Ch.36Chapter 6. The Price of a Name (1)

# Chapter 6. The Price of a Name

Special Medical Company, 8th National Military Police Special Task Force

While the Special Task Force building is old and shabby, no place is as “gloomy” as the Medical Company.

It’s because of the trees.

Two large zelkova trees, the kind that should be at the village entrance, envelop the building, blocking both sunlight and wind. Only a damp, cool atmosphere like an old person’s breath fills the building inside and out.

It’s dim even in broad daylight, but on foggy or rainy days, the dampness reaches its peak. It feels like looking at a cursed mansion half-submerged in a swamp. Not just the sergeants but even the officers take a detour around the Medical Company building on such days.

Usually, such buildings are entangled with military ghost stories. These tales gain flesh as they pass through the mouths of sentries and officers trying to scare new recruits, becoming embellished and more frightening with each telling.

Perhaps ghost stories are a human defense mechanism against fear. Stories are narratives. Narratives must have cause and effect, and must be easily understood by anyone.

Of course, understanding doesn’t make the fear disappear. Fear is instinct and emotion, belonging to the realm of the heart, not thought.

Rather, understanding fear is not about pushing it away, but accepting it within oneself. It’s about refining it from the unknown to the familiar, from the familiar to the common.

Until, like a monster doll played with in childhood, it can no longer affect people.

Not only the Medical Company personnel but also the officers and soldiers dispatched from the 8th National Military Police understand this principle well.

Thirty-five people were rescued from Rambert. All of them are in isolation in the Medical Company building’s solitary cells. This is to confirm whether zombification is in progress or not.

For this reason, they had to undergo individual isolation for more than three weeks, with physical examinations and tests conducted morning and evening. If anything unusual appeared in the readings, detailed examinations were performed, which was extremely tedious and uncomfortable.

“Wow, I haven’t seen this machine since my undergraduate days. You’re still using this?”

Fortunately, most of the detainees were doctors and nurses from the Disease Control Agency. They knew the “isolation guidelines” better than anyone and cooperated with the military investigation.

But they too were people with emotions. They couldn’t enjoy living in prison-like solitary cells. So they diverted their attention to the military’s outdated facilities and the visitors who came by regularly.

“Can’t be helped. The military as an organization loves the latest and most advanced technology more than anyone, but it’s a group that would never use unverified equipment even if it killed them.”

“That seems contradictory. If something is verified enough, it means it’s not new, right?”

“That’s why everyone tries to avoid military service. I wouldn’t have done it either if I hadn’t received a scholarship.”

Thirty-five doctors and nurses confined with nothing to do. The 8th National Military Police didn’t miss this opportunity.

An order was issued for all military doctors, nursing officers, and medics belonging to the Military Police to apply for the “Special Task Force Medical Company.”

As a result, military doctors and medics found themselves in the position of having their clumsy hands examined by none other than “doctor patients.” It was called an order, but it was essentially free training.

“Hey, medic. I told you more than twice. Just tighten it firmly, okay?”

“I was worried it might hurt…”

“Listen, pain is best paid in full! Just press down! Ah, ah, ah! Yes! Tie it tight like this! Tight tight! Got it? Tight tight! Harder! Aaagh!”

Of course, not all conversations went this way.

“Does the military pay proper salaries? We only get basic pay. I’d rather they just give us meal vouchers instead of money.”

“We’re the opposite. They only give us meal vouchers. I wonder if they want us to sell them on the black market.”

Some lamented about the hardships of being civil servants,

“Excuse me, can I go outside and make contact?”

“Send a letter. I heard phone censorship is strict these days.”

And some found unexpected connections.

Not only medical personnel entered. Soldiers and officers from the investigation department also went in to investigate what these people had experienced.

Of course, while it was called an investigation, it was really just: “You must be worried. You must have been shocked. What exactly did you experience? Can you tell us about it?”

There was no reason for the military to treat them harshly, as they were civilians who had nearly been sold into slavery, not criminals.

The testimonies of the rescued people generally matched. That suddenly the driver took an unusual route instead of a safe one, that after a brief firefight with a gang, everyone was captured and locked in an apple warehouse.

And finally, their hostility toward the unnamed “bastard” from the Rambert gang who wore a Disease Control Agency jacket.

“If I meet that bastard again, I’ll turn him into a zombie. He hit me with a rifle butt and cracked my jaw. Ah. Ow ow ow.”

“He’s a sadist. Definitely a sadist. I still wake up with a start when I think about it. He took us out of the warehouse, just threw a bunch of keys, and then said into the radio, ‘The slaves have escaped.’ Is that a devil or a person?”

“He was a typical ‘perpetrator who justifies himself.’ ‘I didn’t want to do this, you made me this way!’ People like this always look for causes outside themselves. They’re maladjusted individuals full of dissatisfaction who can’t function properly in society.”

“No, he even shot at his own gang members! He killed them all just to save himself. He’s a psychopath. Absolutely.”

All testimonies were recorded in reports under the verification of Letitia, an elite officer. Of course, Letitia didn’t forget to add a footnote to “that bastard” saying “presumed to be V.”

“Here’s the report. Where’s the commander?”

The duty soldier answered Letitia’s question.

“She’s in the special isolation ward.”

“Still?”

“Yes, still. That woman is also impressive. I’d be terrified to death just being with the commander, but apparently that woman is still keeping her mouth shut.”

Letitia recalled that woman. She had large breasts. So large that Letitia wondered if they were uncomfortable in daily life. The commander was quite large too, but smaller than that woman.

‘Size isn’t everything. Shape is what matters.’

With these slightly strange thoughts, Letitia looked toward the ward.

* * * * *

Though it looks gloomy and shabby, the Medical Company building is actually sturdy. It’s a building thoroughly prepared for soundproofing, waterproofing, fire prevention, and even escape prevention. If only it didn’t have the defect of frequently developing mold on the outer walls and easily dirtied windows.

Among these, the sturdiest and most solid room, housing the most dangerous detainee, is right here. The special isolation ward. From the outside, it looks identical to other wards, but this room has very special devices installed.

Special Task Force Commander Virginia Helford sits in a chair in the ward. With her long legs crossed and body leaned back, she exudes an air of composure.

“There are many ghost stories about this building. But reality is worse than the stories. During the war, this place was used as a prisoner torture room. The trees outside concealed everything happening inside.

After Roemer gained the upper hand, it was used to confine mentally unstable soldiers, most of whom never saw the light of day again. Then the 8th National Military Police took over, and finally it was assigned to the Special Task Force.

It looks normal from the outside, doesn’t it? But this building still retains its old appearance. For example, if you remove that white sheet on that wall, ‘that room from the war period’ appears. I had it cleaned up nicely after previous commanders left it unattended.

I haven’t had a chance to use it since I was appointed just days ago, but perhaps… you might be the first.”

Virginia looked at the patient tied to the bed.

The bruises on her arms and the back of her hands had subsided, and the gunshot wound on her back had almost healed. The bullet had grazed her, leaving quite a long scar, but thanks to the enthusiastic treatment of military doctors and the Disease Control Agency’s “supplies,” treatment without any scars was possible.

“As you already know, we used some of the treatment from the vehicle. It was used purely for treatment purposes, so it’s not misappropriation of civilian goods. It works remarkably well. Pushing cell regeneration and recovery power to the extreme for rapid treatment… I thought it was just a dream, but technology is truly convenient.”

Instead, the patient had developed injuries she didn’t have before. She had struggled so much to escape the ward that the military police officers had shot her with a tranquilizer gun and firmly strapped her to the bed.

Leather straps were wrapped around the woman’s wrists, ankles, and waist. Connected to the bed attached to the wall and floor, they were tough enough that neither human nor zombie could break them.

Virginia smiled contentedly.

“So let’s stop this futile resistance. Patients in other rooms are very cooperative. Our military has no reason to treat you badly.

But if you continue to be uncooperative with the investigation, we have no choice. I treat people as they wish to be treated, that’s my policy. And you… seem to want very, very bad treatment.”

Virginia’s purple eyes widened. Eyes filled with madness that seemed capable of greedily sucking in everything in the world. Her subordinates would euphemistically say that the commander looks at things “like this.”

The patient on the bed calmly met that gaze. Unlike Virginia, no light could be found in those eyes. Eyes completely devoid of vitality, utterly dead.

“Let Cassandra go.”

“Let me say it again. We need your cooperation. What did you talk about with that man called V? What conversation took place in the car you two rode together? Did he harm or threaten you in any way?”

“Cassandra doesn’t betray.”

Virginia bent over laughing. After wiping tears with her fingertips, she rose from the chair. She instructed her subordinates standing outside with tranquilizer guns to turn around, and even closed the window attached to the door.

“This room. How do you like it? Soft mattresses cover the ceiling, walls, and even the floor. The lighting is white, and there are no windows. It’s designed to block out all stimuli from the world. A fitting place for someone with such a complex mind as yours.”

“Witch.”

Cassandra glared at Virginia.

“You have no right to hold Cassandra like this. Cassandra is a senior researcher. An important figure at Elza. They won’t stand for this.”

“I hope they won’t.”

Virginia approached the bed. One step. Another step. Cassandra didn’t move. But when Virginia untied her wrists and ankles, she looked at her with slightly puzzled eyes.

“What are you thinking?”

But Virginia sat back in the chair and crossed her legs. After fidgeting for a while, she snapped her fingers.

“Cassandra. Cassandra… an interesting name. It suits you too. Cassandra Wilson. That’s the name you work under, right?”

“That’s the name Cassandra chose.”

“No. Names are given by others. No matter how much you try to name yourself, it has no meaning. Even if a pig calls itself a swan, if everyone in the world calls it a pig, its name is pig.”

“Cassandra will forge her own destiny. No one can stop that.”

Virginia nodded.

“I have no intention of stopping you. Instead, I’ll give you a choice. Choose one of two options. One is to return to the Disease Control Agency under the name Cassandra Wilson. The other is…”

“…to let Cassandra go.”

“No. You’ll return to the Disease Control Agency under a different name.”

Cassandra’s body convulsed. She covered her ears with both palms. Fear settled in her dim eyes.

“Don’t. Don’t. No. Don’t.”

Virginia rose from the chair. She grabbed Cassandra’s wrist. Strength entered the thin arm.

“If it’s a test of strength, I’m confident too. I also inherited your father’s legacy.”

“Let Cassandra go!”

“What kind of name is Cassandra? Those foolish administrative managers might have believed you at face value, but the military leadership knows your ‘real’ name.”

“Don’t!”

“I’ll say it again. I’m giving you a choice. One is to return to the Disease Control Agency under the name Cassandra Wilson. Then you can keep talking in the third person, saying ‘Cassandra is’ instead of ‘I am’.”

Cassandra struggled. Virginia dodged all her kicks with ease. Still holding her wrist, she slowly bent her upper body. She was almost touching Cassandra’s chest.

“The other is to return to the Disease Control Agency under your ‘real’ name.”

“Don’t say it!”

Cassandra tried to headbutt Virginia. Virginia grabbed her neck and pinned her down. Cassandra resisted, but having been lying down for too long, she couldn’t muster any strength.

“One of the founders of Kibele, a master of biotechnology, the only survivor of the Osborn family who was purged on charges of war crimes after the war ended, and the rightful heir to the legacy. Under the name of Ophelia Osborn.”

“Stop… please…”

“You say ‘you’ decided the name?”

“Nngh…”

“No. That’s something others give you. Live as determined. That’s your lot. I have no desire to play along with your petty make-believe.”

Only after tracing Cassandra’s cheek with her thumb did Virginia release her neck. A white mark was clearly visible on Cassandra’s neck. Cassandra sobbed.

“Think about it. If you cooperate, we’ll return the favor.”

“…Let… me go… you must believe me… we need to find a counterexample…”

“Because the world is being destroyed by the virus?”

Cassandra tried to sit up. But she couldn’t because of the strap tied around her waist.

“Y-yes. That’s right. At this rate, the Erysichthon Protocol will be activated. Everyone is taking the virus too lightly. But I, I can reverse it. If you release me, if you let me go… I will definitely…!”

“I believe you.”

But Virginia moved closer to the door. Cassandra, no, biotechnologist Ophelia Osborn, lowered her head.

“…If you believe me, why won’t you let me go?”

“Because I believe in the end of the world.”

Ophelia raised her head. Her expression was filled with shock.

“You.”

A long, white finger pointed at Virginia.

“You… what are you thinking…”

But Virginia just bowed her head and smiled.

“Take care of yourself, Miss ‘Cassandra.’ I hope you’ll be more cooperative next time. If you cooperate in tracking V… I’ll return the name ‘Cassandra’ to you.”

Virginia left the ward.