Ch.63Chapter 8. The Lives of Others (5)

I could never do this sober.

But my arms hurt too much. My back and waist are starting to ache as well. If either my mouth or my body has to be embarrassed…

Right. Better my mouth.

“I want you. You’re mine.”

No reaction. Complete silence. Cold sweat breaks out involuntarily.

“Heh.”

“Hey.”

“…You actually did it.”

Camilla came down. She stretched her arms behind her back, interlocking her fingers, and looked up at me with a smile.

“Say it to my face. With my name. My real name. You know it.”

“This is childish, Camilla.”

“I know. I’ve wanted to try this since forever. Since I was 10. Come on, is this too much? You’ve done it once, so the second time should be easier.”

“…Camilia. You are mine.”

“Pfft…”

“I want you, Camilia.”

Camilla took off her shirt. Her purple bra with black lace was fully exposed.

“Yes. I’m yours now.”

She wrapped her long arms around my head and pulled me toward her chest. I could see a small mole below her collarbone.

“Leave your mark here.”

“What?”

“What do you think, mister? I’m not 10 anymore. Leave a mark that I’m yours. Right here.”

I think I understand.

I pressed my lips against her soft, delicate skin.

“Ah.”

Camilla embraced my head.

Though it’s my first time, I know enough not to bite. Instead, I pressed with my lips and sucked firmly but gently. When I pulled away, a bruise-like mark remained below her collarbone.

My mark. My mark left on her body.

A sign that she’s mine.

Camilla didn’t put her shirt back on. She traced around the mark with her fingers. Her chest pushed up against her bra as her arm pressed against it.

She stared at me for a moment, then tugged at my collar. She brought her mouth to the space between my neck and shoulder, lightly kissed it, and then—

“Ah.”

She bit me gently. It stings. She removed and reapplied her tongue and lips like rubbing an alcohol swab over an injection site. Finally, she pulled back.

“…That hurts.”

Camilla stuck out her tongue slightly.

“That’s a warning.”

“What?”

“If you treat me roughly just because I’m yours, I’ll bite you hard. Be careful. And you.”

“Yes?”

“You need to exercise more.”

…Is that what this is about?

“What? I was quite comfortable. I wasn’t lacking strength. It’s not my problem.”

Camilla, understanding the implication, put her hands on her waist.

“You know what? When I lose weight, my chest and butt are the first to go.”

“…I’ll build muscle.”

“Pervert.”

* * * * *

Camilla brought two water bottles from the kitchen. The laptop displayed a message: “Backup successful. Recovery rate 100%.”

I was nervous about directly accessing the USB folder, so I created a separate copy on the hard disk. This way, we’d be safe even if files were accidentally deleted.

Camilla and I peered at the monitor. When sorted by date, the files went back four years.

Photos, chat texts, application information, videos. All in large quantities. The problem was that all the file names were dates, making it difficult to intuitively know what each contained. We’d have to open them one by one.

“I’ll open the oldest ones first.”

Camilla nodded and clung tightly to my arm. I swallowed dryly. Her collarbone was visible between her shirt. It was a bit embarrassing, but at the same time, my mouth watered.

Right. Let’s move forward. I pressed play.

– Aah, yes! Aaahng! There, harder!

I immediately closed it. Though the keyboard was different, my fingers knew exactly where the shortcut keys were.

Camilla froze with her eyes wide open, and I belatedly took a breath.

“Um. Uh.”

That was quite explicit.

“Yeah.”

Camilla also pretended not to be affected.

“That tail was quite fluffy.”

“Indeed.”

I clicked on the next one.

– Ahhhhhaaaaaang!

This time I didn’t close it. I just pressed space to pause. At least this one only showed a close-up of a face. I caught a glimpse of what looked like a white leopard tail.

“…Could this be Hoot’s preference?”

“Ah, it can’t be. The Liberation Organization requires us to use their own applications. And we change phones for every mission.

We either steal them or get them from the black market. Hoot must have acquired this one for this mission, so this is… probably the original owner’s, um, stuff.”

Camilla was flustered, as was I.

There are at least 100 more videos like this. That means we have to click through each one.

“…We have no choice. I guess we’ll get desensitized eventually.”

* * * * *

We’ve gone through over 60 videos.

It’s mind-numbing. Though the species varied, they all had tails and spoke human language. The owner had consistent tastes. At this point, I was beginning to reasonably suspect that this Hoot person might have been lying.

– Tell me, how does a rabbit cry?

– Ra-rabbits go p-peeyat! Ahhhaaang!

– Cry like ‘peeyat’!

– I-I want to, but every time master… ahihing…!

“…Um, Johan?”

Camilla cleared her throat.

“Huh, what?”

I snapped back to reality.

“You’ve been watching this one for quite a while…”

“Well, it’s a latex bunny girl.”

Camilla grimaced at my response.

“You like this stuff?! Are you really a pervert?”

“It’s actually a reverse bunny.”

“I’m seriously disappointed!”

Camilla slapped the back of my hand and grabbed the mouse. In the process, she accidentally clicked on something else. This was a completely different video.

Until now, the scenes had been in rooms, but this was in a large park. Watching too much pornography can be problematic. The brain becomes desensitized and seeks more stimulating content.

So it would be natural for this person to develop a taste for public humiliation videos…

“Celebration of the Excavation of the Goddess of Hunger Statue”

Or not.

“…Huh?”

Camilla blinked and paused the video.

“What’s wrong?”

“…I know this. Actually, everyone in Elza would know this.”

“What is it?”

“This. The celebration of the excavation of the Goddess of Hunger statue. Let’s watch.”

Camilla played the video again. It looked like a concert venue with an enormous crowd.

The owner of the video was seated on the stage. Judging by the height and angle of the filming, they probably had their phone in their shirt pocket.

People were seated in a row on the platform. They were all overweight and elderly-looking men and women. There were also military personnel with numerous medals.

Camilla paused the screen and pointed at each person.

“This person was the former president of Elza. This one was the former Speaker of Parliament. This one was the former Minister of Defense. Here, the people in gray suits were delegates from Römer.”

“Why are you speaking in past tense?”

“Because they’re all dead. They died here. In a Liberation Group terrorist attack. …They sold out their countrymen and amassed wealth through corruption, so honestly, I don’t feel much sympathy.

That day, remember, Elza was in a festive mood. They were even giving out free drinks everywhere. But I’ve never seen footage this close before. The news only showed photos and brief clips.”

I asked about things I didn’t understand.

“Why would the president attend an excavation celebration for the Goddess of Hunger?”

“Well…”

Camilla seemed to be considering where to begin. I told her to just start from the beginning. That would be easier.

“You know that Elza was under the rule of either Minsk in the west or Römer in the east for a long time, right? The desire for Elzans to have their own government was strong, but many people didn’t feel that way.

People near the borders, whether west or east, consider themselves Minskian or Römerian. Their identity as Elzans is weak.

Even before the Liberation Group, those who fought for Elza’s independence knew this problem. They needed to find something uniquely Elzan. That’s when they found the Goddess of Hunger.”

“Do only Elzans believe in her?”

“It’s strange, but statues of the Goddess of Hunger have only been excavated in Elza. I mean the ones carved and polished from stone, not the crude ones made by fanatics.

Other countries ‘know about’ the goddess, but only Elzans ‘believe in’ her. Not all Elzans believe, though.”

For establishing “our unique identity” that distinguishes from other groups, nothing works better than ethnic spirit, culture, and religion.

Just as Israelis maintained their identity as “Jews” even while wandering without a country. That identity subjected them to persecution but also preserved them as a people. The Goddess of Hunger seems to hold a similar position for Elzans.

“But Camilla, doesn’t that make the Goddess of Hunger a symbol of Elzan liberation?”

“…Yes. And this cunning man knew it too. Here, the former president. The puppet government, while being Römer’s puppet, brazenly claimed to be Elza’s independent government. So they ‘stole’ the Liberation Group’s wording.

By fully supporting the Goddess of Hunger faith, they claimed they too cared about Elza. The Römerian delegation’s presence was to show support for this approach by the Elzan puppet government.”

It’s quite a clever tactic.

When a large political group takes over the framing of a smaller political group, the smaller group rapidly loses power.

People also prefer the swift action of a large group over the struggling efforts of a smaller one.

If the Elzan government appropriates “Elzan independence” and “the Goddess of Hunger faith,” the liberation struggle inevitably weakens.

The essence of liberation struggles lies in making people uncomfortable.

While they certainly have the advantage of awakening people from complacency, they also have the side effect of making already tired people more exhausted and irritated. People naturally think, “I know you’re doing the right thing, but isn’t it too disruptive?”

But if that motive is taken over by a nominally proper government, especially a moderate one?

Citizens will naturally support the government. “Okay, you’ve been bad until now, but try to do better from now on!”

We played the video. As it progressed naturally, the host introduced each person by name. The audience’s response was generally jeers. The higher the social position, the louder the jeers.

– Introducing Gregory Müller, top entrant to Elza National University Medical School and government scholarship recipient!

The camera suddenly pointed upward. The original owner of this phone must have been Gregory Müller, the medical student. Due to the camera in his front pocket, he only bent slightly. There wasn’t much response.

– Next, introducing Joanna Merstein, archaeologist and paleontologist who led this excavation project. A prodigy appointed as the youngest tenured professor at Elza National University…

A woman stood up and bowed. Again, there wasn’t much response.

“Wait.”

I paused the video. I went back and forth frame by frame.

“This woman. Doesn’t she look strange?”

A slightly short, thin woman. But something felt off. It was the horn-rimmed glasses.

While they’re used as fashion items, the original purpose of horn-rimmed glasses is to hold thick lenses. Thick lenses mean that facial contours seen through them appear distorted or twisted.

But the woman in the photo was clearly wearing horn-rimmed glasses with lenses, yet there was no such distortion. Her jawline was consistent. This meant the glasses had no prescription.

Like Camilla’s disguise glasses. Camilla also narrowed her eyes and looked closely.

“This is a wig. See here?”

Beneath the blonde wig, strands of chestnut-colored hair were visible. The texture and placement of the hair were completely different. It definitely looked like a wig.

“Did this person die too?”

“…Just a moment.”

Camilla turned on her phone and searched the news. After looking for a while, she twisted her lips.

“No. It says this person survived. Dr. Joanna Merstein, right? She’s still teaching at Elza National University.”

That’s strange. We played the video again. The president took the stage.

– For a long—

The microphone made a piercing noise. Engineers quickly rushed in. The president made a displeased expression. The audience erupted in cheers.

– For a long time you’ve been waiting, everyone. While I have much to say and share, first it’s appropriate to welcome today’s protagonist.

– Everyone, let us pay homage. The pride of Elza. A cultural heritage we can boast to the world. The one who makes Elza truly Elzan, the Goddess of Hunger!

Cheers erupted. The sound was so loud that the laptop speakers crackled with noise. The platform shook, and even the Römerian delegation was caught laughing in surprise.

People dressed in ancient Greek-style ceremonial robes wheeled in a glass case about 1.8 meters long, covered with a white curtain. Those in ceremonial robes carefully grabbed the strings attached to the curtain and pulled it back.

The venue’s large screen showed the entire statue. Apart from being carved from white marble, it looked identical to the statue the fanatics had been carrying earlier. But there was one difference.

The expression.

This was something the crude wooden statue couldn’t replicate.

The angel in the fanatics’ wooden statue had a face that seemed to be protesting, writhing in agony.

But the expression on this marble goddess statue, while similar, had a completely different atmosphere. It was the face of a beast devoid of any emotion.

Like the expression a zombie shows when lunging for food.