Kal'tsit continued to harbor deep-seated doubts regarding this monolithic Soviet system.
To be precise, her curiosity was fixed upon the architect of this apparatus: Vladimir Park.
'Is this man named Vladimir the same individual I once knew, or truly an ideologue harboring his own idiosyncratic visions? Or perhaps, is he merely a charlatan deceiving the masses?'
She kept this inquiry etched into the depths of her mind.
From the distant horizons of her memory—long before the epoch most of Terra could recall, spanning tens of thousands of years—she remembered the one who existed alongside the Doctor, the man who had bestowed upon her the name 'Kal'tsit.'
The Overseer.
Suddenly, his silhouette overlapped with the frostbitten landscape of Birmingham.
'In this Republic, draped in the hollow ornaments of Communism while it grinds under the weight of its own inefficiency—what is it you seek?'
The surname Park (朴).
She was aware that this name did not originate from the Yan Empire or the Far East; it was a lineage found only in the isolationist nation of Dankook.
However, it had been forty years since the Regent of Dankook had sealed the nation's borders, allowing trade only through specialized maritime zones. In this climate of isolationism, the notion of a man named Park rising to such prominence as a statesman was statistically improbable.
The probability was infinitesimally thin.
Thus, Kal'tsit was forced into a spiral of deeper confusion.
'Why?'
'That person' would never employ such methods.
Moreover, there was no reason for him to emerge before the timer's designated hour. The man she knew was a pragmatic extremist, a skeptic, and a total misanthrope.
Such a man would not abandon the Sarcophagus based on a mere whim of probability.
Furthermore... his name was not Vladimir.
His real name was—
'Damn it, I cannot remember.'
Yet, she was certain that his name was not Vladimir.
Days of suspicion bled into weeks within the field hospital. Time marched on, the Battle of Birmingham concluded, and the Soviet Union emerged as the triumphant vanguard of the revolution.
It was shortly after the declaration of the Central People’s Committee and the ratification of the Constitution.
Kal'tsit received a copy of the newly printed Constitution, distributed for free at the district office's civil service counter.
The Constitution of the Union of Terra Soviet Socialist Republics.
In the center of the cover sat a seal embroidered with a hammer, a flag, and stalks of grain. Below it, printed in bold typeface, was the creed:
[All Power Derives from the People.]
Kal'tsit flipped to the first page, murmuring under her breath.
"...A familiar packaging."
The further she turned the pages, the colder her eyes became.
This was merely a document. The declarations and principles inscribed within were but the paper husks of a conviction adorned with rhetorical flourishes.
Kal'tsit gazed out the window and reflected.
'The person who crafted this document cannot be the one I knew.'
He did not speak such beautiful words. He was the type of man who, rather than wrapping his thoughts in a decorative shell, would drag them through the mire and present them in their raw, ugly truth.
He was the one who spat vitriol at idealists, hounding them until they teetered on the edge of the abyss.
Every facet of her reason signaled that Vladimir was not 'The Overseer.'
And yet...
Something primitive, a sensation akin to raw intuition, clung to her doubts with a desperate grip.
Eventually, the day came when he visited the field hospital.
And there...
She stood face-to-face with the countenance she had buried in the far reaches of her memory.
When he looked at her, the corners of his lips quirked into a smile.
Though he possessed dark circles under his eyes and a black beard—not quite the appearance she remembered—she was suddenly certain.
Vladimir Park was, without a doubt, the man.
********************************************
"...Therefore, for your dedication to Socialism and the people, and for your contributions to the advancement of public health and medicine, I hereby bestow upon you the Medal of the Hero of Socialist Labour."
Under the scorching intensity of Kal'tsit’s gaze, my brief speech finally concluded. I began to pin the medals upon each individual, one by one.
Feline, Cautus, Liberi, Caprini, Forte.
These doctors and nurses, representing a multitude of races, shed tears—whether from joy or overwhelming emotion, I could not tell—as I pinned the honors to their chests. I offered them each a firm pat on the shoulder.
Except for one person.
"Comrade Chairman."
It was Kal'tsit.
As I stepped slowly toward her, reaching out to pin the medal to her white coat, she spoke.
Her voice was chillingly frigid.
"To what do I owe the honor?"
I spoke, desperately feigning ignorance. Her mood looked abysmal, and the last thing I wanted was to agitate her. The thought that Mon3tr might burst from her spine and sever my head at any moment kept me cautious.
I forced a smile as I responded.
"Is it possible for us to speak in private for a moment later?" she asked.
...Oh, for the love of—
Doctor Kal'tsit. Why are you doing this to me?!
I haven’t done anything to her or Theresia yet! I haven't even received any news regarding Kazdel lately.
So why is she here? Did she travel to this city, infiltrate our ranks, build up a professional record at the field hospital, and then come out just to receive a medal? This has the stench of espionage written all over it.
Is she trying to eliminate a perceived threat before I lead a coalition to invade Kazdel? My brain raced; it was a highly plausible hypothesis.
So if I go to that private meeting, is she going to take my head? Is that how it works? Didn't that red-haired masked Reunion leader—Lyudmila, was it? Crownslayer?—almost get crushed for testing her?
Suppressing the cold sweat on my brow, I put on my best performance, keeping my tone as light and cheerful as possible.
"Haha, I would like nothing more, but my schedule for today is quite packed... I’m afraid I must be on my way. If you’ll excuse—"
It was then.
"Comrade Chairman! You have no further scheduled events today! You should head to the residence and get some rest!"
The words 'You idiot' almost escaped my lips.
If this had been Archibald, he would have read the room and shut his mouth. Who the hell is this guy? Don't you see I'm about to die here?!
I forced my rigid expression into a wide, painful grin. In that instant, Kal'tsit's eyes drifted toward me.
It was a gaze that suggested that if justice existed in this world, I was the primary reason for its disappearance.
"Ah, it seems I made a mistake in my planning..."
But Kal'tsit's face was already set. Her look was lethal, as if she were prepared to murder me on the spot.
God, Jesus, Buddha, Allah, Hanulnim, Confucius, Guan Yu, Marx, Engels, Lenin, Proudhon, Bakunin!
Please! Just let me live!
"V-Very well. Shall we talk in that room over there?"
With the resolve of a beast stepping into a slaughterhouse, I walked toward my potential doom.
************************************************
- Creeeak -
I swallowed hard.
I’m committed now. I have to bluff my way through this.
Just as I was mentally preparing my defense—
- Thud -
The moment the door closed, the air in the room plummeted to freezing. My resolve vanished into thin air. Kal'tsit sat down silently, and I tentatively took the seat across from her. The silence was so thick the groan of the chair felt like a scream.
“So... what was it you wanted to discuss?”
I forced another smile. Kal'tsit remained motionless, staring. Her gaze was fierce—so intense it felt like green lasers might shoot from her pupils.
"There are several information-wise uncertainties that exist. I am merely conducting a verification process through questioning."
Kal'tsit reached into her bag. What was she reaching for? A syringe full of truth serum? Handcuffs? A muzzle?
I felt cold sweat trailing down my spine. Fortunately, she pulled out a notebook and a pen.
"The name Park. It is a Dankook-lineage surname, correct?"
"Uh... pardon? What did you say...?"
Dankook? What was that?
Wait... ah, I remember now. That nation situated between Higashi and Yan? Why the hell was she asking about that?
"No. It is not," I answered truthfully.
Kal'tsit’s expression hardened even further. Why?!
As I sat there drowning in confusion, she changed the question.
"Where are you from?"
The words '21st Century Seoul, Republic of Korea' were certainly not coming out. I’m no fool; besides, Kal'tsit wouldn't know what that meant. So, I gave the only logical answer.
"Ursus, of course."
Kal'tsit’s face shifted into an expression of utter disbelief. Look, I’m trying to cooperate here! Why do you keep looking at me like that?
She pivoted her line of questioning again.
"The Prophet, the Priestess, the Overseer. Do you recognize any of these names?"
Prophet, Priestess, Overseer? What is this nerd-talk?
"I recognize none of them."
"Truly?"
"Truly."
Kal'tsit scowled. I blinked back at her, trying to look innocent. Then, without warning, she lunged and grabbed me by the collar.
"Urgh! Gak!"
"Do you really think I cannot tell when you are lying?"
"No, seriously, I have no idea what you're talking about! Calm down, please!"
I threw up my hands in surrender. Talking while being throttled is incredibly difficult; I felt like I was about to choke on my own saliva. After staring daggers at me for what felt like an eternity, she finally let go.
"...."
"Cough! Cough! Hack!"
I adjusted my seat and rubbed my throat. It stung. I really thought I was a goner. Kal'tsit returned to her seat and spoke softly, her head bowed.
"So... you truly are not that man?"
"I’m telling you, who is this 'man'?! Who exactly is he that you’re trying to check by strangling me to death?"
She didn't answer me. She simply continued her monologue.
"...If it were him... he would have crafted a more sophisticated lie. He wouldn't be this visibly panicked."
"...Excuse me. Who is this person? If I'm being misunderstood, wouldn't it be better for everyone if you just told me?"
Kal'tsit looked up. Her eyes were still full of suspicion.
"No... you have no need to know at this time."
Suddenly, she’s back to using Kal'tsit-speak. Since she decided I'm not 'The Overseer,' she’s returned to her formal tone, but what was that even about?
"I apologize for my physical aggression regarding your neck," she said, bowing her head in apology.
Well... getting an apology from a favorite character feels somewhat okay, even if the 'almost dying' part was trash. I should probably play nice for the sake of Oripathy treatment, right? We need to cooperate with Rhodes Island eventually, and I shouldn't burn bridges with Theresia either.
Time to act like a big man.
"Hey, don't worry about it. Misunderstandings happen, right?"
I forced a smile and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Besides, I spent a long time in the underground; I've almost lost my life more times than I can count, so it wasn't that shocking. We're going to be seeing a lot of each other soon, anyway. We need the help of Doctor Kal'tsit of Babel if we're going to treat the Infected."
I offered her my hand for a handshake. Kal'tsit paused, then replied.
"...I apologize, but what is Babel?"
Uh....
Wait, why is she reacting like that?
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