author perspective
The air in the drawing-room was thick with the scent of expensive tobacco and quiet conspiracy. Across the polished marble table, the man sat in pristine silence, his hands neatly folded over a gray wool suit that bore not a single crease. He spoke with the detached, clinical cadence of a historian recounting a war long finished.
"Rotman was anything but an ordinary man in the Republic," he murmured, his sharp eyes catching the amber glow of the chandelier. "His organization had close ties with several high-ranking officials in the Republic, so his death caused a massive upheaval."
The woman sitting opposite him did not move. Her long, pale hair cascaded down her back like spun silk, a stark contrast to the heavy, rigid gold molding that lined the palace walls. She listened, her profile cast in shadow, absorbing the dangerous geometry of the political vacuum Rotman had left behind.
"It put Friedrich's life and position in serious danger as well," the man continued, his tone dropping an octave.
The woman tilted her head slightly, her gaze fixed entirely on her companion. Convincing Friedrich and finding a way to get him out were never going to be easy, she thought, the sheer scale of the gamble weighing heavily in her chest. Yet, as she looked at the man before her-flawless, calculating, and perfectly positioned-she knew the pieces were falling into place. But at the time, Friedrich matched my requirements perfectly, so I couldn't give up on him.
"In the end," the man said, leaning forward just a fraction, "after a long time had passed, we managed to get Friedrich out with the help of the vice minister, who had connections in the Republic." A cold, transactional smile flickered across his face. "In return for helping him seek asylum in the Kingdom, we had him approach Serena."
The transition from the gilded halls of the Republic to the dark underbelly of their operation had been seamless, but for the man caught in the crosshairs, the reality was painted in blood.
Far from the pristine marble tables, in a subterranean cell lit only by the violent, flickering orange hue of a distant torch, Friedrich leaned against a damp brick wall. His chest heaved.
Huff... Huff...
His white shirt, once crisp, was torn to shreds, stained deeply with dirt and fresh crimson blooms where the Republic's enforcers had left their mark. Strands of dark hair fell across his face, but beneath the grime and the swelling bruises, his green eyes burned with an icy, unyielding defiance.
A shadow fell over him. The Republic's lead investigator stepped into the cell, his suit immaculate, looking down at Friedrich with a mixture of pity and frustration.
"Friedrich! This is your last chance!" the man bellowed, his voice echoing off the cold stone. "If you keep this up, you're really going to die!"
Friedrich didn't blink. The blood trickling down his jaw didn't matter. The threats didn't matter.
"Doesn't it feel meaningless to die here like this?" the investigator pressed, stepping closer, desperately searching for a flicker of fear in the prisoner's eyes.
But Friedrich knew what the man in the drawing-room knew. If he stayed in the Republic, he was a dead man walking anyway. His only currency left was his silence, and his only path forward lay in the hands of the woman waiting in the shadows of the Kingdom-and the inevitable, dangerous intersection with Serena.
The dampness of the cell clung to Friedrich's skin like a second shroud. Above him, the stone walls seemed to lean inward, heavy with the memory of the men who had bled out on this very floor.
The investigator stepped closer, his polished shoes crunching against the grit. "Have you forgotten all the corpses you've had to clean up ever since you entered this place as a child?" the man asked, his voice cutting through the humid chill. "Do you want to leave the same way?"
Friedrich spat blood onto the stones, his golden-green eyes flashing in the dim torchlight. He didn't flinch. He had outlived men twice his size in these shadows, and he wasn't about to let intimidation break his resolve now.
"I cannot accept being sent to the kingdom without knowing who these people are or why they want me there," Friedrich ground out, his voice raw but steady. "This isn't the first or second time I've gone through something like this."
The investigator let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh, throwing his hands up in frustration. To him, Friedrich's stubbornness wasn't bravery-it was madness.
"Whether I'm used and discarded like a stray dog, or die here, what's the difference?" the man hissed, leaning in until Friedrich could smell the stale coffee on his breath. "They're offering an enormous amount of money! And it's all paid in advance! The amount is unbelievable! Have you ever seen anything like this? You couldn't earn that much even if you worked here your entire life!"
"It's not about the money...!" Friedrich snapped, his fists tightening against his constraints.
"I know, I know. You're suspicious by nature," the investigator countered, his tone abruptly shifting to a soothing, manipulative drawl. "But this time it's different. Don't you think I questioned it too when the payment was that high? I checked over and over. Their methods are clean, and they're willing to pay that much in advance without asking us to do anything dirty."
The man paced the length of the cell, gesturing wildly into the dark.
A noble young lady in the Kingdom, known only by the initial "S".
A forged identity to infiltrate her estate as a personal guard.
Infiltrate the inner circle and retrieve a single, highly classified item.
"It's nothing for someone like you," the man urged, his eyes gleaming with avarice. "You'll save your life, and we'll both make a fortune! I am telling you, they're not dangerous people!"
"They're no different from Rotman," Friedrich muttered, a cold disgust settling deep in his chest. "You know perfectly well that people who buy and sell others through brokers can never be normal. The fact that they're using a broker just to hire an ordinary guard already makes their intentions suspicious. And the thought of planting me there as a spy makes me sick."
The investigator's face contorted, his patience finally shattering into absolute fury. He lunged forward, his voice rising to a venomous roar that echoed off the brickwork.
"You bastard, have you even thought about your parents?!"
The words struck Friedrich harder than any fist could. His breath hitched, his defiance faltering for a fraction of a second.
"They still don't know what happened to Lise, do they?!" the man shouted, pressing the advantage as he saw Friedrich's shoulders tense. "Lise is already gone, and now you're all they have left. Are you really going to throw your life away over someone like Rotman?! If something happens to you too, do you really think your parents will be able to bear it?"
Silence fell over the cell, heavy and suffocating. Friedrich let his head drop, his gaze staring blankly at the dirt-streaked floor. The mention of his sister's name felt like a knife twisted in an old wound. The investigator stood over him, breathing heavily, waiting for the reality of the threat to sink into the young guard's mind.
The damp air of the stone chamber pressed heavily against Friedrich's bruised skin. He leaned his back against the rough wall, his breath hitching as a gentle but firm hand dropped onto his shoulder.
"...Haa, Friedrich," the older man sighed, the exhaustion bleeding through his deep voice. The investigator-or rather, the only man in this bleak place who still seemed to look out for him-crouched down to Friedrich's level, his own face lined with concern and etched with the scars of a harsh life.
"Let's leave for now. That's the right choice. You have to survive first, all right? I'll take care of the rest."
Friedrich kept his head lowered, the dark strands of his hair curtaining his eyes from the flickering torchlight. Every muscle in his body burned from the interrogation, yet the weight of the man's words settled heavier than any physical blow. Survival was a currency he had traded in since childhood, but it always came at a price.
"There are still plenty of officials on your side," the man urged quietly, his hand squeezing Friedrich's shoulder to ground him. "Go to the Kingdom and wait until things settle down. It won't be too late."
When Friedrich didn't answer, the silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Finally, a note of raw desperation cracked the man's stoic composure.
"Please. I'm begging you."
The dark silhouette of the border trees loomed against the night sky, their dry branches rustling like skeletal fingers in the wind. The memory of that desperate plea echoed in Friedrich's mind with every heavy step he took into the wilderness.
Filled with disgust and hatred...
He hadn't left out of ambition or fear for his own skin. It was the sheer, suffocating revulsion toward the system that bound him. Every step away from the Republic was a step away from a rot that threatened to consume his soul. Yet, fleeing didn't bring peace. The anger burned white-hot beneath his ribs, a silent companion as he crossed the border.
The transition from the wild, dark frontier to the structured elegance of the Kingdom felt like stepping into an entirely different world-yet the shadows here felt exactly the same.
And eventually, I ended up outside your room.
Friedrich stood in the softly lit corridor of the grand estate, the marble floors beneath his combat boots stark and unyielding. The plush warmth of the hallway did nothing to thaw the icy determination gripping his chest. He looked down at the heavy wooden double doors before him, the intricate gold molding glittering under the gas lamps.
That's right. It's just a simple mission.
Friedrich closed his eyes for a brief second, centering his thoughts, forcing his pulse to slow. He had to compartmentalize. He wasn't a man fleeing a broken past; he was a tool assigned to a task.
Find the item... and leave. As quickly as possible.
His hand moved forward, his leather-gloved fingers hovering just over the polished brass doorknob. As I reached for the doorknob, I found myself wondering.
He paused, a sudden, intrusive thought flashing through his mind. What kind of woman would be inside?
His golden-green eyes narrowed slightly as he peered through the tiny crack of the slightly ajar door. The opulence of the room beyond was sickeningly familiar.
Would she be a vicious woman, like a giant serpent?
He couldn't help the cynicism that stained his thoughts. I'd seen far too many people like that in the Republic. People no different from Rotman, who bought and treated human beings like animals. Images flashed unbidden in his mind-the high-society galas of the Republic's elite, men and women dripping in diamonds and silk, laughing boisterously with champagne glasses raised, their eyes completely hollow, hiding twisted hearts beneath extravagant appearances. To them, lives were just playthings. He expected nothing less from the noblewoman waiting behind this door.
So no matter what her circumstances were-
"You'll understand once you read this newspaper article," a voice from his final briefing echoed back to him, shattering his reverie. The memory of the broker handing him a crisp, folded piece of print under the streetlights returned. "It explains S's situation from every angle."
Friedrich gripped the doorknob firmly. Whatever twisted game Lady "S" was playing, and whatever tragic or horrific truth the papers claimed to hold, he would find out the moment he turned the lock.
With a soft, metallic click, the door began to swing open.
The brass lock gave way with a muted, tragic click. Friedrich braced his shoulders, his mind still poisoned by the warnings of the broker and the deep-seated cynicism he carried from the Republic. He expected a viper. He expected a cold, calculating noblewoman draped in stolen wealth, perhaps sitting behind a mahogany desk sipping tea while plotting her next move. He assumed she couldn't be any different from the rest-vicious, manipulative, and rotten to the core.
"My greetings," he said, stepping into the space, his voice measured, precise, and completely stripped of warmth. "My name is Friedrich Bloom."
The heavy door swung fully open, and the grand world he thought he understood suddenly vanished.
There was no light. The opulent gas lamps of the corridor cast only a narrow, geometric blade of illumination across the floor, cutting through a thick, suffocating darkness. The room was freezing, stripped of the life that wealth was supposed to buy.
Back then, he could never have imagined what lay waiting for him in the shadows.
The woman surrounded by so many rumors-the sole surviving daughter of the Serenity family-was not sitting on a throne of malice. Instead, she was curled up tightly in a pitch-black corner of the room, looking impossibly small. She wore nothing but a thin, pale nightgown that offered no protection against the ambient chill.
When she tilted her head upward, the dim light caught her face. Friedrich's breath caught in his throat. Her pale skin was framed by chaotic, dark hair, but it was her eyes that stopped him dead in his tracks. They were completely lifeless, glassy and hollow, staring forward as though she were already dead. She looked exactly like a lost kitten, abandoned in a cold, dark corner, quietly waiting for the end to come.
Then, she spoke. It wasn't a command. It wasn't a threat.
"While you're here, please be on my side," she whispered, her voice fragile enough to break under the weight of the silence. "As if you exist solely for me."
Friedrich stood frozen. It wasn't an order born from high-society conspiracies, political schemes, or desperate, grasping ambitions. It was simply a plea-a raw, naked cry asking for someone, anyone, to stand by her side.
In that single, shattering moment, everything he had expected fell completely apart.
Years have a way of blurring the sharpest edges of memory, yet that first night remained etched into his mind like a scar.
Standing in the quiet winter courtyard much later, the snow fell in massive, silent flakes around them. Friedrich wore a heavy, dark coat, his hands clasped behind his back as he stared blankly into the distance. The world felt quiet, enveloped in a bitter cold that he had long grown accustomed to. Yet, the emptiness inside him felt different now-less like a shield, and more like an open space waiting to be filled.
A soft tug at his sleeve broke through his thoughts. A gloved hand, trimmed with pure white fur, pressed against his shoulder.
"Friedrich, Friedrich!"
He turned his head slowly, his sharp profile cutting through the falling snow.
"Look at this!"
Serena stood beside him, her long, dark curls dusted with white crystals. The lifeless, hollow girl from the dark room was entirely gone. Her cheeks were flushed a brilliant, lively pink against the winter frost, and her eyes sparkled with a vibrant, breathless joy. She held up a single gloved finger, balancing a perfectly formed, massive crystal of ice.
"It's such a huge snowflake!" she laughed, a radiant, genuine smile breaking across her face-a smile that seemed to challenge the very grayness of the sky. "Isn't it beautiful?"
Friedrich looked from the snowflake to her face, the faint warmth of a distant sun finally breaking through the ice in his own chest. Back when he had first turned that brass doorknob, he had never imagined that feeling of emptiness and unfamiliarity would one day lead to this.
serena
present
The breathtaking clarity of the winter courtyard, where the falling snow danced around Serena's luminous smile, felt like a lifetime away from the heavy suffocating silence that now pressed against her bedroom walls. The massive, beautiful snowflake she had held out to Friedrich was a fleeting memory of light.
Now, the light was entirely gone.
An old, ornate book lay open on the patterned carpet, its pages exposed to the dim, muted atmosphere of the chamber. It had dropped from numb fingers-a heavy, undeniable weight.
...The diary Victor left behind.
Serena stood hunched over a nearby table, her long dark hair cascading over her shoulders like a shroud, veiling her face as her breath came in fractured, ragged gasps. Huff... Huff... Every lungful of air felt like inhaling broken glass.
My hands are trembling so badly, and my heart won't calm down enough for me to focus on the words.
She pressed her palms flat against the fabric of the table, her knuckles whitening as she fought the violent tremors racking her frame. She didn't want to read it. She wanted to close her eyes and pretend the book didn't exist, that the ink on those worn pages hadn't forever altered the fabric of her reality.
But at the very least, there are things written here that only Lise and I could have known.
The familiar golden filigree on the cover was an indictment. The intimate secrets detailed within the elegant script left no room for denial, no comforting lies to retreat into.
That's why I know this is Lise's real diary. It can't possibly be fake.
Slowly, the strength drained from her legs. Serena collapsed onto the floor, her knees sinking into the thick carpet right beside the open journal. Her hands curled into tight, desperate fists against the fabric, as if she could anchor herself to the earth while her world spun out of control.
A memory, cold and unyielding, drifted to the surface of her fractured mind.
...What you said to me on the beach at Atiazen...
The phantom sound of crashing waves echoed in her ears, overlaying the grim stillness of her room. The phantom voice of a ghost from her past spoke across the water, carrying a warning she had long tried to bury.
The thing you said I'd hear someday, whether I wanted to or not... was this what you meant?
She stared down at the floor, the realization taking root in the deepest recesses of her chest, bringing with it a sickening, hollow despair. The diary held the key to the ultimate betrayal, stripping away the fragile peace she had fought so desperately to build.
How my family...
The words hung in the silence, unsaid but devastatingly understood.
...ended up dying...
A shadow fell across the threshold of the memory. Friedrich stood in the quiet darkness, his sharp profile caught in the dim light, his lips pressed into a grim, silent line. He said nothing, his green eyes veiled in an inscrutable darkness as the truth finally laid bare the bloody foundations of the Serenity family's demise.
The dark silhouette standing over her did not move. Friedrich's uniform felt imposing, a grim monument of duty in the dim green light of the study.
"...Huh? Tell me."
Serena's voice broke, stripped of the grace she usually wore like armor. She tilted her face upward, tears carving hot, agonizing paths down her pale cheeks. Her dark eyes, once filled with vibrant joy in the winter snow, were wide with an unspeakable terror.
"How..."
She choked on the words, clutching the fabric of the low table as she knelt on the patterned carpet.
"How am I supposed to accept any of this?"
The silent man stood there, the gold buttons of his uniform catching the faint light. He remained agonizingly mute, a phantom executioner of her peace.
"I can't understand a single part of it," she whispered into the vacuum of the room. "No, I don't even want to."
Like a drowning woman, her mind pulled pieces of the past to the surface, weaving them into a horrific tapestry. The pages of the diary had unlocked memories she had never questioned, cast now in a sickening, ghastly light.
Images flashed before her eyes-phantom projections born from the ink. She saw a younger version of herself beside a stern, white-haired woman. She saw a man holding a letter, his expression dark and calculated. This is the truth?
Another phantom rose-a beautiful woman with a gentle smile, standing before a grand horse-drawn carriage. This really...
Then, the agonizingly sweet voice of her mother drifted through the void of her memory: "Then I'll buy my daughter her favorite flower soap~ I'll pick out the prettiest one!"
The innocence of that memory shattered against the cold, unyielding present. The ghost of her mother's smile vanished, swallowed by the dark green shadows of the room.
"...Is reality?"
Friedrich finally spoke, his voice dropping into the heavy silence like a lead weight.
"..."
His hand, hidden slightly beneath his uniform sleeve, clenched into a tight, strained fist.
"...I only hoped... that you'd never find out."
"NO!"
Serena's scream pierced the grand, vaulted chamber, echoing against the massive, dark panes of the towering windows. The storm outside was a silent backdrop to the violence tearing through the room.
"It would've been better if I'd heard it from you!"
She remained collapsed on the floor, looking impossibly small against the sprawling, intricate patterns of the carpet. Friedrich stood several paces away, a rigid, military silhouette anchored to the floor, his back straight but his posture carrying the invisible weight of a man who had chosen a devastating secrecy.
"You knew Lise, you knew me," she wept, her voice trembling with the sting of the ultimate betrayal. "And even if you only found out about this diary later..."
The distance between them felt vast, a yawning chasm carved by years of unspoken truths and the blood of the Serenity family. The thaw they had found in the courtyard was gone, replaced by a winter far colder than any snow could bring.
"You knew Lise, you knew me," Serena's voice serrated the heavy air, a desperate plea masquerading as an accusation. "And even if you only found out about this diary later, it would've been better if you had told me yourself!"
Logic, cold and rational, tried to anchor her drifting mind. Deep down, beneath the crushing weight of the revelation, a small voice whispered a painful truth.
I know none of this is Friedrich's fault.
He hadn't written the diary. He hadn't spun the web of tragedy that had claimed her family. Yet, the emotional whiplash left her raw and bleeding.
"Why did I have to learn this from Victor..." she breathed, the very name tasting like ash on her tongue.
But right now, I can't bear any of it.
To have the fragile fabric of her reality torn apart by the person she least expected, the man who had always loomed like a shadow in the periphery of her life-it was a cruel, twisted joke.
"Of all people, Victor...!"
She turned her face toward the towering, arched windows, where a sudden flash of lightning illuminated the absolute despair etched into her features. Tears clung to her lashes, shimmering in the sporadic, violent light of the storm outside.
"Of all people, why did I have to hear it from him?"
Her fingers dug ruthlessly into the thick, patterned carpet, her knuckles going white as she anchored herself against the emotional tempest racking her body.
Even if what you did was the best you could do...
Right now, it's too painful for me.
The silence from the beach at Atiazen returned to haunt her, the phantom scent of salt and sea mixing with the stifling air of the study.
"...You should've told me that day at the beach."
She looked back toward the rigid, green-clad figure of the man standing over her. The betrayal wasn't just in the truth itself, but in the months of silence that had followed it.
"If you knew there was a chance I'd find out someday...!"
A violent crash of thunder shook the very foundations of the estate, rattling the glass panes and echoing through the vast, dark corners of the room. The lightning flared again, casting sharp, jagged shadows across the floor.
How can something so horrible possibly be real?
The question hung in the air, unanswered by the man who stood before her like an unyielding stone wall. Serena's breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, her hand still desperately gripping the carpet as if trying to tear the truth out of the fabric itself.
"What happened..." she choked out, forcing her gaze upward, demanding the final, agonizing pieces of the puzzle.
"...to Lise?"
The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, until Friedrich finally shifted. The dim, purple-and-green hue of the room caught the sharp, solemn lines of his face. His green eyes, usually so guarded, held a profound, hollow exhaustion.
He didn't look away from her. He couldn't.
"She died."
"On the day she wrote her final diary entry."
Friedrich's admission fell like a guillotine. The ambiguity of Lise's end dissolved into a single, terrifying timeline. Serena's eyes widened, the breath catching violently in her throat as the shock hit her with physical force. Her mind spun, the room tilting as the horrific weight of his words crashed over her.
The room grew dark at the edges. Her vision blurred, the pale green tones of the carpet swimming together in a dizzying haze. Her body, worn thin by grief and the sheer exhaustion of the truth, finally gave way. The floor rushed up to meet her.
"Lady Serena!!"
Friedrich's rigid composure broke in a single stride. The heavy leather of his boots struck the floor as he moved, catching her limp form before she could collapse against the hard wood.
"Lady Serena!"
He gathered her up against him, his gloved hands steadying her head, supporting the weight she could no longer carry. Serena's eyes fluttered open just a fraction, looking up through a haze of tears at the man holding her.
"Friedrich..." she whispered, her voice barely a thread, ragged and broken. "I..."
His jaw tightened, a muscle leaping in his cheek as he looked down at her. The distance he had kept for months dissolved into the quiet despair of his own voice.
"I never wanted to say something like this to you, but..."
He paused, the confession tearing out of him like glass.
"I think we're bound by a cruel fate."
The words pierced through her fading consciousness, sparkings a final, desperate surge of agony. She felt the warmth of his hand cradling her hair, the steady anchor of his chest, and it felt like a poison. The truth was too heavy, the silence too long, the pain too vast.
A weak, trembling sob escaped her lips. "Hic..."
She forced her eyes to meet his one last time, pouring the entirety of her shattered heart into the words.
"I wish I'd never seen you again."
She didn't want the comfort of his arms. She didn't want the tragic, fated bond he spoke of. If this was the reality they shared, she wanted no part of it.
"No... I wish we'd never met in the first place."
As darkness finally pulled her under, her last conscious thought drifted away, a desperate plea to undo everything they had built between them.
"I wish I'd never known you..."
"I wish I'd never known you..."
Serena's final, fractured whisper drifted into the heavy darkness of the study, carrying with it the bitter residue of a shattered reality. It was a declaration born not out of hatred, but out of absolute, suffocating exhaustion. The mere presence of the man holding her had become an agonizing reminder of the tragedy that bound them together.
"...And you'd never known me."
The rejection hung in the dim, purple-shadowed space between them, sharp and absolute. She wanted to erase every shared glance, every silent understanding, and every ounce of fragile trust they had painstakingly built. If their connection was entirely woven from the threads of a lie, she wanted to be unraveled from it completely.
Friedrich stood entirely rigid, his striking green eyes wide and fixed on her pale, slipping face. The harsh lines of his profile were illuminated by the faint, crimson light filtering into the room, revealing an expression stripped bare of his usual stoic armor. For a man who had survived through calculated discipline and emotional distance, her final words struck with the force of a fatal blow.
He didn't move. He didn't defend himself. He simply gathered her limp form closer, his dark gloved hand trembling slightly against the cascade of her dark hair.
The silence that followed was suffocating. He watched her long eyelashes finally flutter shut, her breathing shallow and uneven as consciousness entirely abandoned her. Her words remained, echoing off the high walls, leaving him alone in the wreckage of a truth he had desperately tried to protect her from.
The unbearable truth weighs down on her chest.
Even as darkness claimed her senses, the crushing weight did not dissipate; it settled deep into her bones, pressing the very air from her lungs. The revelation of Lise's final day acted like a violent anchor, dragging her backward through time, tearing away the fragile illusion of adulthood she had fought so hard to maintain.
As though she had been dragged back to that day when she was seventeen-
The sudden, violent grief was exactly the same. The helplessness, the terrifying realization that the world she knew had fundamentally fractured, rushed back to submerge her. The years she had lived since then vanished in an instant, leaving her raw, exposed, and utterly defenseless against the cold reality of her family's ruin.
Her pale hand slipped completely from his uniform, her fingers going loose and lifeless as they brushed against the floor.
"Lady Serena!"
Friedrich's desperate, low voice called out to her from somewhere far above the surface of her consciousness, but it couldn't reach her. She was already too deep within the abyss of her own mind.
It feels as though she's lost everything all over again.
The painful progress, the dynamic she had built with Friedrich, the small semblance of peace she had fought to claim-all of it shattered. In the quiet finality of her collapse, Serena was left completely destitute in spirit, buried once more beneath the ashes of the past.
팁
궁중 군사학교 생도들은 십 대 시절 엄격한 학업 및 군사 훈련을 받았습니다.
- 또한 어린 시절부터 감옥, 처형장, 심문실에서 일하며 국가의 업무가 어떻게 처리되는지 직접 배우며 훈련을 받았습니다.
Tip's
AS TEENAGERS, THE CADETS OF THE PALACE MILITARY ACADEMY UNDERWENT RIGOROUS ACADEMIC AND MILITARY TRAINING.
- THEY WERE ALSO TRAINED FROM AN EARLY AGE BY WORKING IN PRISONS, EXECUTION GROUNDS, AND INTERROGATION ROOMS, LEARNING FIRSTHAND HOW THE NATION'S AFFAIRS WERE CARRIED OUT,