Kal'tsit continued to scrutinize this burgeoning Soviet apparatus with deep-seated skepticism.
To be precise, her curiosity was fixed upon the architect of this system—Vladimir Park.
'Is this Vladimir the same individual I once knew, or truly an idealist harboriing his own unique ideology? Or perhaps, he is a charlatan weaving a grand deception for the masses?'
The question remained etched into the core of her mind.
A memory from the farthest reaches of her consciousness—a time so distant that nearly no soul in Terra remained to recall it.
A figure remembered alongside the Doctor, the one who had bestowed the name Kal'tsit upon her tens of thousands of years ago.
The Overseer.
His visage suddenly flickered within her mind, superimposing itself over the industrial ruins of Birmingham.
'In this Republic, which masks its rotting, inefficient frame with the aesthetic of Communism... what is it that you truly seek?'
The surname Park.
She was well aware that this name did not originate from Yan or the Higashi. It was a name endemic only to the nation of Dankook.
However, it had been forty years since the Regent of Dankook had sealed the nation's borders, permitting trade only through isolated special maritime zones. In such a hermetic era, for a man bearing the name Park to emerge as a prominent figure in the heart of Victoria was an absurdity.
A statistical anomaly of the highest order.
Thus, Kal'tsit was plunged into a deeper quagmire of confusion.
'But why?'
If he were that person, he would never resort to such methods.
Furthermore, it was impossible for him to have emerged earlier than the countdown dictated by the timers.
The man she remembered was a radical realist—a skeptic and a misanthrope through and through.
A man of such cold temperament would never have crawled out of that sarcophagus based on a mere whim of probability.
And... his name had not been Vladimir.
His name was...
'Damnation, it escapes me.'
Yet, she remembered with absolute certainty that his name was not Vladimir.
As these days of interrogation-filled thoughts passed within the confines of the field hospital, time marched on. The Battle of Birmingham concluded, and the Soviet Union emerged as the sovereign victor of the revolution.
Not long after the Central People's Committee was established and the Constitution proclaimed.
Kal'tsit accepted a copy of the new Constitution, distributed free of charge at a civil service window in the district office.
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, uncompromising typeface, was the creed:
[All Power Derives from the People.]
Kal'tsit murmured quietly as she turned the first page.
"...A familiar veneer."
The further she read, the colder her eyes became.
This was a mere document. The declarations and principles inscribed within were nothing more than a shell of conviction, decorated with flowery rhetoric.
Kal'tsit stared out the window, lost in thought.
'The one who authored this document cannot be the man I knew.'
He never used such beautiful words. He was a man who preferred to strip away the packaging and present the raw, unfiltered mire of reality.
He was the sort to pour vitriol upon idealists, driving them to the very edge of the abyss.
Every ounce of her logic indicated that Vladimir was not 'The Overseer.'
And yet...
Something primal, a flicker of intuition, held fast to her suspicions until the very end.
The day finally arrived when he visited the field hospital.
And there...
She came face-to-face with a countenance she had buried in the depths of her memory.
The corners of his mouth curled into a smile as he looked at her.
The dark circles under his eyes, the black beard—it was not the exact likeness of the man she remembered, but she could be certain of one thing.
Vladimir Park was, indeed, that man.
********************************************
"—For your selfless devotion to socialism and the people, and for your contributions to the advancement of public health and medicine, I hereby bestow upon you the Title of Hero of Socialist Labour."
Under the fierce, predatory gaze of Kal'tsit, my brief speech came to an end. I began pinning medals onto 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 sheer overwhelming emotion, I could not tell—as I personally affixed the medals. I gave each of them a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
Save for one person.
"Comrade Chairman."
It was Kal'tsit.
As I stepped slowly toward her and reached out to pin the medal to her medical coat, she spoke. Her voice was frostbitten and sharp.
"Why have you summoned me?"
I replied, doing my utmost to feign ignorance of her hostility.
Her mood was visibly foul; if I pricked her nerves any further, I half-expected Mon3tr to erupt from her spine and sever my head on the spot.
Forcing a hollow smile, I continued the charade.
"Is it possible to have a private conversation later? Just the two of us?" she asked.
...Oh, for the love of—
Doctor Kal'tsit. Why, in the name of the Prophet, are you doing this to me?!
I haven't even had the chance to do anything to her or Theresia yet. I don't even receive reports from Kazdel!
Why is she even here? Kal'tsit herself sought out this city, infiltrated it without a word, built a career through field medical service, and just happened to show up to receive a medal? That is the definition of a spy.
Is she trying to eliminate a potential threat before I lead the Union's forces into a Kazdel invasion? Given her history, it was a disturbingly plausible hypothesis.
If I actually went to talk to her in private, she'd likely have my head. Was it Lyudmila? That masked Reunion leader? Didn't she nearly die after crossing Kal'tsit?
Suppressing the cold sweat breaking out across my back, I desperatey tried to maintain a cheerful, professional tone.
"Haha, I would like nothing more, but my schedule for today is quite packed... I'm afraid I must move on. Now then—"
Then it happened.
"Comrade Chairman! You have no other appointments today! You should head back to the residence and get some rest!"
The words 'You complete idiot' nearly burst from my throat. If it were Edwards, he would have had the tactical awareness to stay silent. Who the hell was this guy?
Listen, you moron. This is going to get me killed!
I immediately forced my rigid expression into the widest smile I could manage. At that moment, Kal'tsit's eyes slid toward me.
Her gaze seemed to explain exactly why, if justice existed in this world, I ought to be erased from it.
"Ah~, it seems I made a mistake regarding the itinerary."
But Kal'tsit's face was already set like stone. Her eyes were murderous.
God, Jesus, Buddha, Allah, Hanulnim, Confucius, Guan Yu, Marx, Engels, Lenin, Proudhon, Bakunin!
Please! Just let me live!
"V-Very well. Shall we speak in that room over there?"
With the heart of a doomed soldier entering a meat grinder, I walked into the jaws of death.
************************************************
—Creak—
I swallowed hard. There was no turning back now. I had to talk my way out of this or die trying.
Just as I was reinforcing my resolve—
—Thud—
The moment the door slammed shut, the air in the room turned arctic. My determination vanished instantly, as if sucked into a void. Kal'tsit sat down quietly, and I carefully lowered myself into the chair opposite her.
The silence was so heavy that the screech of the chair sounded like a scream.
"So... what did you wish to discuss?" I forced a smile.
Kal'tsit stared at me, unmoving. Her gaze was fierce—unyielding. I felt like green laser beams were about to bore through my skull.
"There are certain informational uncertainties that require a verification process through direct questioning," she stated flatly.
Kal'tsit reached into her bag. What was she going to pull out? A syringe filled with truth serum? Restraints? A gag?
I felt a bead of sweat roll down my spine. Fortunately, what she produced was a simple notebook and a pen.
"Your surname, Park. It is a Dankook name, correct?"
"Uh... I beg your pardon? What was that?"
Dankook? What on Terra was a Dankook?
I scoured the depths of my memory for those two syllables. Ah, that's right. That hermit nation nestled between the Higashi and Yan. Why was she asking about that?
"No. It is not," I answered truthfully.
Kal'tsit's expression hardened further. Why? For what possible reason?
"Where do you come from?"
Naturally, 'Seoul, Republic of Korea, 21st Century' was not an option. I wasn't a complete fool. She wouldn't believe me anyway.
"I am from Ursus," I replied.
Kal'tsit looked at me as if I had just told the most absurd lie in history. I was trying to cooperate! Why the hostility?
She shifted the focus of her interrogation.
"The Prophet. The Priestess. The Overseer. Do any of these titles mean anything to you?"
The Prophet? The Priestess? The Overseer? What kind of lore-dumping nonsense was this?
"None of them," I said.
"Truly?"
"Truly."
Kal'tsit scowled. I could only blink in response.
Suddenly, she lunged across the table and grabbed me by the collar.
"Ack! Argh!!"
"You... do you think I can't recognize a liar when I see one?"
"I'm telling the truth! I don't know who those people are! Calm down, please!"
I raised my hands in surrender. It's remarkably difficult to speak while being throttled; I nearly choked on my own saliva. Kal'tsit glared at me for an eternity before finally releasing her grip.
"...."
"Cough! Cough! H-hack!"
I sat back properly, rubbing my throat. It stung. I really thought she was going to end me. Kal'tsit returned to her seat and spoke softly, her head bowed.
"...So, you really aren't him?"
"Look, who is 'him'? Who is this person that justifies you nearly strangling me to death?"
She didn't answer me. She simply drifted into a monologue.
"...If it were him... his lies would have been far more sophisticated. He wouldn't have panicked like this."
"...I'm sorry, but who is this man? If I'm being mistaken for someone else, shouldn't you tell me for the sake of everyone involved?"
Kal'tsit looked up. Suspicion still flickered in her emerald eyes.
"No... you have no need to know that for now."
And there it was. The classic 'Kal'tsit-speak.'
She seemed convinced I wasn't this 'Overseer' and returned to formal speech, but what now? Then, unexpectedly:
"I offer my apologies for the physical altercation regarding your neck."
Kal'tsit bowed her head slightly. It felt strange to receive an apology from a character I actually liked, mixed with the lingering indignation of almost dying.
Well, I need to keep her on my side if I want to cure Oripathy eventually. We need cooperation with Rhodes Island—or whatever they are now—and I can't afford to be on bad terms with Theresia.
Time to play the role of the magnanimous leader.
"Think nothing of it. Misunderstandings are a common casualty of these times, are they not?"
I managed a smile and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"I spent enough time in the underground to face death a dozen times over; I'm not easily rattled. Besides, we're going to be working together quite often, aren't we? If we're to treat the Infected, we require the expertise of Dr. Kal'tsit from Babel."
I offered my hand for a shake. Kal'tsit paused, staring at the hand before meeting my eyes.
"...Forgive me, but what is 'Babel'?"
Um....
Why is that her reaction?