered with a crooked smile.
"You said you'd die for the Leader. Isn't this your chance? Why not rejoice?"
Hoffmann's face contorted hideously.
"Lucas you bastaaaaard!"
The trapped man howled