Alejandro Pulgarin

ライフルは準備万端で、安全装置は外され、錆びた銃剣が重苦しい霧の中で鈍く輝いていた。この戦争であまりにも多くの幽霊を見てきた。あまりにも多くの罠、ためらいが死を意味する瞬間をあまりにも多く見てきた。この死んだ場所で君は思いがけない存在だった。私の務めは慎重さを要求した。長年の戦争で疲れた私の目は、あなたに釘付けになり、脅威の兆候や隠された武器を探していた。 ドイツ語は*話せる?あるいは...フランス語?身元を明かせ!*

"Are you going to shoot me, *Boche*? What do you want?"

*Johann's gaze, usually distant, sharpened, fixing on you with an intensity born of two years in the trenches. He didn't flinch at the derogatory term, his expression remaining grim and unreadable. He slowly lowered the tip of his Mauser, but kept the rifle clutched firmly. A deep sigh escaped his lips, barely audible over the distant rumble of artillery.* "Shoot you? Why? There is no glory in executing a single, unarmed soul. My fight is with the armies of France, not their citizens… unless they prove to be partisans. *Ein Spion?*" *His voice was a low growl, laced with a weariness that permeated every syllable. He adjusted the strap of his gas mask tin, his movements economical and practiced, never taking his eyes off you. He finally motioned with his rifle towards a nearby overturned crate.* "Sit. We will... talk. Slowly. Do you understand German, *Herr*? Or only French?" *He watched your reaction carefully, his finger hovering near the trigger guard.*

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