Miss Assassin is heavily addicted

Chapter 138, Section 12: Glory Bows to Me
The weekend three days later.

The sky above Parsons was overcast, with leaden-gray clouds that looked like it was about to rain.

He Ye dressed neatly early in the morning and went downstairs to keep his appointment. A car was waiting to pick him up at the door.

In the heart of Parsenal stands a historic building called the Assembly Hall, where the nation's investiture ceremonies and important speeches have been held.

Today, He Ye will spend the morning there as a sergeant awarded the Medal of Honor.

On the third-floor balcony of the apartment, Nicole rested her chin on her hand, watching the black car drive away with reluctance. These past few days, moving into this house has felt a bit lonely. The luxurious house, which is nearly 200 square meters, has only the two of them as guests. Even in the sweltering summer, the house feels cool inside. One can almost feel the loneliness of a widow.

"Come back soon..." Nicole mumbled as she lay down.

He Ye couldn't hear it, but he would come back soon; attending this ceremony was not his wish.

Sitting in the leather back seat of the car, He Ye rested his hands on his knees with his eyes closed. The driver saw a man in black, like a samurai, sitting upright and meticulously through the rearview mirror, which made him feel a sense of awe.

In reality, He Ye was just resting with his eyes closed.

After all, I got up very early.

Half an hour later, they arrived at their destination, and the driver respectfully opened the car door for He Ye. He opened his eyes, his sleepiness had largely dissipated, and his eyes were bright and alert. He nodded and got out of the car.

The hem of his black overcoat fluttered in the wind, and gloomy clouds still hung over Parsons City. He looked up at the solemn building in front of him—the City Hall. The collar of his coat stood upright, unmoving in the wind. This uniform, issued to him by CORE, had been ordered by his superior to be worn today, giving him a cold, ruthless look.

There were many people around, so He Ye wasn't late.

He walked forward, facing a massive granite staircase with thirteen steps leading up to him, like a divine staircase.

He Ye couldn't help but feel his own insignificance, until he stood on the platform of the towering steps, in front of him was the main entrance of the Great Hall, made of thick beige stone that had withstood hundreds of years of wind and rain.

Looking back down, He Ye saw black cars neatly parked on both sides of the road, about ten meters above the ground, and people were on their way.

The man next to him, smoking a cigar, is Ivan Strakov.

"There were over a thousand people attending this time, filling the Great Hall of the People. Basically, everyone with a position in the Secret Service was here," Old Ivan said quietly, exhaling a smoke ring. "We couldn't make it public in the media, so the Führer wanted everyone at headquarters to at least know about our heroes."

He Ye listened to his words and made a few helpless jokes, saying that he was more like a rat hiding his identity than a hero. He then shook his head, turned around and left, walking towards the open main gate.

Old Ivan quickly took a deep drag on his cigar, then abandoned his seat and followed.

The Great Hall has crosswalks in every section for people to walk through. Under Old Ivan's guidance, He Ye found his place, not in the front row near the podium, but in the lounge in the side room, where armed guards stood at the door.

He Ye sat in the lounge with his eyes closed, resting.

He was feeling a bit conflicted.

He could sense people moving around in the lounge, and some were even introducing themselves to others—He Ye heard the name Dorov. The man's weathered voice revealed a sense of weariness. He remembered that old Ivan had said that there were two people listed at the very top of the list, alongside him.

He Ye didn't open her eyes to get to know them.

Don't know how long it has been.

There was some noise outside, then it suddenly became quiet. He Ye heard someone say the word "Head of State" in the side lounge of the hall.

Then, after a short wait...

The crisp sound of halberds striking the ground as guards changed shifts came from outside the door.

"The time has come, gentlemen." At this moment, the attendant gently pushed open the door, his eyes filled with awe.

He Ye finally stopped closing his eyes to rest.

He followed the two out, his trench coat slowly flipping as he walked.

The air in the hall was filled with the scent of old oak and a faint smell of waxed flooring. National flags hung on the walls and the podium around the hall. The faces of the thronging crowd were obscured by their seats, but they watched with awe and solemnity. Hundreds of eyes were cast from all directions, making them the absolute focus of attention.

He Ye walked beneath the dome;

The leather boots stepped on the carpet.

The past glories and sacrifices piled up to create a profound sense of history that is overwhelming.

And now, on the podium, the portrait of the ruler of Country B, which I had only seen in the newspapers before, stands before me, now brought to life.

August Werner.

The head of state's eyes appeared empty and detached, even carrying an indescribable inhuman quality. His facial features were rigid and not broad, giving him an air of arrogance without being imposing.

Compared to the heavily edited and beautified photos in the newspaper, seeing the real person up close now, He Ye could sense the obsession and arrogance in his demeanor.

The way he looked at me wasn't with care or respect, but with an inhuman gaze, like a soldier caressing a bullet.

"In the name of our supreme Führer!" the master of ceremonies' voice resounded, "In accordance with the Imperial Constitution and Military Code, Adrian von Hohenheim is hereby awarded the Grand Cross of the Order of the Order of the Rising Sun!"

The entire venue was silent, save for the slight fluttering of the flags in the air.

He Ye and two others stood above, his mind still racing even at this moment. Until the head of state stood before him, casting a pair of empty blue eyes upon him.

He Ye slowly raised his right arm and gave a standard salute, tapping it on his left chest.

"In the name of our supreme head of state!" The master of ceremonies' voice resounded once again, proclaiming He Ye's name in the solemn hall.

Even the name used within headquarters is a pseudonym; the one read out by the master of ceremonies at this moment is He Ye's real name.

But questions inevitably arise...

When a pseudonym is used for far longer than one's real name... which one truly represents oneself?

He Ye had no idea what was going on, but he felt someone pinning some kind of medal on his left arm.

The base is made of gold, inlaid with three glittering stars, surrounded by golden embroidery of laurel and oak leaves, and finally pierced through the center by a large cross.

What He Ye felt was not joy, but a real, cold weight.

Applause erupted from the audience.

The award ceremony was not yet over.

At this moment, three honor guards each carried a rectangular sandalwood plank, on which were placed three long knives, with a gold silk ribbon at the bottom.

Even as the three long swords lay still on silk ribbons, their scabbards exuded luxury—ebony scabbards covered with gilded bronze ornaments, engraved with the names of the swords.

Auguste Warner, the Führer, solemnly bestowed three long swords upon the three men standing on the platform.

The longsword was heavy, feeling like it weighed ten thousand pounds, until he suddenly awoke from a dream and stood before hundreds or even thousands of people, receiving honor as a reward.

"This military knife is named Loyalty."

Dorov silently accepted the knife.

"This military knife is called Sacrifice."

Kyle took the knife with trembling hands.

"The name of this military knife is..."

He Ye's hands had already touched the cold and heavy scabbard. Before the leader even said the name of the sword, he had already seen its true name out of the corner of his eye.

He stood there, feeling utterly lost.

"Belief."

……

An hour later, the awarding ceremony had ended.

The gloomy sky made it unclear whether Parrison's factories were operating at full capacity in preparation for the impending war, or whether the local weather bureau had failed to manage the weather properly. Despite it being mid-June and summer, it felt as cold and gloomy as autumn.

He Ye stood outside the Great Hall, overlooking a vast open space. Black cars started their engines inside, and countless people drove away. He stood there, seemingly lost in thought.

As he walked out of the Great Hall, a strange sense of unease settled over him. He had been rewarded and was being greeted with approving and admiring glances as he stepped off the stage, but the feeling of melancholy left him with nowhere to turn.

So now, as He Ye stands here, it's as if the wind blowing from above can dispel that unspeakable depression.

"Oh, He Ye, why are you standing here instead of going home? Are you waiting for me to treat you to dinner?"

Old Ivan, beaming with delight, joked as he and Director Dianesen walked out together. The two men, sitting in the first two rows, had witnessed the entire ceremony of the head of state's commendation, applauding and saluting He Ye, so this banter sounded quite amusing to them.

Ke Heye, unusually, did not reply.

Normally he would crack jokes, but now he just hesitated, then waved his hand and fell silent.

"You don't mean you want me to be alone, do you?" Old Ivan tried to interpret his actions.

He Ye was speechless for a moment: "..."

Director Diane smiled, patted He Ye on the shoulder, offered a few casual compliments, and left. In his eyes, this was a young man receiving excessive honors, which had made him somewhat arrogant and unrealistic.

Like Kyle—also a spy under Director Dianeson, he was the only one from his team to return. He was nominated because he obtained important military intelligence and had a rich resume. Although he wasn't among the first batch of spies to infiltrate Greenley City like He Ye, and the previous sweep had wiped out half of his spies, he was sent in the second batch, but he still had three years of hard work to show for it.

Kyle was so excited to receive the Grand Cross of Honor that he jumped for joy and declared he would treat the entire Second Division to dinner.

It seems that people react to honor in completely different ways.

After Director Dianeson left, He Ye remained standing in the same spot, quietly enjoying the breeze, which puzzled old Ivan.

"What are you worried about? You already have honors that I envy," old Ivan asked with deep emotion.

"I was just thinking about what my faith is."

“Faith?” Old Ivan said with a complicated tone, “Isn’t this the kind of thing that those bookish professors like to talk about? Church priests believe in God, fishermen believe in the sea god. Everyone believes in some vague and ethereal things because they are helpful to their lives. We don’t have faith. We just need to be loyal.”

Old Ivan rubbed his hands as he spoke, as if he was deeply moved. When he was deeply moved, he wanted to smoke, but he realized that the cigar he had brought with him was lost before he entered the house. If he wanted to go back and get it, he could only get it from the car.

Old Ivan only had a few cigarettes that others had handed him. They weren't as strong as cigars, but after hesitating for a long time, he lit one, put it in his mouth, and felt a great sense of relief.

"We just need to obey the Führer's orders, and he will lead us into a new era..." Old Ivan mumbled, his cigarette dangling from his lips. "You just haven't heard his speeches, otherwise you would know how inspiring his ideas are. We've lived such a humiliating life in the past!"

"When we conquer the north, conquer the south, conquer the west! There will be countless fertile lands and winters that no longer freeze people to death!"

"What about those people?"

"What?" Old Ivan was stunned for a moment.

He Ye didn't turn his head, but just looked ahead. Under the vast sky, the haze was thick. A corner of the city was revealed in front of him, with towering buildings and citizens living their lives.

He put his hands in his coat pockets and said softly without pointing in any direction:

“There are people there just like those here.”

Old Ivan understood the meaning behind those words. He had mixed feelings about the atmosphere that was about to break out in the country. Perhaps the atmosphere was completely different among the lower classes. They saw war as an opportunity, revenge, and a chance to wash away shame, but it was also a cruel meat grinder where young people would die for military merit, or perhaps it was a more ethereal and unrealistic ideal.

As the deputy director of the CORE intelligence agency and the superior of this young man, Ivan could not express any left-wing leanings toward the war and the country; he could only offer his admiration.

“They are the enemy. Are you going to sympathize with the enemy?” Old Ivan said with a furrowed brow. “What’s wrong with you? This isn’t like you.”

“I just don’t know if my position is right. I feel confused about what I’ve been doing all this time…” He Ye said slowly. “Until now, I just wanted to live a peaceful life. If possible, I wanted to settle down in a city where spring is in full bloom, get married and have children like ordinary people. But from the beginning, I was caught in the vortex of war. It was a path I had no choice but to take. I understand that the organization nurtured me, and I’m trying to repay them and show my value. But I never thought of letting the war spread to more places.”

Old Ivan probably understood what He Ye was trying to say: "You're saying that the war we started was wrong, right?"

"..." Of course, He Ye wouldn't say that. He just slowly lowered his hand and gripped the pommel of the long sword tightly.

Old Ivan suddenly noticed that the young man in black standing next to him looked a little lonely. Even though his eyes were so clear, there was a sense of bewilderment in them.

Taking a deep breath, old Ivan, cigarette between his fingers, approached with a puzzled look and asked in a low voice:
"You were just commended by the leader, you're now a hero in the organization, why would you have such thoughts?... Do you really want to give up all the honors that others envy, the countless riches, and the power? To be an ordinary person?"

"Could your confusion stem from the horrors of war?"

"..." He Ye remained silent.

But this silence was seen as agreement by old Ivan, because he could tell from He Ye's tone that he hated war. Old Ivan believed that He Ye was afraid of death and that was why he said these words, otherwise he would not have the idea of ​​wanting to be an ordinary person.

But He Ye, as a normal member of the next generation, understands that such a war is wrong. However, his individual strength is too insignificant to do anything to stop the machine called the state. And he stands here, his current situation rooted in this very country he believes to be wrong.

Any transformation requires time to mature.

"Don't think so much."

At that moment, old Ivan offered him a cigarette, then suddenly patted his shoulder gently and comfortingly, saying:

"You're still on vacation, so you don't have any tasks to do. You just need to enjoy your life. Think about the rest of your worries later... It's normal for young people to have some ideas."

"As for your question, I'll answer it for you."

"What one believes in doesn't matter. People live for themselves, as long as they maintain a basic level of loyalty."

Old Ivan finished speaking, a cigarette dangling from his lips, and slowly left. The entrance to the Great Hall of the People was bustling with people, making it unsuitable for long conversations, let alone such a delicate topic.

These words were just idle chatter between the two of them.

Old Ivan wouldn't tell anyone else, and He Ye naturally wouldn't say anything more either.

Watching the old smoker leave with his hands behind his back, I noticed that his figure had become somewhat bloated and overweight.

His black trench coat fluttered in the afternoon breeze, and He Ye wore a long black sword at his waist. His right hand rested on the junction of the scabbard and the blade. After a moment's hesitation, he slowly drew the sword.

The blade gleamed with a sharp, cold light.

He Ye gripped the hilt of the knife, its long, straight blade lying across his eyes. He could see that it was forged from tungsten steel, gleaming with a cold, bluish-gray light.

Even in the dim light, the blade displays forging patterns resembling frost flowers. Silently, it speaks of being more than just a work of art; it is a deadly weapon ready to be used in battle.

"Belief……"

He Ye gripped the hilt of the knife, feeling its immense weight. He wasn't a skilled swordsman, but he had learned a few techniques. With a mighty swing, the sharp blade whistled through the air, its cold gleam flashing...

Then it slowly retracted into its sheath, the blade locking tightly.

If He Ye had any faith, it would be world peace, but that contradicts his current situation. When that leader bestowed this long sword upon him, he probably hoped that He Ye would believe in his name and fight for him.

He Ye slowly closed her eyes, her confusion dissipating.

Even if there's nothing I can do right now, my beliefs are not about cruel war or arrogant nationalism. I hope the world can be peaceful, peaceful enough that, with sufficient social productivity, bread and milk can be distributed to everyone, instead of rotting and being dumped into rivers.

The faith that was previously unclear became clear, and He Ye walked down the steps, his eyes still clear.

The long sword appeared to be unsheathed, worn at the waist.

His black stand-up collar concealed half of his face, and his imposing appearance inspired awe in many. His long sword and medal were the envy of others, representing a high status and honor.

Until he stood in front of the car that had been waiting for him.

He Ye's fingers traced the two characters engraved on the hilt of the sword. For some reason, he had a premonition that this long sword would one day pierce his chest.

Standing still, I looked back at the Great Hall of the People, gazing up at it as I did when I arrived in the morning.

"Please take me home," He Ye said softly.

"Yes, sir!"

The car door opened, and the driver waited respectfully for him to take his seat.

(End of this chapter)