TCWGRF 4

“How dare you make a pledge you cannot keep? Are you trying to deceive the Party?”

What the new Commissioner General mentioned was an absurd operation that had never been dared to be planned, let alone dreamed of succeeding. Since the city was built, the walls were erected, and it was cut off from the Outside, they had never once completely eradicated the rebels.

Although they presented themselves as perfect, the city was by no means perfect and had no choice but to rely on the Outside.

The multiple gates and the doors leading to the outside were firmly closed, and surveillance was strict, but they had to go out regularly to procure food and obtain necessary raw materials. No matter how vigilant they were, they could not completely prevent the rebels from mixing in.

It was the same for facilities like the sewers and garbage dumps. All the filth generated in the city was processed outside for reasons of hygiene and aesthetics. The only difference was in the method, whether it was flushed out with water or taken out to be incinerated. In that process, it was inevitable that at least a small hole would form in the city’s security.

The rebel spies infiltrated through more diverse routes than the Party leadership expected and easily disguised themselves as one of the citizens. Unless they revealed themselves, it had to be assumed that there was no way to root them all out.

Because among the neighbors who always exchanged greetings, the friends who had lived next door for a long time, the loyal citizens, and the public officials who knew their place and were grateful for the Party’s mercy, there had been rebel spies.

“…Commissioner General Samuel.”

The Party executives, who had been murmuring at the new Commissioner General’s absurd plan, all fell silent as if by agreement at the quiet, low voice that came from behind them.

The one who uniquely addressed Samuel by his title and broke the silence was a small old man who occupied the chair just below the long-vacant seat of honor.

His name was ‘Gideon’, and he had shaved all his hair off to a shine, and wore an outfit that looked like a shabby cloth had been roughly wrapped around his sun-tanned, dark, and wrinkled skin.

On the outside, he looked like a poor and unremarkable old man one might encounter at the edge of the city, but he was the officially recognized second-in-command of the Party and a person with the power to decide on the city’s important affairs in place of the currently bedridden Party leader.

Since such a person had spoken, it was only natural for the riffraff below him to keep their mouths shut, even if they had different opinions.

“What you have spoken of is something that no one in history has ever succeeded at. Not just the Commissioner Generals, but none of us either.”

“I am aware.”

Gideon reiterated the gravity of the new Commissioner General’s words in a tone as if he were soothing a clueless child, but Samuel just smiled faintly as before and reaffirmed that his words were not mere bravado.

“…Anyone can make a pledge. However, the city and the Party do not show tolerance for incompetence. As it is, there will be a regular reporting session in three months. If you fail to produce any significant results by then, how will you take responsibility?”

The eyes of the other executives glinted, as if they were trying to find any weakness to tear into. With so many witnesses, the promise made in this place could not be dared to be broken, nor could he ask them to see it as a slip of the tongue. It would provide a pretext for a purge and become a noose that would one day tighten around his neck.

Nevertheless, Samuel pulled the corners of his mouth up high and answered with a sweet smile.

“If a hunting dog that has failed in its role dies at the hands of its master, it would be an honor, rather.”

*

The basement floor of a building that smelled of damp, not-yet-dry cement.

Not a single sliver of light entered, forcing one to rely on a faint electric lamp, but as if accustomed to it, a woman in a black uniform crossed the corridor.

Her voluminous hair swayed at her waist, and her narrow shoulders and slender waist gave a lithe impression, but the disciplined gait created by the clash of her hard boot soles and the rough floor revealed that she was not an ordinary woman, but a military police officer who had undergone harsh training.

She passed through the corridor, where rooms and doors of the same size were arranged at regular intervals, with documents cradled in her arms.

None of the room doors had a nameplate or a number, so they had to be distinguished only by their order, but it didn’t seem to be a particularly difficult task for the woman who was heading toward her destination without hesitation.

Upon reaching the corner of the corridor, she pivoted 90 degrees on the ball of her right foot, stopped in front of the door right before her, and knocked. Knock, knock.

“Come in.”

As soon as permission was granted from inside, she turned the round doorknob and opened the door.

A narrow room viewed through the whitish light. Inside, a man covered in blood was tied to a chair. Blood dripped from the various orifices on his face, which was pointed toward the floor, and his clothes were soaked completely red, making him look like a piece of meat at the start of butchering.

Drip, drip. A liquid, impossible to tell if it was blood, tears, or urine leaked out of unbearable fear, collected at the bottom of the chair and then fell into the puddle of water pooled beneath it.

Opposite him, near the entrance, stood her superior. The new Commissioner General of Public Security, with his emotionless expression, seemed to have no sympathy for the man who had become a piece of meat.

The visitor was no different. She immediately showed the documents she had brought without any fuss and stated the purpose of her visit.

“More people have applied for the neighborhood watch than we expected.”

“That’s good.”

Samuel said so with a slight, smug smile, placing a cigarette on his lips, seeming to be in a pleasant mood. He then lit the cigarette, which sizzled as it burned, held it between his fingers, and blew a puff of smoke toward the unconscious prisoner.

The man, who regained a little consciousness upon smelling the acrid smoke, began to cry out for his life, repeating only the words, “I’ve told you everything I know. Please save me,” as if trapped in a nightmare.

His plea, made while forcing down the surging blood in his throat, was pitiful, but no one inside paid any attention to the worthless sound.

Click. Samuel’s aide-de-camp, ‘Sarah’, took out a pocket watch from her pocket and checked the time.

“You need to leave now for your next appointment.”

“Ah, right.”

Samuel stubbed out the cigarette he was smoking directly on the tied man’s thigh. Sizzle. The sound of meat cooking was heard as his flesh burned along with the fabric.

“Kuaaaargh!”

He paid no mind to the desperate scream and headed to the sink next to the door. He threw off his bloodstained gloves and, rolling a bar of soap in his palm, washed away the blood that had seeped between his fingers under a strong stream of water.

While he briskly wiped the remaining moisture from his hands with a clean towel, Sarah took the uniform jacket that was hanging on a clothes rack and waited for her superior outside the door.

“Take care of the cleanup.”

Samuel, having slipped his arms into the jacket and put on new gloves, commanded Sarah as he left. She gave a curt, expressionless reply of “Yes,” then entered the room and closed the door behind her. A sliver of light that had brushed her face was swallowed by the darkness, and not a single small scream escaped from within.