Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Grimmer was beginning to feel better. He had gone back to Prague after his argument with Esther, simply to calm down, in an environment that was not hostile to him per se. Loaded with unpleasant memories, of course, but it was his way of telling himself that he could probably get over this bad patch as he had done before. He had come close to death on more than one occasion, and the situation he was in seemed far less dramatic than being tortured or having to undergo emergency surgery to remove a bullet that had lodged in an artery.

Yet the pain was there, where it shouldn't be. Grimmer didn't think he had lied to Esther, on the contrary, he had said exactly what he thought, but it was surely the way he had expressed himself that had been clumsy. He could almost imagine how she had perceived the information. He shouldn't have said it like that. She didn't disgust him, but from the way he'd phrased it, she'd probably think that was what he'd meant.

He didn't hear from her, and didn't try to reach to her either - thinking that Esther's reaction on the spot would be the worst thing to endure, no doubt - until he returned to Germany, and again the first person he saw was Zahra, who looked at him in dismay. She began by asking him where he had been all this time, to which Grimmer naturally replied that he had left the country for a little while to get his bearings, before concern took over and he immediately asked if anything had happened while he was away.

Zahra had simply shrugged her shoulders and informed the man that Bruno often went to see Esther, and that he hadn't noticed anything unusual.

But Grimmer was not naive enough to believe Bruno's story, for the man had prompted Esther to go to the green-roofed house for the second time. It was true that Esther had not been injured on her return, but the anxiety was still there.

So he made his way to Esther's house, except that he bumped into Katerina on the way. He clearly thought he would never see her again, but thought that perhaps it was for the best. She seemed genuinely happy to cross his path, and didn't fail to notice that he looked different from what she remembered. She had also told him that she couldn't explain exactly what had changed in him, but that she could see he was doing better, and that that was fine, and that she hoped with all her heart that it would continue that way.

"I don't know what's going on with you, but in any case, it's for the better! I find you much more radiant!"

Katerina had touched his arm, and Grimmer hadn't really felt anything. He suspected he would have no reaction. Katerina was an objectively beautiful woman, but he felt nothing towards her as a person. She was a nice person, and he wished her all the happiness in the world, but he didn't want her in his life, not in that way, not in that place that had already been taken. He'd seen it didn't work the first time.

And no one could rekindle the warmth in the hollow of his chest like Esther could.

This warmth remained extinguished when she wasn't there, and had become almost icy in her prolonged absence. He missed her, it seemed, and every square centimetre of his skin that came into contact with Katerina's hand vibrated with disgust, wanting instead the touch of a certain person he wanted to see, again. Then he noticed that he felt himself being watched, a little too insistently, with a critical attention that he could only attribute to Esther. But she couldn't be there, could she? She'd be locked up at home, no doubt, either working out a plan to get to... the town whose name yhe couldn't bring himself to pronounce, or rethinking her guilt and the pain that went with it.

He took advantage of the fact that Katerina was also distracted to look around. And there was nobody there. Perhaps he had simply hallucinated. He missed Esther very much, after all. He couldn't wait to see her again so they could get their story straight.

"Besides, Frank is a wonderful man, you know." Katerina continued. "I feel happy with him."

"I'm delighted for you." Grimmer simply replied with a small smile.

"And what about you? Have you finally found someone who's right for you?"

"Yes... sort of."

Katerina's face lit up. "Oh, but that's a very nice smile I see there! Tell me all about it!"

"I don't have much to say..." Grimmer admitted, running a hand through his hair. "It's just... I like her a lot."

"And that's all that matters! Where do you two stand?" Katerina asked, sounding genuinely involved in the conversation, happy at the thought that her ex-husband was doing better.

"We're during the early stages, y'know..." Grimmer let out a small laugh. "We had a bit of a row, so I need to go and apologise."

"Oh my!" Katerina nodded sharply. "I won't keep you any longer then! Go and see her. It was nice to see you again, we should call one of these days."

"With pleasure." Grimmer waved his hand. "Take care."

Then it was Nathaniel that Grimmer came across, the young man holding a pharmacy bag as he passed in the street. Nathaniel stopped when he recognised him, greeting him warmly - but not with a hug, Grimmer noticed.

"I'm a bit ill." Nathaniel then replied, pointing to the medicine bag. "And it's not just a little cough, so I'll say hello from afar. We haven't seen you in a while, by the way, where have you been?"

"In... In the Czech Republic."

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. "Do you have family there?"

"No, I just went there..." Grimmer simply shrugged. "Prague's a nice town. You should go there sometime."

"I'll keep that in mind. Maybe when Markus is older, because it might be complicated right now." Nathaniel sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"And Markus is okay?"

"No more colic, at least. He's calmer, even if he's still not sleeping through the night. But at least we don't feel like parents who can't look after our child because he cries all the time. He's at the paediatrician's right now. Mandatory vaccinations and all that."

Grimmer couldn't add anything to that. Friedrich was a relatively calm boy, who had never had colic, so Grimmer didn't necessarily know how to advise him on this point.

"And how are you?" he finally asked.

"I've seen better days, but worse, too." Nathaniel grinned. "Must be a touch of the flu. At least, that's what Esther told me."

There was silence. Grimmer said nothing, but the look on his face must have been expressive enough to make Nathaniel laugh, and he shook his head.

"She's fine too. She came by the house this morning to visit us." Nathaniel smiled at him, "She's the one who told me it might be better if I went to the doctor. She also forbade me to kiss the boy, and that doesn't suit me too well."

Grimmer let out a small smile. Yes, that sounded like the sort of thing she'd say.

"We had a good talk, she and I. So now I think she's doing better." Nathaniel had a small, satisfied, dreamy look on his face. "Much better, even, if I may brag a little."

At these words, Grimmer's expression turned a bit darker. He was very glad to hear that Esther was well, but he couldn't help remarking to himself that he was almost disappointed that she was feeling better even though they'd been arguing. As if, deep down, she was almost waiting until she wasn't with him any more to...

"I don't think she's home, though, if you're looking for her." Nathaniel indicated with a little pout, clutching his mobile phone as it began to ring. A call from his wife, no doubt. "Maman's already there, and she hasn't seen her, so..."

"Right. Thanks, Nathaniel. And get well soon."

"I'll try not to make it worse." Nathaniel let out a laugh, bringing the phone up to his ear. "See you, Grimmer! Hello, darling?"

So Grimmer made his way to Esther's building, where he bumped into Zahra again, this time accompanied by Pablo in the courtyard below. Decidedly...

He stopped to greet them too, as it would be rather impolite to ignore them. The conversation was rather simple, but also strangely tense. Zahra was rather silent and seemed tense. She finally admitted to Grimmer that she was worried about Bruno, whom she hadn't seen since the morning, since he'd been on a few errands.

"I've decided to keep Pablo for the day, because it's always Bruno lately, so it's not fair..." Zahra muttered, before fidgeting with her fingers. Grimmer wanted to point out that, when he'd seen her earlier, she hadn't been with her eldest brother, but held back, deciding in the end that perhaps he had better things to worry about at the moment. "But I'm starting to wonder... He left his phone at home, so..." Zahra added, leaving her sentence hanging in the air.

"It happens." Grimmer reassured her with a smile. "Mobile phones are relatively new, after all."

"Yes, but still..." Zahra bit her lip. "That's odd, it's never happened to him."

Grimmer didn't want to show his concern, but it was beginning, slowly but surely, to manifest itself in him. A few scenarios were beginning to form, and he wasn't enjoying them at all. He continued to reassure Zahra as much as he could before rushing into the building to visit Esther's flat and, as expected, Denise was sitting on the sofa, pensive.

"Ah. Hello, Grimmer." greeted the old woman as she saw him enter. She gave him a faint smile, but said nothing more.

"Hello, Denise." Grimmer replied, taking off his shoes. "Are you well?"

"I've seen better days." Denise sighed, adjusting herself on the sofa as Grimmer took a seat next to her, still leaving a respectful distance. "Have you seen Esther?"

"No..." Grimmer conceded, before turning his eyes to his interlocutor. "Should I?"

"Not at all, it was only a question." Denise looked down at her hands in her lap. "Would you have had her on the phone?"

"No. Not that, either." Grimmer shook his head, and concern flared again.

He looked down at what Denise was handing him, namely... Esther's mobile phone. Well, that was getting to be a lot. It didn't shock him that Bruno had forgotten his phone. He didn't know the man that well anyway, so the fact that he'd forgotten didn't shake him. But for Esther to forget seemed even rarer. And that they should both forget at the same time was suspicious.

But Grimmer didn't let anything show on his face, mainly because he didn't want to panic Esther's mother, who seemed anxious enough as it was. Denise was staring at the screen, looking as if she wanted to say something, words that couldn't find their way into her mouth. Perhaps if she said them, they would ring true to her. Perhaps expressing her concern for her daughter was something far too new for her.

Grimmer remained silent. Obviously, he was itching for her to talk, especially if she had any information about why Esther had potentially, just potentially, forgotten her phone, or if she had deliberately left it here so that no one could trace her. He personally leaned more towards the hypothesis that Esther had gone to the last place Alice had been seen. He hoped not. He hoped she wasn't that stupid. Or no, not stupid. Stupid was not the word.

After all, he'd suspected it, he'd always known about it, he'd known about Lunge's plan to use Esther to make sure Alice was dead, and Grimmer had kept quiet about it. More or less. Actually, yes, he had pointed it out, just before everything in him collapsed and he lost his ability to be... pleasant in his words. Had he been wrong to tell the truth? Certainly not. She needed to be told things as they were. But was he right to address her in this way? Was he right to go so far, to be so violent, as to provoke an instinctive reaction in her that saw him as a danger?

Certainly not.

"I had her on the phone this very morning." Denise announced, snapping Grimmer out of his thoughts. "So I guess... I guess she called me from a payphone. She told me she had a lot of chores to do, and that it would probably take her all day."

Grimmer frowned slightly. "What kind of chores?"

"Getting rid of rubbish, among other things. She put a lot of emphasis on that. At least, that's what she said. I didn't ask her any more questions, but... It was a strange feeling. I don't know how to explain it to you, but even on the phone I felt it."

Grimmer felt his stomach weigh as heavy as lead. No, Esther was fine, Esther had no reason to go there, Esther... Esther wasn't that naive, was she? Wasn't she seeing through Lunge's game?

Or maybe she just didn't care any more. What did she have to lose? She had proved more than once that her own life was worthless to her. She had shown that she hated Alice so much that she was prepared to go toe-to-toe if it meant finally getting rid of her. So going into a town, armed, to look for someone she wasn't sure was dead, seemed like a small matter, when he considered it.

"I had the very bad feeling that I was talking to my daughter for the last time."

Getting rid of rubbish.

That's what Esther had said as Bruno stood just outside the phone box door, waiting for her to join Lunge at the rendezvous point. Bruno was tense and confused. A few days earlier, Esther had seemed determined to get on with her life, regardless of Alice's Doctrine and teachings. And now...

He hadn't dared ask her what had happened, what had prompted this change of heart, but he had a clear idea. After all, if it Nathaniel wasn't the problem, then it certainly was Grimmer, which still surprised him, because he had assumed that they were both happy now. He couldn't even feel happy when it came to their argument. Not only would that be terribly selfish of him, but Esther looked... elsewhere. She barely replied to Lunge when he greeted her, and fell asleep almost immediately when she got into the car.

"Did she say anything to you?" Bruno asked the ex-inspector who was driving, barely looking at him, his gaze instead directed at Esther through the rear-view mirror.

"No, she didn't say anything in particular." Lunge replied calmly, his eyes straight on the road. "But I don't think it takes a rocket scientist to know that something did happen. Did she say anything to you?"

"No, nothing at all." Bruno sighed, crossing his arms. "Ruhenheim, that's six hours from here, isn't it? In Bavaria?"

"That's right. I think we can let her sleep for a while. On the other hand, we'll have to make several stopovers. For petrol, and necessities, mainly. Do you have the map with you?"

"Yes..." Bruno's voice was small, faint as he lowered his eyes to the mapped route. Lips pressed together, he glanced at Esther, who had her temple resting against the glass, and took a deep breath. "Do you think she's really dead? Alice, I mean."

Lunge answered nothing as the car finally entered the motorway.

"Because it's weird, isn't it?" Bruno continued, frowning. "Her death in itself is strange, but what's even weirder is your motivation for coming to help us. Technically, you have no reason to want to come. This is none of your business. Unless you've taken it to heart over the months. Or you know something we don't."

Lunge imperceptibly turned his eyes towards Bruno, before redirecting them towards the road, not even deigning to give him an answer. Bruno then began to grow impatient.

"I think I know what you want, and it's not going to happen. You won't be able to use Esther to get rid of Alice and then throw her in jail. Because I'll be the one taking care of Alice and getting arrested."

"Have you thought about what Esther would think of that?" Lunge finally asked.

"It's not a question of what she thinks or what she wants. It's a question of common sense, and what's the right thing to do." Bruno retorted.

"The right thing to do..." Lunge repeated, a little pensively. "On what pretext? You know as well as I do that good and evil are not defined by a few rules laid down one day and put in a code of laws. So from that to classifying them until you find a ‘right’ one..."

"Don't start with that, you know exactly what I mean. If Esther kills Alice, it would be like... letting her sink permanently, and... I don't want that."

"You'd be prepared to do that for her?" Lunge interrupted, sounding almost astonished.

"Yes. It must be a concept you're not very familiar with. Although I've always thought that policemen must have a sense of sacrifice to want to serve the law above and beyond their own interests..." Bruno turned away to look out of the car window, watching the scenery speed by. "But when you love someone..."

Silence. Lunge couldn't say anything. Had he ever really loved? He doubted it himself.

"I tried looking you up. Of course I would. It would have been stupid not to and follow your plan blindly. And then, now that it's been confirmed that Tenma and Zahra are dating... Well, Tenma may laugh about it now, but it must have been bloody hard to have you on his arse all those years." Bruno added.

"And what does that tell you?"

"That you'll do anything to get what you want, even if I don't know what it is yet." Bruno squinted. "But what's certain is that it's not Esther's interests that you have in mind."

Lunge stopped midway at a rest stop, so that they could all recover after three hours spent in the confined space of the car, among other things. Bruno had gone to the toilet while Esther did a few laps on foot to stretch her legs, which she had hardly felt when she woke up, leaning on the cane she had finally decided to take with her. She still said few words, simply thanking Lunge when he insisted on opening the door for her.

Lunge watched her for a moment, not quite understanding the weight in his throat when he saw her so unhappy. In this case, he didn't like her to look sad. He preferred to see the teasing look on her face when she made remarks or told him to relax a bit. Now she was the one with her nerves on edge, her fists clenched as she looked around suspiciously, as if she had something to hide, or rather was suspicious of everything.

Lunge sighed through his nose and headed for the nearest phone box, dialling a number he had memorised a short while ago. Previously, the number had been saved on his mobile phone - which, he had to admit, he didn't always understand - but he must have remembered it because he'd left the device at home. He had told himself that he would only call this number in the event of a total emergency, mainly because the person he was calling could jeopardise their plans if he intervened, and yet...

Even if they were halfway there, by the time he got to the station, found a train, and then above all, the awful connections between the different stations before getting to Ruhenheim....

"Hello, Grimmer. Have you got a moment?"

Esther was waiting by the car, not quite able to keep still. She chewed her tongue to keep from biting her fingers and, above all, to suppress the desire for a cigarette. Bruno had gone into the little mini-market when Heinrich came out. She didn't immediately see what he was holding - after all, she didn't really care - until he handed it to her. A bag of sweets, in fact. Gummibärchen. The little gummy bears that had been her childhood.

Esther looked up at Heinrich, not quite understanding. She obviously accepted the gift with a grateful nod, but didn't know what else to say.

"Just as I must have told you about my divorce without remembering..." Heinrich began, hesitating for a moment, before placing a hand on Esther's shoulder. "You mentioned those gummy bears. I know your favourites are the white ones. The pineapple ones."

An imperceptible smile appeared on Esther's face, and she didn't even protest at the touch, continuing to nod and swallow back the tears that stung her eyes. Because even René had never noticed that...

Esther felt Heinrich let out a ‘hmph’ on impact, and she didn't immediately realise that she had hugged him. But she didn't want to move. Even if the contact was a little uncomfortable. Even though Heinrich placed three awkward pats on her back.

Because he didn't push her away.

Chapter Text

The streets of Ruhenheim were just as gloomy as the last time Lunge had set foot there. It wasn't raining, at least not at the moment, but the dark clouds were definitely threatening, and he had to admit that he was clearly tired from the hours he'd spent at the wheel, even though he'd swapped with Bruno once halfway through. On the one hand, so that he could rest, but also to tire the man out so that he wouldn't interfere with the inevitable turn of events.

Lunge knew full well that what he was doing was fundamentally wrong. He had driven Esther to madness by encouraging her delusions of revenge, and he shouldn't have done that. Taking advantage of a clinical condition was morally, as well as legally, reprehensible. But now that they were there, could he really take it back?

He doubted it, but he was convinced that there was no choice but to continue. He held Esther's wrist tightly as they walked, as if he was afraid she would slip away - or rather, that she would run off once she suspected something. He could feel her tense up at the slightest noise. He didn't dare look at her. He didn't dare face the monster he had just created.

Bruno yawned loudly, but Lunge didn't trust this meagre sign of tiredness, because the man was also tense, his jaw clenched, his eyes darting around at the slightest noise or every shadow that appeared on the buildings, less and less visible as the light diminished. Lunge looked up at the sky, and the sun was now overcast. He thought of asking his companions to go find shelter, but was held back.

Esther had stopped walking, and so had Bruno. Lunge eventually allowed himself to look at Esther, just for a moment, but she didn't return the favour. She and Bruno were watching a corner of the street with an almost frightening intensity, and when the first streetlights came on, casting a shadow, they both had an... unexpected reaction.

Lunge had to physically restrain Bruno before he could rush towards the mysterious figure, leaving Esther behind who, thank God, didn't seem to want to move. But the way she began to rummage in her inside pocket wasn't necessarily any more reassuring, and the weapon she pulled out...

The weapon she pulled out?

Lunge didn't remember supplying her with a weapon. He didn't remember her taking any. He thought back to what Grimmer had told him, that Esther could sometimes be a little more cunning in achieving her ends. She wasn't above searching the bag containing the weapons. And of course she had, it had been at her feet the whole travel.

However, to her surprise, Esther lowered the weapon when she recognised the figure, clenching her jaw and frowning. She approached slowly as Bruno still struggled in Lunge's arms - he was small but damn strong - and seemed less cautious, all of a sudden.

"Christof?" She called, and her suspicions were confirmed when they all heard a loud ‘Oh shit!’ that broke the silence. Still, Esther breathed a sigh of relief.

Lunge watched intently as the man called Christof, whom he had rarely seen in matters of wealth inheritance, emerged from his hiding place, hands in evidence. The young man himself seemed surprised when he saw that Esther was not pointing her revolver at the newcomer. Sure, she hadn't put it away, sure, she was still holding it with a grip that would make the ex-inspector's hold on a still-raging Bruno pale with envy, but she hadn't pointed it at him, which must have been reassuring for Christof, who also lowered his hands.

"You... You don't want to kill me, Doc?"

"What are you doing here?" Esther asked, eyebrows now arched in an expression of surprise. "Is Alice..."

"I don't think having this conversation here, of all places, is going to do us any good, Doc." Christof muttered, looking around. "If you don't mind us going somewhere a little more covered..."

"Armed, then." Lunge raised his eyebrows.

"To the teeth." Christof confirmed.

The place where they all hid was not the first choice. It was a narrow alleyway between two buildings, with a foul smell as the little group hid between rows of bins so as not to be caught unawares by any bullets fired in their direction.

Bruno half-listened as Esther explained who this young man was who had stirred his instincts - his thing, as he liked to call it. A monster, as it turned out, but like Grimmer, and Nina after him, his anger died in a few moments, once he saw that not only was ‘Christof’ no threat - he seemed rather fragile, and Bruno would have no problem subduing him if necessary - but moreover... Well, it was complicated to see this young man, who seemed just as lost and hurt as he could be, as a monster. Bruno knew how to recognise the false emotion that could sometimes be displayed to gain sympathy from the audience, or even to pretend to be normal. He'd practised it in his mirror when he was younger, so he was perfectly capable of pointing it out to others now. And he couldn't see it anywhere on Christof's face. So maybe trusting him wasn't such a bad idea.

What's more, Christof had just confirmed his suspicions. Alice wasn't dead.

Bruno had been convinced of this ever since that bloody article, which was even worse written than his own covering letters - he'd never been to school - but the statement had the effect of a punch in the gut. And, seeing the way Esther suddenly paled, he realised that he wasn't the only one to react so violently to the news.

"I knew it..." The woman then murmured with a sigh, as if relieved of a weight. "And everyone was telling me that... But I was sure..."

"You had a history of worrying a bit too much, both of you." Lunge remarked, her gaze alternating from Esther's face to Bruno's. "So I can understand why we didn't believe you straight away. But yes, you were right."

"Would you know where she is?" Bruno interrupted, not wanting to waste time drifting from the main topic of conversation.

"Not really. Let's just say she's well hidden." Christof conceded with a grimace. "And she's not alone."

"How many?" Esther enquired, frowning.

"About ten guys, I guess." Approximated Christof, thinking back to the men he had seen. "Established here for at least a month, so the locals don't suspect anything. They're scattered all over the city."

"Would you remember their faces?" Esther continued, leaning towards him.

"Vaguely. Mostly I remember where they are, rather. I don't think you were recognised as you drove through the town because you didn't take your car." He tossed to Esther, who sighed again. "But there's one in the hotel just around the corner, one in the bakery..."

"Let's start with our priorities. Is there one at the police station?" Lunge cut in, squinting.

"No." Christof said in an assertive voice as he adjusted himself to be more comfortable. "Not the police station."

"And why should we trust you?" Bruno grumbled, raising an eyebrow.

"Why wouldn't you?" Christof retorted, looking annoyed. "It's a gamble to take, I'll grant you that, but in the meantime, you don't really have any other option."

"Maybe you should go first, Heinrich." Esther offered, looking at the older man, who raised his brow. "I doubt Alice would have described you to her... goons."

"Probably." Lunge nodded slowly. "But I don't feel like leaving you alone."

"She's not alone." Bruno grumbled, crossing his arms.

"Let me correct that: I don't want to leave you with people who have no experience of tailing and with whom you'd probably find yourself spotted in a few minutes."

"The old man's a handful." Christof laughed.

Bruno rolled his eyes and frowned. He understood what Lunge was trying to say, and he wasn't wrong, but Bruno wasn't fooled, and could almost sense the ex-inspector's intention, which would surely push Esther to do something she had been reluctant to do for some time. Nevertheless, he decided to be the one to go to the police station, although he waited for a promise that no one would move while he waited.

"Good evening..." Bruno muttered as he entered the police station. "Could I have some information?"

He didn't miss the way they looked at him, mainly because these good-for-nothings must have been on a break or something. They had to be, since nothing ever happened in this village. Or maybe because very few people lived there now. Bruno almost felt sorry for them, but was quickly reminded of the importance of his mission and the fact that these men were literally being paid to do nothing.

As he explained why he had come, pretending to be a relative of one of Alice's victims, a prostitute called Barbara, he immediately noticed that a man who had been standing in the waiting room for some reason tensed up. Bruno clenched his jaw inwardly, continuing his story, but always keeping his posture slightly open towards the man standing there, to observe his reactions. And his suspicions were quickly confirmed by the insistence of the man's gaze. Christof had said that none of Alice's allies worked at the police station, but there was nothing to stop them dominating the area by going there as mere civilians.

Bruno sighed imperceptibly through his nose, also tense as the man behind the reception desk searched through the files, asking him for no identification papers whatsoever, and Bruno would have found this stupid under normal circumstances, but he had to admit that for the moment, it suited him just fine.

He was told that the staff had not been given any information about where Alice might have been buried, and he nodded slowly. He doubted that he'd been told anything out of respect for the person, and thought instead that the information had obviously been erased to cover their tracks and avoid false connections, because Alice wasn't dead. Bruno ran a hand through his hair as he prepared to leave the police station, before stopping in front of the person sitting in the waiting room. He was a young man, no more than thirty, dark-haired and rather stout.

"I feel like you and I should talk. Shall we take this outside?" Bruno smiled.

"My God, your mate's a savage!" Christof exclaimed as Bruno delivered one last well-placed kick to the young man's stomach, for his peace of mind, he said.

Lunge remained unmoved as he tied up the motionless but still breathing body, while Esther watched the bloodied young man being bound by small cords to one of the city's lampposts. Lunge stretched his back as he straightened before clearing his throat.

"Well." The ex-inspector turned to Esther, who had remained relatively wise and silent.

"I tried, I assure you." Bruno sighed, wiping away the few drops of blood that had ended up on him. "He remained silent."

"That's dedication for you." Christof whistled.

"In the meantime, it's not good for us." Bruno replied, crossing his arms. "What do we do now, kill him?"

"No..." Esther murmured.

Lunge and Bruno exchanged glances and Christof raised an eyebrow. Lunge obviously understood his confusion, especially if he had known Esther earlier in the year, she who stopped at nothing to achieve her goals.

"Well, the lady has spoken." Bruno shrugged. "Come on, let's get moving before we attract attention."

Lunge put an arm around Esther's shoulders, and she didn't try to pull away, just a shiver of surprise, to keep her moving. She didn't want to resist either. At the front, Christof and Bruno were arguing about trivial matters. At least, Lunge couldn't say that he cared. On the contrary, his attention was focused on Esther, who had begun to shrink into herself as they went along.

"It's going to rain..." she whispered, and Lunge could hear the distant thunder, and he nodded gently.

"It's going to rain now, isn't it?" Bruno exclaimed at the same time, looking up at the sky with a frown.

"Apparently it is. Come on, we're going into a building." Said Christof, opening a door as if nothing had happened.

"Is this your mother's town, or...?" Bruno laughed at the absurdity of the scene.

Christof grinned. "No, but it's not as if there's anything to steal. Locking the doors is too much effort, this village is ruined in any case."

Lunge made Esther go before him, looking back one last time. Bruno sat down on the first steps of the stairwell with an audible sigh, looking up at Esther who stood there without saying anything, then inviting her to sit with him by patting the space next to him. She didn't move, however, because Lunge's hand on her shoulder held her firmly in place, but also because she simply hadn't seen him. No, she was tracing with her fingertips the small empty signs that would normally contain the names of the inhabitants on the letterboxes.

Then Esther took some gummy bears from her outside pocket and put them to her mouth. The silence became almost oppressive. Esther began to chew the gummy bears, before turning towards the door.

"We weren't followed, Esther." Lunge reassured, patting Esther on the shoulder, though she kept looking at the door.

"They could have seen us." Christof argued as he adjusted his hair in the mirror in the building's entrance hall, trying to adjust the few damp strands. "But you're armed, aren't you?"

"To the teeth." Bruno completed, and the two men exchanged a look that lasted a few seconds.

"Not bad. I see what you were trying to do, here." Christof conceded with a sneer.

"You should sit down, Esther." Lunge whispered, slowly running his hand down the woman's back as she continued to stare outwards. The outside that frightened her, it seemed.

And she simply shook her head. He didn't dare go against her wishes.

It was definitely raining now. Christof was beginning to doze off, and Bruno with him - in a very uncomfortable position on the stairs, and Bruno, his eyes beginning to close, had unconsciously half slumped over the young man - so Lunge was relatively reassured not to have to listen to their incessant comments and bickering. Of course, their conversations were a welcome distraction from the constant tension, emanating mainly from Esther, who kept her eyes glued to the heavy, closed front door.

"You're very, unusually quiet." Lunge remarked.

Esther finally looked away to see the older man. He could see her swallow, her throat surely dry, then her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. She nodded gently. Lunge frowned slightly, but said nothing, not wanting to force the discussion where she didn't want to. She had to be silent for a reason. Concentration, surely. Her eyes were very focused despite the inattention she seemed to be showing to what was going on inside the building. Esther seemed rather careful to the noises outside, beyond the rain and thunder.

Then Esther tensed, and almost immediately Bruno sat up, rubbing his eyes to wake himself up, causing Christof to become agitated and gradually wake up as well.

"What's going on...?" Christof slurred, struggling to open his eyes, stretching his arms above his head.

"She's here." Bruno affirmed, sitting up abruptly. "Estrella? Shall we go?"

Esther nodded gently.

Bruno had decided to go out before Esther, mainly because he would be able to get ahead of her if Alice was indeed in the vicinity, but also to position himself in the trajectory of the shot from the moment Esther took aim, as he knew she would do nothing if there was an obstacle - a human one in this case. Bruno hadn't felt this wet since his training in the green-roofed house, where he ran in circles around the residence with mud up to his ankles. He often fell face first into the little puddles, and the instructors would spend twenty minutes or so showering him afterwards to make sure he didn't catch any diseases. They said that with all the children crammed into the little shed, it was better to make sure they were all in impeccable health.

The cold was obviously not pleasant, but there were more pressing matters. The darkness of the sky at the end of the afternoon did nothing to help the search, and the few street lamps placed at random around the village left large areas of shadow where it was relatively easy to get trapped. So Bruno was all the more on his guard. He would sometimes stop, pretending to have heard something or wanting to observe an alleyway more closely, just to feel Esther's presence at his back. With the thunder rumbling nearby, he wasn't sure he'd be able to notice if she ran off.

Especially as it was just the two of them now. Christof and Lunge had gone to the other side, to explore the city from another angle too. A decision which at first surprised Bruno, given that the ex-inspector seemed to take the task of keeping an eye on Esther to heart, but which suited him just fine. Alice had a better chance of showing her face to her duo, after all.

"Bruno..." Esther sighed, and the called out man immediately turned his eyes towards her, who was pointing at a building.

He followed her gaze himself, pointing to what appeared to be an old shop, now abandoned. And then the hairs on the back of his neck, though flattened by the raindrops, stood on end. He felt it too. There was a monster in there.

"Yes..." Bruno took his friend's hand, so cold, trembling, and they entered the grounds of the empty establishment.

Once he had closed the door, Bruno was reassured to see that Esther was not immediately moving towards the source of their shared anxiety. She wasn't trying to run to the monster. On the contrary, she was watching Bruno. Waiting for him. He would normally have pointed out the strangeness of the situation, its absurdity, questioned the reason for this apparent calm despite the imminent threat, the end that was on the horizon, the conclusion that would soon be drawn. Instead, he took her hand again and she turned her eyes towards the door at the back. They headed for it. It was locked. He kicked it open with his foot and shoulder, and Esther obviously immediately drew her revolver.

What they found was a monster, yes, but on the ground, in a pool of blood. Bruno thought nothing of it. He had no reaction to the sight of the body, apart perhaps from a dull satisfaction that came from a full instinct at the sight of the death of what he should, and always had, considered an enemy. For a split second, he blamed himself, telling himself that he was horrible, that his reaction was horrifying, inhuman. Especially when he heard Esther exhale feverishly.

Then Bruno realised the strategic interest Alice had in killing one of her associates if it was a monster. Namely to agitate Esther's thing so that it could react as Alice intended. Because this thing, like Bruno's, had neither faith nor law and responded only to the call of blood. He squeezed Esther's hand a little tighter to bring her back to herself, and she blinked a few times before looking up at him.

"Maybe he's not dead..." Esther said, and Bruno agreed to let go of her hand so that she could go and inspect the body.

And he helped her as she began to dress the wounds, saying nothing when he saw the man half-open his eyes to look at them, no doubt frightened. He looked like an animal about to be devoured by its predator. And then the dull satisfaction turned to concern. Into compassion. Bruno felt like he was breathing again.

"We don't want to hurt you. But you can help us." he said as Esther set to work, using everything she could in this room that looked like a warehouse for the business that had previously been present at this address.

Bruno adjusted the thick blanket to make sure the man wasn't suffering from hypothermia, exchanging glances with Esther who had straightened up, stretching her spine. He thought he recognised in her way of acting an automatism coming from a decade of learning how to look after others. But there was no interest. Perhaps Alice's attempt had worked. He hoped it hadn't.

"She told me you'd finish me off..." The man on the ground sighed as he too looked at Esther's silhouette against the light, standing in the open doorway. "She told me you had no heart. That you were an even worse monster than the ones I was afraid of as a child."

"As you can see, she was wrong." Bruno hissed as he straightened, feeling tension in his legs, deciding to pace for a moment. "You're still alive, aren't you?"

"Even worse than that..." The man whispered. "You helped me... You didn't finish me off, but you didn't leave me to die either..."

Bruno looked up at Esther, whose back was to him. He hoped she would turn round so that he could see her face, although he doubted he would be able to tell what she was thinking. But at least he could be reassured by an expression, however slight.

"Why, did you want to die?" Esther asked, and this question caused a deathly silence to fall.

"Yes..." The man confirmed, trying to stand up, but was brought to the ground in one swift movement.

"Bullshit." Esther muttered.

"Right, we're moving." Bruno warned as he stood up again. "You're old enough to call for help, or to shoot yourself if necessary, but don't expect us to make it easy for you. Later, bro."

The man said nothing and watched them go, before turning his eyes to the ceiling. "Bullshit, huh..."

Lunge kept a wary eye on Christof as he walked ahead. He wouldn't normally have put a civilian who couldn't defend himself in front of him, but there were exceptions to everything, and this young man seemed to have a very special weapon of his own. The bright spark in his eyes put the older man on his guard as if something was about to happen, as if a low blow would soon be dealt. He didn't think Christof was inherently bad but, like Esther or Bruno, although his past didn't define him, if he had been involved in illegal activities - namely the drama that had surrounded the nameless monster the previous year - then caution was still called for.

"There's one in there." Christof informed as they passed what appeared to be a convenience store. "He works at the till. And the till's at the entrance, so there's no way of escaping him."

Lunge nodded imperceptibly, looking around warily. "What if one of them should happen to be in the street?"

"You and I have nothing to fear, in any case. You should be more worried about Doc Leroy and her friend." Christof shrugged.

"Are you amused by this situation?" Lunge asked, squinting.

"Does it seem to amuse me?" Christof said indignantly, wrinkling his nose and his eyes. "Do you think I'm enjoying myself? That I think it's funny that I might get shot?"

"Yet, from what Doctor Tenma told me, your former companion..."

"Don't talk about him. He's him. And I'm me. I have no desire to die. And I think, deep down, he didn't want to either." Christof crossed his arms, restraining the chatter of his teeth. The cold was beginning to affect him too, it seemed. "He simply realised his delusions of grandeur. Or perhaps he had become a coward. Either way, I'm disappointed in him."

"And so you simply changed your mind? Decided to help the other side? For your own self-interest, I presume." Lunge continued.

"Well, you presume wrong." Christof scoffed. "And anyway, you can believe what you like. The truth is that you'll be wrong no matter what theories you come up with. I gather you don't have the sharpest instincts."

Lunge frowned and decided that it might be better for him not to talk to this sharp-tongued brat. So he returned to his inspection of the place, just with his eyes for the moment. He saw very little movement. Ruhenheim was just as empty as he remembered, and perhaps that was for the best. So they didn't have to look far to hope to see any suspicious behaviour.

"There's one in there too." This time Christof pointed to a building, albeit much more discreetly, with a simple shake of his head. "He lives on the third floor, second door on the left. He looks out of the window most of the time. For all we know, he's already told Alice. For all we know, he hasn't."

Lunge tensed, glancing at the designated window without turning his head. At this distance and in the rain, even with binoculars, there was little chance of the individual seeing him. Lunge, on the other hand, saw him just outside his closed window. A silhouette that didn't move. And perhaps it was just his imagination, but he thought he was being watched in return. But he didn't hurry his pace to pass by the building any faster. He simply looked away, as if it were just a coincidence.

"Do they know you?" Lunge asked.

Christof shrugged. "I've no idea. I don't think Alice gave any description of me. But if she did, let me tell you, we're both in deep shit."

"That's reassuring."

"Was that supposed to be sarcasm? Because it was absolutely lame." Christof remarked. "Besides, you should know what you signed up for when you come here. Does it bring back bad memories?"

"Not necessarily." Lunge was lying and he knew it, but he didn't need the damn kid meddling in his business.

Christof seemed to sniff out the lie, and opened his mouth to say something - surely a scathing remark, or a frighteningly accurate account of what had happened - but he shut it again immediately, deciding to look ahead instead. Lunge was almost grateful.

"We do agree that this is the third one, right?"

Esther simply nodded, as Bruno watched her, bandaging the wounds of a man on the ground. He frowned. So he'd been right. Alice was indeed trying to revive Esther's thing. The proof was that everyone was saying the same thing. They wanted to die. Like what Agustín had apparently said before she killed him. But all the more questions were raised in Bruno's mind.

Did she kill him because he asked her to or because she saw him as a monster?

Bruno had understood that Esther was in favour of euthanasia. She said that if a person no longer wanted to live, then there was no reason to force them to continue. But this was an opinion she held when she herself was in a bad patch. And she who insisted every time a monster, injured on the ground, that they were just talking rubbish when they expressed their wish to die, but did nothing to finish them off when they were really monsters...

Bruno was deeply confused. He thought he knew her, and yet he realised the gulf that had opened up over all those years apart. Esther sighed as she straightened up, having silenced the monster lying in front of them about his suicidal tendencies.

"Are we moving?" Bruno asked.

Esther shook her head, then raised a finger to the floor. "There's someone upstairs..."

So they went upstairs, and at last there was a fourth body waiting for them. Bruno began to wonder how long these men had been left to bleed to death. In any case, this one looked a little younger, and he was scared.

"I don't want to die..." he muttered over and over, his eyes filling with tears. "Please don't kill me... Don't kill me..."

Esther had gone over to him and started to tend to him. The man was now sobbing, relieved, his rales tearing the silence. Bruno watched the scene without saying a word, his head tilted slightly to one side. He should have been pleased that Esther was struggling against her own thing. However, he felt that her care, although effective, was too mechanical. It came not from compassion, but from obligation.

"Thank you..." The man sighed as he took Esther's wrist. "Thank you!"

Esther said nothing, and Bruno clenched his fists. What else could he really do?

"We saw five out of ten, at least. The four wounded, and the guy I curb stomped." Bruno remarked, seeing the frustration rise on Esther's wet face as they walked out again.

"Where is she..." Esther sighed as she quickened her pace.

And Bruno could only follow her. Of course he was beginning to lose patience too. Of course the landscape, the buildings all looking the same and stretching to infinity in his field of vision, was beginning to tire him. But what else could he do?

He grabbed her hand and she pulled away. He grabbed her arm and she turned towards him. At last he saw her expression. A grimace, frozen, eyes wide open, pupils ridiculously small. She was scared. She was terrified.

"If I don't kill her..." Esther didn't know how to finish her sentence.

Bruno nodded gently. "We'll go back and see the others, okay?"

"Did you find anything?" Christof asked as they all met back at the starting point, taking off his soaked jacket, relatively dry underneath.

"Casualties. They were monsters, so I guess they were part of Alice's men." Bruno explained, ruffling his hair to keep it from sticking to his forehead. "They all expected Esther to come and finish them off."

"She changed her strategy, then..." Christof sighed, letting his gaze drift to Esther, who had also taken off her coat. "Last time, she didn't warn me that she wanted Esther to kill me. And this time Alice is telling them she's coming to kill them."

"Would you have any idea why?" Bruno raised his arms, leaning back against the railing.

Christof glanced at him, then wrinkled his nose. "Vaguely, but I think imagining it's just because it didn't work last time seems a bit weak, in terms of explanation."

"It does." Bruno grumbled.

"Do you have a better idea, perhaps?" Christof squinted. "Because in the meantime, you're the one who's supposed to know her better, or whatever but we don't hear much from you."

Bruno huffed, looking away. "I've got my own idea, but I've no desire to share it with you. I don't trust you."

Christof looked as if he wanted to take offence, but just rolled his eyes. "I can't say I blame you. I've never been the most reliable person. But in case you've forgotten, we're all stuck here."

"And?" Bruno raised an eyebrow.

"You don't trust the old man either, and Esther's in a daze, so she won't listen to you. Who are you going to trust, anyway?" Christof remarked, and Bruno's features hardened further.

Grimmer was nervous. In his hands he held the small weight of Esther's lighter. He was watching the scenery pass before his eyes, and he would normally have been fascinated, intrigued, but he couldn't. His mind was completely elsewhere. His mind was completely elsewhere. The closer he got to the village, the darker the clouds became. Furthermore, it was getting dark. In addition, he had not been reassured by Denise's words.

'I had the very bad feeling that I was talking to my daughter for the last time.'

Perhaps it was just a paranoid thought caused by the sudden disappearance of her daughter when they had a less cold relationship. When they had finally found each other again. But he too had a feeling of discomfort that swelled in the pit of his stomach the closer he got to the village. He would have to get off the train a few kilometres away from the village. The floods were blocking the way. Just like last time.

He swallowed hard and felt his heart pounding against his chest. The corners of his vision darkened, until all he could see was the lighter in his hand, which he turned over and over to keep his attention on something, anything. He felt himself burning, and yet he was shaking, sweat was beading his forehead, and yet the droplets seemed icy cold. He couldn't feel his face, or his fingertips, or anything below his belt, even though he could see his legs beneath him. He felt as if his body was a stranger to him.

When had he started hyperventilating?

The image of Esther's motionless body seared itself into his retinas, like a bad nightmare that stays with him long after he wakes up. He tried to push his mind away, to read over and over the three letters engraved on the lighter, to open and close it, but he quickly lost control of his hand, which he instead clenched tightly. The image still danced behind his eyelids when he closed his eyes, and then there was the metallic, foul smell of blood that he could see on his hands, because it was him, it was his fault, he should have stayed with her and held her back, because he knew she would leave, but he had decided to walk away because he had simply been selfish.

He kept blinking rapidly, his heart in his throat, his stomach contracting involuntarily, until he curled in on himself. The lighter bit into his hand, nearly drawing blood, and it was a pain he welcomed, because it kept him grounded in reality. Since it was a week day, there were very few passengers, and especially no one in the booth he was sitting in. So no one could hear him as he began to sob.

Chapter Text

"When you shoot, you must never hesitate. But you must always treat your target with respect. Even if it's just an animal you're aiming at, you have to do it properly, cleanly, so that the suffering isn't too long. Anyway, I'm telling you this, but don't just start shooting people, understand?"

A gun held out in his direction.

"Your turn now."

Lunge felt Esther's head dislodge from where it rested on his shoulder. He turned his eyes towards her as she began to rub her sleepy eyes. She still hadn't let go of his hand, even though she had just woken up. The man's gaze softened when he noticed how disoriented she looked, blinking slowly.

"Good evening." He greeted, hoping he wasn't too dry in his intonation, rolling his shoulder sore from his prolonged immobility. After all, he was afraid of waking her.

"Did I fall asleep?" Esther asked in a small voice.

"Yes, but it's all right, Esther. You must be tired." Lunge remarked as she looked down at Esther's hand, which was clasping his. "Must have been some dream, huh... You took my hand and kept mumbling ‘Papa'..."

Esther looked away. "Yes, sorry... I've been thinking about him a lot lately... Maybe it's because the anniversary of his death is coming up. Or maybe because I'm going to be joining him soon."

It was the longest sentence she ever said since they left Düsseldorf, but Lunge didn't point it out to her. He didn't think it was necessary, because the horror of what she'd said squeezed his throat. He really had gone soft over time, it seemed.

"You will not die today, Esther." The man reassured her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to rub her arm.

Silence. Esther stared blankly, then her expression changed to something much sadder. Lunge brought her back to him, resting his chin on the top of her head, then rubbed her back, hoping to bring her comfort. Something he didn't really know how to give. But he was trying. He was trying because it seemed the right thing to do in this situation, with this woman who trusted him against his better judgment. Even when he was pushing her to her end, surely.

They stayed like that for a few moments before Esther pulled away, a little ashamed. But Lunge didn't mind, nor try to mock her in any way. On the contrary, he patted the top of her head so that she looked up at him.

"Not if I can help it."

"Killing someone isn't that complicated, when you look at it, especially for us, who are used to and comfortable with the pressure of the trigger. No, for us, it's not really the act of killing that terrifies us, but rather the consequences. Are you afraid of becoming a bad person?"

Shake of head.

"That's what I thought. That's good. If you're not afraid of perpetuating evil, if you're not afraid of being seen as a monster, then you'll never be afraid of anything. But I think you're lying. Well, no, not that you're lying, but that you don't know your truth yet."

Shake of head.

"I'm telling you, my child. Sometimes you think you're stronger than anything. And we come across something we just can't do. I know what I'm talking about."

A hand was placed on her head.

"I'm telling you now, because you're my child, and you're brilliant. But you're too pragmatic for your own good, in this world of wolves who are just waiting for you to flinch so they can devour you whole. Don't stop at anything to achieve excellence, you hear? If your truth doesn't match the world's, then you'd better not follow it at all. Because those morals, those manners that your mother is trying to instil in you won't get you anywhere in real life. When you try to please everyone, you become their target. You don't want to be their target, do you?"

Shake of head.

"That's what I thought. That's a good thing. Even if something is beyond you. Even if something seems impossible to overcome. But you can. Because you're mine. I made you. I know what you're worth."

Lunge had obviously started running after Esther the moment she had bolted off in what seemed to him a random direction, but which must have been very precise for her, dropping her cane and shouting “Papa!” at the top of her voice. And damn, she could run fast! He could see her less and less as she continued running, perfectly steady despite the slippery ground from the rain, becoming just a black speck in the distance. But Lunge didn't want to give up and kept running, sometimes slowing down when he felt himself losing his balance, then speeding up again.

When he reached a fork in the road, he had to stop and look around. With the pouring rain and thunder, he couldn't hear anything and couldn't recognise the sound of Esther's shoes on the tarmac as she ran. In fact, he couldn't hear anything at all, and he told himself that calling her name out loud in such a dangerous area — he vaguely recognised the building where he had seen the figure at the window, not wanting to look in for fear of what he might see — and where she was clearly likely to be shot was one of the worst ideas he could have had. So he kept quiet and didn't know what to do, unable to discern the direction Esther had taken.

However, the first shot that rang out was strangely close to him, whipping past his ear, and he froze for a moment before he was finally able to react. It came from behind him, on the right. Or was it on the left? He wasn't sure. He felt as if his ears were blocked, partly by the water that was now running down his clothes, the fabric sticking to his skin, but also by the obvious pressure of the air beaten by the raindrops falling to the ground with a whipping sound. The pursuit of Esther was momentarily interrupted, overridden by an urgent survival instinct that whispered to him that he was in mortal danger, roared through his body, and urged him to grip his weapon tightly. However, he decided not to point it indiscriminately, for fear that his hands would be targeted, which would then render him unable to defend himself in a critical situation.

He decided not to remain static, taking the opportunity to move closer to the buildings and observe the windows. The silhouette watching him had disappeared, the window closed, the curtains drawn; it was not this person who had aimed at him. However, in the building directly opposite, he could see the reflection of light on the barrel of a rifle in the flash of lightning. All he had to do was find a blind spot and, above all, a way to get into the building to deal with this individual. If he was wounded, then there was no doubt that he was one of the men Bruno and Esther had already encountered. And if that was the case, Lunge would not show them the same mercy, and would take it upon himself to finish the job where his two companions had been magnanimous.

As he tried the front door, which was obviously double-locked, he took refuge in the adjacent alleyway, simply to catch his breath. The shooter's apartment did not overlook Lunge's shelter, so he allowed himself a brief moment of respite before climbing onto a rubbish bin to sneak through a window he had broken, carefully avoiding the debris. It would be foolish to injure himself so early on.

Lunge stuck to the walls as he climbed the stairs, so as not to be taken by surprise if his attacker was above him. Fourth floor, then. His weapon was still pointed upwards, close to the steps, just in case he needed to deliver a little correction – it was never pleasant to end up with a bullet lodged in your leg – while he determined whether there was any information to be extracted from the person before possibly finishing them off. To his surprise, his attacker was not waiting for him at the top of the stairs, his door closed. Lunge was able to break it down after a few moments, the lighter material giving way under his weight.

And the man had his hands up when he entered.

"Hi Heinrich, do I ring a bell?" He asked with a wink. "Maxence Muller. We were in the same promotion."

"I understand you've had a row with your mother."

Nodding.

"And I understand it was because you'd been on an athletics course, running around a clay pitch after it had rained, and so missed your gymnastics lesson. You came back soaking wet, with abrasions on your knees."

A nod. A smile.

"Did you get first, at least?"

Bruno hissed through his teeth as he felt the use of his left arm gradually slipping away. The damn bullet lodged between the curve of his shoulder and his bicep was starting to make the muscle tremble as he pressed down on the tender, bleeding area. He hated this feeling of helplessness that betrayed him at this crucial moment, rendering him unable to defend Christof, who was being restrained, his nose covered with an ugly purple bruise, surely broken.

Bruno tried to sit up, to fight against the pain that immobilised him. But the weapon pointed at his nose forced him to stay on the ground for a moment.

"Sorry 'bout that, we still need him for a bit..." said one of the men, pushing the young man with the muzzle of his own weapon between his shoulder blades. "Come on, move, kid."

Bruno remained motionless until he heard the building door close, then he took the opportunity to rush at his attacker, who fired into thin air. He used his right arm—which was far from being the stronger of the two, but the other one hurt terribly—to deliver a series of blows to the man's face, but the latter seemed strong enough to turn the tables, and it was Bruno who was violently struck in the face, repeatedly, and he was beginning to lose his composure. He began to feel himself drifting away, his eyes losing their focus, his head feeling so light. He had already taken quite a few blows to the face in his life, and usually he came out of it fine. He managed to hang on, digging deep within himself to find motivation, something, anything.

But fatigue was catching up with him, and the blood flowing from his arm wound, as well as from his mouth and nose, wasn't helping. Then there was a sharp, violent sound of something breaking. Wood. Loud.

The man above him fell to the ground with a thud, then Bruno was able to catch his breath, blink several times, and slowly sit up, shaking, trying to see what had just happened. He saw Esther standing in front of him, holding the back of a chair in her hands. A wooden chair.

"You... broke... a chair..."

"On his head, yes," Esther replied, letting go of the backrest, tapping her hands to knock the splinters and debris off her gloves, before taking Bruno's arm so he could use her as a crutch.

Esther led him to the stairwell and let him rest for a moment. He looked up at her, but couldn't see her face. He couldn't see her frightened grimace. In fact, he couldn't see anything; he couldn't make her out anymore. All he could do was cling to her coat.

"Christof..." Bruno muttered. "They took him away..."

"I know," Esther whispered. "You should take a nap, Brunito."

"No..." Bruno closed his other hand around Esther's coat. "Take me with you."

"If you want to be useful, you'd better go and find Heinrich," Esther argued, taking a step back, and Bruno's hands ended up on the bars of the staircase railing. "He must need help, I haven't seen him for a while..."

Bruno, his hand trembling, reached into his pocket for a cigarette, careful not to offer one to his friend, knowing full well how much effort it had taken her to quit — and the consequences she was still suffering from. Esther knelt down in front of him to light it for him when she saw that he was having trouble opening the lighter. Bruno's eyes dropped to Esther's knees.

"Your cane..." Bruno looked around for it. "Where is it?"

"It slowed me down when I was running," Esther admitted, closing the lighter and putting it in Bruno's pocket. "So I left it behind. Are you going to see Heinrich, or not?"

"Yes, yes, I'll go... Wait, hold on, no. No, I can't leave you alone." Bruno corrected himself, exhaling smoke and frowning when he saw Esther coughing. Sure, she had stopped smoking, but...

Esther waved her hand to chase the smoke out of the air she was breathing in before straightening up. "Well, you'll grant me I got here all by myself anyway. I ran," she added, seeing Bruno's confused expression. "I ran very fast and made sure I didn't fall. No one followed me, but there's no way to be sure that no one saw me."

"All the more reason," insisted Bruno, bringing the cigarette to his lips and holding it there while he searched his pocket for his own revolver. "If Alice were to find out..."

"It wouldn't be the first time one of our little schemes didn't go as planned," Esther retorted, hands on her hips. "And we don't know Alice's intentions, so it's better to try to appease her. In the meantime, let's try to avoid any deaths. And for that, it would be better if you went to see Heinrich."

"No," Bruno said curtly. "I know what you're going to do, and I refuse."

Esther knelt down in front of him again. "I'm asking you nicely, Bruno. But know that I can leave right now without your consent and leave you here. I'm simply offering you an alternative that would benefit us all. Do you understand?"

Bruno frowned, searching Esther's face, but it was as if his eyes refused to look at her. No matter how hard he tried, his gaze turned away. Yet he needed to see her, just to confirm that the person in front of him was still her, and not the little girl he had known.

"You may not understand it yet, and I don't blame you, you're young. Any reward will only be granted to you after sacrifices of varying degrees, and you must be prepared to make them. I told you, you mustn't be afraid of the consequences on your mind or your way of being, and you're not afraid, and that's very good, but do you know what you should fear even less?"

Silence.

"Death."

Silence.

"Whether it's your own or someone else's, death is a natural conclusion to everything that has ever existed, even things that seem immutable to us. The stars in the sky, the trees around us, the people we know... Everything that lives must die one day, everything that has happened comes to an end, everything that remains ends up forgotten or left to rot from lack of maintenance."

Silence.

"Of course, it is just as natural to fear it. To wonder when it will come. To fear, at first, that it will take us too soon. But how do we define “too soon”? How can we determine the exact moment to die? When do we decide that a being has fulfilled its purpose, whatever that may be, if it exists?"

Silence.

"I'm not asking you not to ask yourself questions about death, which has fascinated so many enlightened minds before you who have never managed to understand it. At least, beyond the purely biological point of view. What I am asking you is not to be afraid of it. Because once you no longer fear consequences or death, once you agree to let go of your inhibitions, your doubts, the moral and fictitious laws that govern you, then yes, my daughter, you will have become who you are meant to be. A model of excellence. Many will find you cruel, treacherous, driven solely by your own desires, and perhaps they will be right."

Silence.

"All light must accept its share of shadow. Those who deny it are poor fools in need of help who do not see the greatness of what they could accomplish, if only they had the courage."

"You always ruin everything."

Esther had thought, at the time, that this was the most hurtful thing anyone had ever said to her. But was it untrue? Everywhere she went, she frustrated well-laid plans. As soon as she got involved in a case, she inevitably dragged along poor innocent people who suffered in her place.

Because Esther thought she was immune to suffering. And she had been wrong to think so.

When she ran through the streets, having abandoned Bruno who had now gone towards Heinrich, her whole body was sending out signals of distress and pain. Her legs would have given out on her quickly, if she hadn't been shaken by the desire to get it over with once and for all. If her heart hadn't been pumping so fast on adrenaline, unleashed by the visceral fear of not succeeding, of ruining this operation when the goal was clear, she would surely have collapsed from exhaustion. The truth was, she couldn't take it any more. She knew she couldn't go on if she didn't finish this nightmare today. Esther was stubborn, but even she could see her limit approaching.

The limit.

Esther wasn't sure what lay beyond that. She doubted that giving up was a solution her mind would adopt. Or maybe it was, and she hoped it was. In this case, she wanted to reassure herself that she was not yet totally lost to her thing. Esther hated this thing with as much fury as Grimmer had ever shown, but had simply chosen to accept it because it was a part of her that she would be forced to live with forever. But Esther was just as terrified. If this thing was capable of driving her to murder, what would happen when she eventually crossed the line?

She promised herself she wouldn't have to think about that when she finished the whole thing.

"You always have to shoot twice."

"Why twice?"

"Some people will tell you it's for your peace of mind, others will tell you it's to maximise your chances of survival... I'd tell you it's an act of mercy."

"Why?"

"By shooting twice, precisely, you make sure that the other person, your target, doesn't suffer. And I know what you're thinking. Why should I care what the other feels? If he's my target, then he deserves to be killed. And you're right, of course. He who regrets is weak. But he who ignores the other is a monster."

"The other is someone."

"The other is someone, but not necessarily your equal."

Lunge was out of breath, leaning against the table behind him, staring at the unconscious body at his feet. The sharp blow from the rifle butt to his stomach was beginning to weigh heavily on him, and it took all his strength not to fall to the ground and curl up in a pathetic attempt to ease the pain.

"Bruno, that's enough," he said calmly, afraid that his comrade might be provoked by a tone that was a little too firm.

And Bruno slowly but surely stopped attacking Maxence on the floor, who was already motionless. The man's shoulders rose with difficulty as he too caught his breath, his gaze lost as he looked up at Lunge, then down again at the body, reaching out with his fingers, the knuckles torn, to feel for a pulse, weak but still beating. Then he seemed more lucid, blinking several times.

"I..." Bruno paused and cleared his throat. "Nothing broken?"

"No," Lunge reassured him, rubbing the area on his stomach that still hurt terribly, knowing a bruise would form there. "What about you?"

"I'll be fine..." Bruno murmured, continuing before Lunge could intervene and point out that he wasn't really answering the question. "Esther is currently alone, so we'd better get going."

Lunge didn't dare protest.

He didn't really understand the science that must surely exist behind the fact that Bruno seemed to know exactly where he was going as he followed Esther and Christof's “trail”. Esther had already told him about an instinct that allowed them to recognise monsters, which were the offspring of 511 Kinderheim, but he had always doubted the reality of this talent – if it could be called that – until now. First Esther, who had run off like she was possessed by the Holy Spirit or something to save Bruno, and now Bruno, who was running to catch up with Esther.

Lunge was well aware, especially since the incident with the nameless monster the previous year, that there were sometimes things he would never understand. Things that were beyond his comprehension and common sense. Sometimes it was better to observe in silence. Sometimes it was better to wait. And maybe, just maybe, everything would become clear one day.

Bruno pushed open a door and ran up the stairs, skipping steps and almost falling, before pushing open a second door on the first floor, then freezing. Lunge followed him and looked over his shoulder.

"Don't move... don't even think about moving..." whispered Bruno, his eyes wide.

And Lunge understood that at the slightest noise, Alice would shoot.

"Who's that woman who's been following us for the last ten minutes or so?"

"Your wife, Papa, who do you want it to be?"

"My wife? I don't have a wife, Esther. I'm on my own. I have only you. My daughter. My love."

"What are you talking about? Come on, Papa, this is ridiculous..."

"I still remember the day you were put in my arms for the first time. You were so little. So tiny. Not even bigger than my forearm. I rocked you and you stopped crying. I knew, straight away, that it was you. That it would always be you."

"You're talking nonsense. How could I have been born without a mother?"

Silence.

"I don't know. But that's how I remember it."

Silence.

"I also remember that ‘Papa’ was the first word you managed to say. I remember how happy I was when I held you in my arms. You, who were still just a baby, thought you'd done something stupid when I started screaming. And then you followed my example. You laughed too. Like a bag of bells being shaken. I was happy, you know. It was as if something inside me had been accomplished."

Silence.

"What year are you starting again? Oh yes, you're going into CM2... The last class of primary school, you must be happy! Have you made any progress on your holiday notebook?"

"Papa... I'm eighteen..."

"What do you mean, eighteen? We celebrated your ninth birthday last week!"

Esther had to stop for a moment at the corner of the street to vomit. Her stomach was cramping painfully, cold sweat mingling with the icy water that had soaked her clothes. She was trembling and pale because she felt she was very close to her goal. Anxiety made her heart pound against her chest. She ran a hand over her face before pulling herself together. Out of the corner of her eye, as she climbed the stairs, she heard sounds of a struggle, an altercation she paid no attention to, despite the familiar voices that her brain couldn't quite recognise or associate with names.

Windows breaking. Blows being struck. Painful groans like Nathaniel's that evening. Hoarse breathing, like hers, she had no doubt as she stumbled over a cane lying on the floor. A cane she recognised, but not as her own. Like an object she might have owned one day, perhaps, if the wheels of fate had turned differently. She pushed it away with her foot, muttering a few colourful insults for interrupting her progress, before her hand rested on the door handle, behind which, she had no doubt, lay the very cause of her misfortune.

Or perhaps it was too easy to blame one person for all the misery in her life. What had she done to improve herself, after all? She had given up ballet. She no longer made friends at school. She didn't speak. She was afraid of other people's faces, which showed nothing but pity.

Poor thing, they must have said, her father is losing his mind. She must be suffering so much. Poor little thing, they must have thought.

She pushed open the door and her vision faltered for a moment, blurred and darkened, before becoming clear again as she saw a woman she didn't know, with a man she didn't know, tied to a chair. She stared at the scene with furrowed brows and wide eyes. Why was she here, again? What had she come to do here, in this room? Who was her enemy here?

The woman gently took her wrist. The woman led her into the room and sat her down opposite the man, who seemed to be in pain. She turned her eyes towards the outside when she heard another window break, and the woman patiently redirected her gaze back to the man. She could now make out his face more clearly. He was an adult in danger. He was in pain, and he was afraid. She had never seen that kind of expression on an adult before.

She looked down at her hands, the fingers seeming so long, holding a metal object that she only recognised a few moments later as the Smith & Wesson her father had given her so she wouldn't touch his favourite rifle. She swallowed loudly and looked back at the woman, who smiled patiently at her. She had sweat on her forehead, which stuck her hair to her face, and it was very unpleasant. She wiped it away with the back of her hand, and the man jumped at her gesture. He was afraid. Afraid of her. Why?

The woman placed her hands on her shoulders. It was a burning touch that made her want to scream or tear her skin off.

"My Papa..." She whispered, looking around her.

A scream outside made her turn her eyes to the windows. The woman brought her face back to the man's, and she didn't understand. She looked down at the gun again. Oh yes, of course, that must be what he was afraid of.

"Hey, Doctor..." the man called.

She continued to stare at the gun. Maybe she should let go of it, but she couldn't. Her finger was still on the trigger, and her heart was beating so hard it was almost shaking her. She took a deep, wheezing breath as she felt the tremors creep until they beat in her head. She closed her eyes, squeezing them shut, blocking out the noises from outside. Now she was cold. Why was she soaking wet? She turned her eyes to the outside. She had time to see that it was raining before she was forced to look at the man in front of her again.

"Esther?" the man tried a second time.

She looked up at him. Yes, that was her name, he was talking to her. Why was he talking to her if he was afraid? Why was he afraid? Who was he?

"My Papa..." she repeated. "Where's my Papa?"

"I... I don't know, Esther..." the man admitted, lowering his eyes.

"He's dead," replied the woman behind her.

"No..." she whispered.

"And you killed him," the woman continued, her words close to her ear.

"No, no..."

"But it doesn't matter, you know... He said so himself, some people deserve to die. Do you remember?"

She buried her face in her hands, feeling the metal of the gun against her face. It almost hurt, the metal digging into her skin as she scratched her face, just to feel it, because it almost seemed as if it had disappeared. She couldn't feel it anymore.

"My Papa..."

"...is dead, Esther." The woman insisted, her voice growing harsher, frightening her as she shook her head.

"No, no, no!"

She had stood up, walking around the room in circles, not looking at anyone, trying to scream but nothing came out, or maybe it did, and she just couldn't hear it anymore. Someone grabbed her by the shoulders, and she pushed away the figure that had melted onto her. She finally managed to scream, and it was in a voice she didn't recognise. It wasn't her screaming, it was them, it was her friend, it was Chapo-Sapo.

She hesitated to let them take her place. They had always known what to do in situations like this. They knew not to let himself be swallowed up like she was doing.

"Papa!" she shouted once more. "It wasn't me, it was you! It was you! You said it! You told me you wanted to die! You lied to me, Papa!"

Papa was starting not to remember anything, and so he told her that he was afraid he wouldn't remember her either. He said he'd rather die, and she didn't want that. He said he was going to ask the doctors to kill him, and they didn't want that either. He said he would let himself die, but Maman kept looking after him. So...

When Nathaniel was on the floor... And she had gone upstairs. Papa had become René. He was no longer her Papa. When she was in the office, with the gun in her hands, and she had hesitated, she remembered that René wanted to die. And she had fulfilled his wish because he was no longer Papa. He was René. She didn't like René.

She let out another cry, muffled this time in her hands, and the metal of the gun dug deeper into her skin. She fell to her knees, and one of them hurt her. She shook her head, pulled at her hair, and heard voices, screams, people trying to approach her, and she broke free, throwing her gun away, to the sound of another window breaking. She thought she heard footsteps receding, her hands encountered pieces of glass, then she was grabbed by the wrists, her head hit the corner of a chest of drawers, but she still did not scream.

Someone yelled in her face that it would be better if she died. She was thrown to the ground, but she didn't try to get up. The first blow came from the right, and her head spun, her lungs deprived of air. She was attacked from all sides, but she was convinced it was only one person. She curled up into a ball, they sat on her, they hit her in the face with bony knuckles that hurt, sharp nails that dug into her skin, she didn't scream. She didn't struggle either. She whispered to her father that she was sorry, each blow bringing her a little closer to Papa's face up in the sky, while her throat and chest burned and slender fingers wrapped around her neck. Then the blows stopped and she remained on the ground, her body pierced by pain. She heard the sounds of someone struggling to catch their breath. She struggled to get up and saw the man wrapping a cane around the woman's throat. She leaned against the chest of drawers to get up, but fell again, her forehead hitting the wood. The woman managed to break free from the man and ran away. The man approached her. He helped her up, even though he was afraid of her a few moments before. She trembled for a moment. Her eye hurt, so she kept it closed. He wanted to help her move, but she pushed him away too.

The man let her be. She staggered into the stairwell, collapsed against the railing, unable to let go as she descended the steps, her legs giving way with each step. The skin on her face burned, torn in places, and when she brought her hand up to wipe away something that was running down her face—tears, sweat, or blood? — it was sticky, and a metallic taste lingered on her tongue when she moistened her lips. She fell to the bottom of the stairs when her legs gave way on the last few steps, her cheek against the floor as something pounded in her skull. She lay there for a moment, her mouth open, almost drooling, before she came to, feeling herself losing consciousness. She wanted to call out to her father, whom she sensed was nearby, but her throat hurt.

"Esther!" she heard behind her. It was the man from earlier.

She pushed herself off the floor, finding nothing to hold on to, and had to rely on the strength of her arms, which was almost non-existent. By some miracle, she found herself standing, her back bent like a cat's. Papa would have told her to stand up straight. She couldn't. She was in pain. She fumbled for the handle, which she pushed down, and could only see the street through one eye covered with wet strands of hair. She moved forward and could no longer feel her face. She coughed and the metallic taste returned. She heard the screech of tyres and turned her face just enough to see the car hit a familiar figure.

"Bruno..." she whispered.

His body was lying on the ground. Like her brother's before him.

Pan !

A gunshot, and a searing pain on the side of her body, right there, in her waist. She faltered under the impact and looked down at the puddle covering the tips of her boots, the water dispersing blood. Her blood? The blood flowing from her face.

"We're going to die, you know."

She couldn't hear that voice; it was part of her. It echoed in her head, invisible to her ears, lucid and clear to her mind. She nodded slowly.

"Will you handle the rest? You need some sleep."

She simply closed her eyes.

Chapo-Sapo moved efficiently. Despite the pain that should have immobilised their body, they simply walked over to Bruno, leaned over him, and noticed the absence in his wide-open eyes, staring blankly into a corner. They dragged Bruno to a building and placed him in the recovery position, as they had been taught in medical school, mechanically.

Chapo-Sapo then went to retrieve their weapon from among the broken glass. The grip hurt a little at first, and they noticed the glass already embedded in their palm, grimacing, but they got into position.

Pan ! Pan ! - two sounds that seemed so easy to make, whenever they had a weapon in hand. The monster, their favourite type of targets, was in the vehicle that had hit Bruno. At the bend in the road, when it wanted to turn, Chapo-Sapo would take advantage of its weak exposure to kill it. They could get its skull if they aimed well.

And yet, for the very first time, they couldn't hold their position. Their eye hurt. Their stomach trembled, alternating between contraction and relaxation, not knowing which would minimise the pain the most. Their teeth chattered, their frozen body begging them to just... stop. They couldn't.

Then, the fateful sign. Their wrist trembled. For the first time in almost thirty years of existence, their wrist lost its stability. They couldn't shoot. But why?

They saw René's silhouette standing in front of them. No, not René. The lucidity in his eyes told them that this person was Papa.

"What do you want?" hissed Chapo-Sapo.

"My daughter... I want to see my daughter."

Chapo-Sapo couldn't refuse him. In any case, if their wrist was shaking, it was because she was already there. Because she was fighting with them for control. Because the sight of René — or rather, Papa — had roused her from her slumber. They closed their eyes, bowing to her whim.

When they opened them again, they were no longer themselves, they were her.

"Papa..." she called, her voice weak.

"Esther... Don't do it. Do not do it."

"If I don't do it..."

"What will happen if you do it, sweet child?" interrupted Papa, frowning. "Are you thinking about the consequences?"

"I thought I shouldn't be afraid of them."

"Not being afraid of them and not being aware of them are two different things," replied the man, approaching her. "Listen. What happened when you killed me? Aren't you miserable?"

She bit the inside of her cheek. Papa looked away.

"I don't blame you, you know." He added.

"You're only saying that because you're inside my head."

"It's precisely because I'm inside your head that I know you didn't really mean it, deep down. That you were... a victim of circumstances."

She frowned.

"I know you don't like that term. That you tell yourself we always have some responsibility. That you could have chosen not to kill me. But let me ask you this, Esther. What did you give up?"

"Ballet."

"Because it was imposed on you at first. What did you start and then give up, Esther?"

She remained silent.

"I've always told you that you were... stubborn. And I don't think I'm the only one." He moved closer again, placing a hand on the gun.

If she fired, she would hit him in the ribs. She looked up at him and saw blood running down his face from a gaping wound. The bullet she had fired, no doubt. Was she asking her to do it again? To fire the shot?

"If I shoot... I won't be able to go back."

"No, Esther. If you shoot, you'll cross the limit."

"The limit..."

"You know, beyond stubborn, I think you're something much worse. You're... resentful. And is that a good thing?"

"Definitely not."

"All those who were mean to you... Did you go after them?"

She shook her head.

"All those you didn't get along with... Did you want to kill them?"

She shook her head.

"Why do you kill, Esther? I'll tell you why. Because you think it's the right thing to do. But you and I know better. We've never been able to define what's right or wrong."

"That's true," she said sadly.

"And what do we do when we don't know what to do in a situation? When it eats away at us until there's nothing left but hatred and apathy?"

She felt Papa pressing down on the gun.

"What do we do when we become the monster in someone else's story?"

She exhaled slowly.

"We let go..." she whispered.

Papa gently accompanied her movement as she lowered her arm, letting the gun slip through her fingers and fall into a puddle on the floor. He just smiled at her as she also fell to the floor, forward, onto her chest, then her head. She was already elsewhere; the fall had done her no harm.

"I'm so proud of you..."

"Lunge?" Grimmer called out, seeing the man struggling to stay awake from his injuries, approaching him to help him sit up.

"Ah... You came..."

"Of course I came, come on..." Grimmer looked around anxiously, seeing no sign of Esther on the horizon.

It was certainly reassuring to know that Lunge was okay and that the expedition hadn't been a complete massacre, but he couldn't shake the bad feeling that was stirring inside him. After all, Lunge was in pretty bad shape, so he couldn't imagine what Esther must be like.

"What happened?" Grimmer dared to ask, although he knew immediately that he wouldn't like the answer.

"We were looking for Alice, that's all. We ran into some of her... friends, shall we say, who were a little rough on us. I was thrown out of a window, personally." Lunge informed him in a monotone voice that would have been ridiculous in any other context, but only added fuel to the fire of Grimmer's anxiety.

He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself, focusing instead on the bloodied bodies littering the streets. He didn't recognise any familiar faces, which was probably a good thing.

"That's the work of our friend Bruno. He's become a real fury..."

Grimmer clenched his jaw. The blood was diluting in the water, but the smell remained nauseating. He refrained from commenting to Lunge. He had to make sure Esther was okay first. Once he had an answer to that question, he could say whatever he wanted.

Then he spotted Bruno's silhouette at the foot of a building. Grimmer's eyes widened slightly when he saw that the man was in the recovery position. He approached him first, assessing the damage. Bruises, foam on his lips, eyes glazed over...

Lunge let out a scream. A sound Grimmer never thought he would hear from the man. Following his gaze, he then saw a figure further away, draped in long black hair. Surely, it couldn't be...

It was. He had approached her without really knowing how or when. He didn't care that he had left Lunge to his fate. He reached out to touch her, then changed his mind when he saw the scarlet pool beneath her body, growing visibly, his fingers touching nothing, left mid-air. He felt like vomiting. His fingers trembled, as if repelled by a force that was invisible even to him. His lips parted in a scream that never made it to his mouth, static dancing behind his eyes, and he replayed over and over everything he could have, should have said to stop her from...

A movement caught his eye. He looked up and saw Christof standing there, holding Esther's cane in his hand. Grimmer slowly straightened up, and his mind shut down. He couldn't see the young man's face, but he felt the familiar sensation of bones breaking under his blows, of tortured pleas, surely, he could no longer make out the words that reached his ears, hearing only the rain and his own racing pulse. No, he could only see Esther's body lying on the dirty, cold asphalt, no matter where his gaze landed.

Something held him back, but he didn't want to stop. He thought he heard something about killing, and yes, maybe that was what he was trying to do. When he no longer felt any resistance beneath him, he turned towards whatever was holding him back, whatever it was. He also poured out the fervour that was churning his stomach, the despair that was devouring his lungs, the misery that was consuming him. And then, finally, nothing.

Silence. Just him and Esther's body.

Grimmer went back to her, hesitated, turned her onto her back, unable to see her face, bloodied, deep wounds that would not disappear before... He sat down on the floor and sniffed, finally feeling the fatigue in his own body. He held her in his fingers, which had begun to turn blue. He held her close, rocking her gently. He kissed her forehead, murmuring a few apologies between tears he didn't think he deserved to shed.

In the distance, help was beginning to arrive, searching the village from top to bottom for the nightmare scene that had been described to them.

Chapter Text

Zahra didn't even dare breathe as she waited in the corridor. She had been informed that Bruno had been the unfortunate victim of a road accident—apparently hit by a car. He had first been treated in an emergency room at a facility near Ruhenheim, in another village just as unknown but at least equipped with a functioning hospital, and then transferred once his life was no longer in immediate danger. However, he had to undergo a second operation, and visits were refused for another two days. So Zahra was waiting for the green light to see her brother, who was apparently still unconscious.

Tenma was also waiting alongside his partner. He stood a little apart, mainly because Zahra was pacing back and forth, like a caged animal. For his part, he had focused his attention on Pablo, who, despite his condition, also seemed tense, albeit to a lesser extent. Tenma could recognise the signs of anxiety in his eyes, which were staring into space—if the sweat beading on his forehead and the tense lines on his face weren't demonstrative enough. Pablo's hand was clammy in his. There was no doubt that, although the man couldn't show any reaction, he too was aware of what was happening. Tenma thought he had heard him mutter his younger brother's name as the doctor drove urgently to the hospital after receiving the call, sensing that Zahra would be too agitated to do so herself.

He too was nervous, if he was honest. He was used to being the one working within these walls, but now that he was waiting in the sterile corridor, he understood better the apprehension of patients' families. He had lived alone for so long... He had never really felt the pressure of waiting. Perhaps for Inspector Suk, when he had gone to Prague the previous year...

But this time, it was different. The stress was contagious, of course.

Bruno seemed to be fast asleep when Zahra was finally allowed to enter. Since visits were limited to two people, Tenma decided to wait a little longer outside, relieved at least to see Zahra's face light up as she pushed Pablo into the room. The woman leaned over her brother's motionless body, observing what had changed. Numerous signs of a struggle covered by bandages, in fact, and many nasty bruises that had turned yellow with time. At least he seemed peaceful, silent. His face was relaxed. A nurse informed her that Bruno had been given numerous painkillers as soon as he woke up, as he had been in great pain, and that the medical team had decided to give him sedatives so that he could rest. Zahra appreciated the nurse's honesty, and he left the room after a polite nod.

She led Pablo to their brother's bedside and sat down near the chair herself. Looking at Bruno's calm features, Zahra thought to herself that it could have been much worse. He could have been dead, technically, alone, on the icy streets, just another body in the massacre. She had heard that many of the individuals found were in critical condition, and that some had injuries too severe to be treated by first aid administered several hours after their admission to the hospital, which could not protect them from possible infections, and for some, death. Zahra suspected that the source of this care was surely Esther, who was the only one with any kind of knowledge in the medical field. But she did not understand Esther's motivation.

Zahra had learned from Nathaniel, whom she had met a few hours earlier—the poor boy could barely stand—that Esther was not in the best of health either and that, unlike Bruno, as she had just understood from the nurse, she had never woken up since her transfer. She had remained completely lethargic throughout the journey, and even before that, in the small village hospital, which was understaffed and lacking in equipment. They thought she was dead before recognising a very weak but still present heartbeat. In any case, Zahra was well aware that Esther must have been in very bad shape if she wasn't fighting even a little against the medication and the pain, she who had woken up many times, according to Tenma's account, which he had heard from Grimmer, while she was on morphine in the hospital when she injured her leg.

This did not help Zahra, who had the unfortunate impression that Esther probably did not want to wake up. And Zahra wanted the medical examiner to finally open her eyes, on the one hand to shake her violently for the recklessness of her actions, but also to hug her, driven by fear. When Grimmer had come to tell her that he was leaving for Ruhenheim—and he had even said “the village where Alice died”—she had felt her stomach turn to lead, and even more so when Grimmer confirmed that Bruno had also gone there. All her doubts about Alice's death had brutally resurfaced, and now that she saw the state of those who had left, she told herself that Bruno had never really been wrong. That, for once, he had been right to be suspicious.

"…Bruno…"

Zahra turned her eyes to Pablo, and her expression softened. She stood up to bring Pablo closer to the convalescent's bed and placed the elder's hand in the younger's. The man's eyes lit up for a brief moment. Bruno's hand, on the other hand, remained static, and he did not move an inch. Zahra took a deep breath and pushed her hair behind her ear. What a nightmare...

Nathaniel didn't know which way to turn. In fact, he was just pacing around the hospital, whispering into his phone, answering dozens of calls from different people he couldn't calm down. He knew the building by heart by now. First, he had to reassure Denise, who was screaming into the phone, reciting long verses and begging God to let her keep her daughter a little longer, that she couldn't bear to lose her child. Then he took it upon himself to assure Hilda that he was fine, that he was holding up—even though he hadn't been able to swallow more than a bite of bread since his sister was admitted to the hospital in Düsseldorf. Finally, he tried to calm Nina down, who had heard the news from Tenma. The young woman seemed distraught and wanted to visit as soon as possible. Nathaniel tried to dissuade her, but she whispered a brief apology and hung up.

Nathaniel had not exchanged a single word with Lunge, whom he sometimes encountered while walking around the facility, nor with Grimmer, whom he had not seen since the emergency services had taken the merry band of misfits to the hospital. Although he had chosen not to talk to the former—he partly blamed him for Esther's departure for Ruhenheim—he would at least have liked to thank the latter, who had come all this way to make sure his sister was okay, whereas he... He wouldn't have been able to do that.

"Good evening," a voice greeted him, and Nathaniel looked up to see a young man about his age, his arm in a cast and his face scarred all over, having surely undergone operations to minimise the damage.

"Good evening," Nathaniel replied, though clearly uninterested. "Do I know you?"

"No, sorry, we've never been formally introduced. Christof Sievernich." He held out his good hand to Nathaniel, who shook it with a hint of caution. "I was in Ruhenheim at the same time as your sister, actually. I have a lot to do with this story, too. Would you like me to explain what happened there?"

Nathaniel remained cautious, but nodded nonetheless. He kept a suspicious eye on Christof as they walked together through the corridors. And when Christof explained the situation to him, he began to feel nauseous. Nathaniel was able to connect the events Christof described with the injuries he had found on Esther's motionless body, which was bandaged all over. He still remembered her face covered in gauze, and he told himself that Christof's story, in which Alice had scratched Esther's face with her nails, was surely reliable. Yet he had a nagging sense of mistrust. He couldn't help it.

"Where's Grimmer, then?" Nathaniel dared to ask, raising an eyebrow.

Christof grimaced—at least, as much as he could with his nose still being repaired, it seemed—and sighed. "I haven't seen him since our wounds were treated. He was also admitted to the hospital for wear and tear on his phalanges. They were torn, I think."

"Oh wow, when he hit you and Lunge, he wasn't pretending..." Nathaniel whistled admiringly, earning himself a dark look.

"Of course, it might be impressive, or even admirable from the outside... But it was terrifying. I thought he was going to kill me," Christof muttered.

"And would he have been wrong to do so?" Nathaniel argued. "From his point of view, you had hurt Esther. Perhaps even killed her."

"Yes, but still... Such a reaction for just his friend..."

"They're not just friends," Nathaniel replied simply, allowing a silence heavy with innuendo to settle.

"Oh..." Christof turned to Nathaniel, as if trying to piece it together himself. And when the answer came to him as obvious, he raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yes. Really."

"I didn't think either of them was capable of..." Christof left his sentence hanging.

"Neither did I... I mean, now that I think about it..." Nathaniel murmured, before clearing his throat. "It's not really his style to disappear without a word, so I'll call him."

Christof didn't dare ask any more questions. Mainly because Nathaniel didn't seem quite himself anymore. Or maybe he had always been like this, and they just didn't know each other well enough. Still, Christof was almost certain that the emptiness in his eyes was due to a flame that had recently been extinguished.

Nina didn't know where to stand, at Esther's bedside, who seemed completely motionless. Her face was not visible, wrapped in gauze bandages, and Nina could only imagine the damage she had suffered. She had had to fight to get here, first because Reichwein didn't want her to be confronted with this sight, and then because of her own doubts when she heard from Tenma that Esther had been unconscious for a total of five days now. In reality, she was really afraid to see her friend in this condition. In the end, now that she was there, it wasn't as horrific as she had imagined—mainly because everything was hidden, of course.

And that was probably for the best, because the sight of the injuries would probably have traumatised Dieter, who was tapping Esther's hand with his fingertips, hoping for a reaction. He too had fought to come. With Reichwein, with Tenma, and even with Nina. No one wanted him to come. But he had insisted, until the old man finally gave in. Of course, Reichwein had first made sure that Esther was presentable, accompanied by Lunge, before letting Nina and the little boy in.

"When do you think she'll wake up?" Dieter asked, looking up at Nina.

"I don't know, Dieter..." Nina murmured, her hands clasped together in her lap as she eventually sat down. She didn't know where to look. Her eyes were irresistibly drawn to Esther's presence. Silent. Well, more so than usual.

"Tenma said it might take a little over a week. She hit her head several times, so..." Dieter sighed, then stopped patting Esther's hand and stood next to Nina to hug her. "I'm sure she'll be fine. It's not the first time this kind of thing has happened. She'll pull through."

"Yes, I know... But this time it's different, don't you think? There's something... different." Nina paused. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't..."

"...talk to me about it? If it makes you feel better, then I think you should tell me everything," Dieter argued. "I can understand, after all. Maybe not everything, it's true, but still a little. Enough to be able to help you."

Nina gave him a small, contrite smile. "No, really, Dieter, it's..." She stopped when she saw Dieter's pout, and let out a small laugh. "Sorry, it's just that I'm not sure. I'm afraid of what happened over there. Grimmer didn't want to tell Tenma anything, at least nothing we couldn't guess for ourselves from their injuries. Lunge is keeping quiet too, since a case is going to be opened for some reason. We don't know “Christof” that well, and he just talked to Nathaniel, which makes sense since he's Esther's brother, but..." Nina paused, frowning. "Everything is so unclear. And, knowing Esther, it must not have been fun. Something horrible happened there. There were deaths, twice as many injured people..."

Dieter took Nina back into his arms. "True, but everything worked out in the end, didn't it?"

"Really?" Nina raised her eyebrows. "How can you say that, really? When will it all stop? When will the ones we love..."

"I have a good feeling about this," Dieter interjected with a reassuring smile. "Everything will work out. I'm sure of it."

Denise was now camped out at Esther's bedside, and although he found it frustrating because he wanted to have a few moments alone with his sister from time to time, Nathaniel no longer had the strength to protest. He had lost consciousness earlier that day due to his prolonged fast, his stomach churning, begging for even the slightest amount of food, but did not want to leave Esther's room.

"My daughter... My sweet little girl..."

Normally, he might have been touched, comforted, reassured to see the relationship between his mother and sister improving, but he just felt irritated. Tired, above all. He couldn't sleep a wink all night, he hated it when 10 p.m. rolled around, when visiting hours were officially over and he had to leave Esther in that room that made him want to vomit. Nathaniel rubbed his face with both hands, hoping to feel it again, as he could no longer feel his fingers or his legs, only a pain that twisted his stomach. Perhaps he should eat something. He wouldn't be effective if he passed out again.

Nathaniel went to order a coffee with three sugars, to raise his “blood sugar” as his sister would say, and spotted Lunge a few seats away from his—he didn't want to talk to him, of course—in the cafeteria. The man seemed distracted. Disturbed, and that was putting it mildly. Nathaniel tried to ignore him. It only lasted a few seconds before he sighed and approached the former inspector. His kindness would be his undoing. His mother often told him so.

"Hello," Nathaniel said simply, drawing Lunge's surprised gaze, who immediately looked away.

"I didn't expect you to come and talk to me..." Lunge admitted.

"I wasn't planning to, to be honest. But now that I'm here..." Nathaniel ran his hand over his face again, trying to compose himself once more. "What's wrong with you?"

Lunge sat up slightly, clearing his throat. "I wanted to apologise."

There was a pause. Nathaniel almost choked on his sip of coffee, feeling the liquid burn his tongue. He turned his eyes to Lunge, who was already looking away, his gaze unfocused.

"It's all my fault," Lunge continued. "Whether it's Bruno, Grimmer, or even Esther... I'm the one who encouraged them to come, more or less directly. I pushed your sister into her paranoid ideas. I pushed your sister to come to that god-forsaken town even though she was starting to have doubts."

Nathaniel remained silent.

"So I take full responsibility for everything that happened. I haven't told Grimmer yet, even though I don't think it would change his... decision much, but I think you should know before he does." Lunge then took a handkerchief out of his pocket, which was clearly wrapped around something, and opened it, revealing the Smith & Wesson, which took Nathaniel a few moments to recognise. "She didn't fire a single shot. The only shot was aimed at her. Even though she met Alice... She didn't fire."

Nathaniel couldn't bring himself to speak. He brought the coffee to his mouth again, swallowing it in one gulp, and this time he welcomed the burning sensation in his oesophagus because it brought him back to himself, even if only with difficulty.

"I'm not asking you to forgive me," added Lunge. "I know that's impossible, given the harm I've done to someone dear to you."

"If Esther forgives you..." whispered Nathaniel in a voice he didn't recognise."I forgive you too."

There was a brief moment of weakness in Lunge's solemn mask, when his expression softened considerably. Nathaniel made no comment, simply getting up and throwing the cup into a nearby bin. If he was honest, he didn't care what happened right now.

All he wanted was for Esther to wake up.

"You promised me you'd make an effort with... all this." Lunge looked up at Nathaniel again, narrowing his eyes. "Not to rely on your sister for..."

"In this case, it's her you hurt, isn't it? So it's mainly up to her to forgive you. At least, I think that's how it works..."

"No. You're part of her family, so it's normal that you might resent me too." Lunge paused for a moment. "You're doing what she's done so far. You're letting yourself be influenced by her judgement."

Nathaniel frowned slightly, annoyed. "Look, with all due respect, you're in no position to give moral lessons."

"Right. Of course." Lunge sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, his expression closing again, returning to that constantly focused look.

"Grimmer didn't pretend to hit you either," Nathaniel remarked, raising his eyebrows at the sight of the numerous bandages covering the man's body.

"And yet, I got off pretty lightly. He took most of his anger out on Mr Sievernich. I don't have any broken bones, personally."

Nathaniel turned away. "Unfortunately," he hissed, more to himself than to anyone else, as he walked away.

Walking back to Esther's room, he gave a small reassuring smile to Tenma, who was waiting outside Bruno's room, a smile that quickly disappeared once his back was turned, his face falling into an exhausted expression. He opened the door to see his mother praying again, as if it would change anything. He sat down again at Esther's bedside Esther's bedside, intertwining his fingers with her cold hand—the doctors had claimed that this was simply a female trait, that women more often had colder extremities, as soon as they saw that Nathaniel was turning pale—and he looked at his sister in silence, his face supported by his clenched fist, resting on the bedside table.

On the table were flowers. Brought by Nina and Dieter. White lilies. Nathaniel wanted to spit in their faces and shout at them never to come back, but he didn't. Perhaps they didn't know that white lilies were the flower of mourning.

Grimmer stared intently at the weapon in his bruised hands. Nothing was broken, thankfully, but he had more important things to do for now. The barrel was full, and there were no signs of powder around or in the muzzle of the pistol that could indicate that Esther had indeed fired it, even though Alice was there. No one had seen anything. No one had seen the look on Esther's face—which must have been heavily injured by then, if he believed Christof's account—when she finally gave up on killing Alice.

He had to admit that it had been a while since he had felt such intense anger as when he saw Esther's body lying there. Or had he felt it before? He wasn't entirely sure. It was something new, this burning sensation just behind his eyes, this almost acidic taste on his tongue, and then his hands had started to shake, and his body had acted before he could even protest. It wasn't just anger, after all. He had been so afraid, too. When he saw her, he was momentarily convinced that she was dead, and of course, he immediately came to the conclusion that it was all his fault. That he was the one who had let her go. That he had killed her by doing nothing. Because he knew she would go. That nothing could dissuade her from that goal.

But then why? Why hadn't she fired? This news should have made him happy, and yet he couldn't feel it. On the contrary, this situation, still so unclear until he could get Bruno and Esther's testimonies, bothered him. Grimmer didn't dare suggest that perhaps what he had said to her had made an impression on her, but he was almost certain that something had happened, that she would not be quite the same when she woke up, and that thought terrified him, on the one hand. Because if he didn't get back the Esther he had lost during their argument, it would be as if, in a sense, he had really killed her, right?

Esther's blood wouldn't wash off, no matter how many times he washed his hands. He couldn't leave a bathroom without repeating the process at least fourteen times, and he went there as soon as he saw one, the sticky feeling between his fingers too unbearable. He didn't really sleep at night anymore. Because he had seen Esther's face, frozen in an expression he couldn't describe because it was so distorted, and the scarlet spread across her features didn't make it any easier. He could discern pain, above all, and he had no doubt that she was suffering, even in her unconscious state, her eyes half open. One of them was very red, probably a blood vessel that had burst when she hit her head. He could still taste the metallic aftertaste on his tongue from when he had kissed her forehead, and in his throat the rasp of the scream he had let out when Esther had been taken from him. He had been told to calm down, but he couldn't, held down, held back, by hands that belong to faceless silhouettes.

It was him, it was his fault.

Grimmer hadn't been able to see Esther since they had all been admitted to the hospital in Düsseldorf. Worse still, he had managed to avoid being admitted himself because he considered his injuries to be minor. So he hadn't set foot in the hospital at all. He couldn't. He wouldn't allow himself to be so close to her after having abandoned her so cowardly. She needed help, and he had taken it away from her at the most crucial moment. That was why he met Lunge outside, about a kilometre away, to make sure he wouldn't run into anyone. When the revolver was handed to him, Lunge had merely smiled sadly. Grimmer didn't know what to make of it, how to interpret it. He had never seen Lunge like this ever before.

He needed to find a bathroom, and fast.

The weapon resting on the edge of the sink taunted him as, before his eyes and for his eyes alone, the cold water turned red at the touch of his hands. He stood there for a good twenty minutes, rubbing his hands until they became irritated, but what else could he do? How could he get rid of the indelible traces, the memory of that face, in pain? All he could do was desperately try to hide his cowardice by hiding the blood, which he could have prevented from being spilled.

He felt nauseous. He swallowed the acid bile that coated his tongue. He had given up wearing the gauze bandages that should have wrapped his fingers, thinking that they would end up disappearing under the water anyway. He turned his eyes to the weapon, intact, untouched, inactive despite the anger its owner had always shown. The hatred and desire for revenge that had suddenly evaporated like snow in the sun. He didn't understand. He no longer understood. Had he ever understood?

Grimmer picked up the revolver, weighing it in his hand, as if touching it would allow him to understand what Esther had been thinking at that moment. Was there anything in the world that could have shaken her determination?

Why did Esther want to kill Alice in the first place?

The desire to keep Nathaniel safe was a major motivation, but he doubted that she thought Alice would leave her brother alone, so there was something else, but that something remained beyond his grasp. He couldn't imagine any other excuse that would have made Esther give in, abandoning her fierce determination.

Then another idea dawned on him. Esther had often said that Alice had ruined her—which, in reality, was not far from the truth, if he could say so himself. She had always considered this sentiment selfish, preferring to tell herself that she was confronting Alice to protect her brother. Now that he thought about it, Grimmer believed that this explanation was more likely to make her give up. Namely, that Esther had forgiven Alice, which seemed ridiculous to him, or simply that she told herself that there was nothing she could really do about it now, which was much more in keeping with Esther's pessimistic nature, as she had convinced herself that she was a bad person.

Yes, it must have been something along those lines. Esther had thought herself beyond redemption, had told herself that nothing she could do, including the murder of Alice, could pull her out of the misery she had plunged herself into. And although he hated this self-denigration, he had to admit that it had saved Esther greatly, which he was insanely thankful for. If it had allowed her to come back to her senses, then Grimmer could only agree, for once, with the thing, whatever it was.

He put down the revolver and took a deep breath. Well... It was time to go...

Grimmer entered Esther's room and was surprised to find no one there. He had expected to see at least Nathaniel at his sister's bedside, but no, there was no one there, nor in the hallway. He approached the bed, immersed in the semi-darkness of the room, distinguishing the resting body only as a shadow silhouetted against the dim light, projected onto the white walls. Perhaps visiting hours were officially over? Perhaps he had come a little too late? Probably not, as the receptionist at the front desk had given him the room number without comment.

He took a few more steps forward, stopping just two metres away. He could now see Esther, or at least what the bandages would allow him to see, which was not much. Most of her face was wrapped in thick gauze, and the rest of her body, sometimes bandaged, revealed numerous bruises that were beginning to turn yellow due to the recovery time. He cleared his throat, feeling a little uncomfortable, before stepping forward again.

Grimmer reached out his hand, with the clear intention of taking hers, but he could see his own fingers trembling and his vision blurring. He had to take several deep breaths before he could take her hand, which showed no resistance, no strength, just a dangling arm that would fall if he let go. He intertwined their fingers and pressed a kiss on her knuckles. She showed no reaction. The opposite would have surprised him.

"I'm sorry..." he simply murmured.

He doubted she had heard him, but the silence was comforting, in a new way. All he could hear was Esther's calm breathing, which at least assured him that she was in a stable condition and no longer needed an oxygen mask. He kissed her knuckles again. Once. Twice. More than he could count. The metallic taste came back on his tongue. The warm blood slipped between his fingers and hers. And between each kiss, he uttered those few words that could not change anything, but which would have undoubtedly reassured her in the delirious fog of her thoughts.

"I love you, Esther... I love you so much..."