The dirty-faced girl's expression brightened with a hint of joy. She nodded vigorously and said, "Thank you, sir, I will come back on time."
"And also, tell your foolish brother to behave himself," Viktor's gaze turned to the girl's face, continuing impassively, "If he keeps associating with Yuri and his men, he'll end up getting shot sooner or later. Perhaps today's fate for Sankovich will be his future outcome."
At this point, he seemed to remember something and pressed further, asking, "You were not aware of Sankovich's escape, were you?"
"Oh, no, I... I didn't know, I don't know anything," the girl jumped in fright, stuttering almost instinctively.
"Well, now you know," Viktor shrugged, saying, "He was executed, just over half an hour ago."
The girl shuddered, her lips, already pale from malnutrition, trembling as if shocked.
Sankovich was one of the three bodies found on the riverbank earlier. He escaped Shupenchkovo two days ago with two stolen pumpkins in tow, but unfortunately, he and his two companions seem to have gotten lost in the forest. After wandering for two days, they somehow circled back near Shupenchkovo and were caught by patrolling cavalry. So, three bullets turned these three unlucky souls into the three corpses on the riverbank.
"Alright, go clean up my Sergei," Viktor said calmly, patting the horse's rump. "Use warm water; it's been quite a ride today."
The girl obediently led the horse away, her tall yet slender figure appearing somewhat forlorn.
Ignoring the girl as she gradually disappeared, Viktor turned towards a nearby wooden cabin. As a senior figure in the camp, he had his own designated cabin, albeit just as basic as the others. However, with someone helping to keep it clean, it didn't appear too dilapidated or dirty.
The cabin was small, almost cramped, with poor lighting due to only a small window facing the sunny side. The entire room was dimly lit, dusty, giving it a somewhat oppressive atmosphere.
In addition to its simplicity, the room was sparsely furnished with only a handmade wooden single bed, a matching table, three basic chairs, and a stand holding a basin.
Interestingly, despite the simple furnishings, the walls were adorned with several items. Apart from colorful posters of comrades Lenin and Stalin, there was a map and various animal fur specimens.
Entering the room, Viktor took off his military cap and casually threw it on the table, where some documents were placed. He then unbuttoned the top two buttons of his uniform before walking over to the basin stand to wash his face.
Walking up to the crude small window, Viktor glanced outside through the window frame and saw a tank with a cylindrical turret driving past on the dirt road not far from the cabin. Smoke billowed from behind the tank, slowly dispersing.
It was a border guards' tank, not belonging to the internal security forces, as the NKVD's internal security units were not equipped with such heavy weaponry.
After drying his damp hands and casually placing the towel back on the stand, Viktor walked to the bed, squatting down to pull out two canvas bags from underneath. These canvas bags were standard issue for soldiers, dusty and bulging. He opened one of the bags, stretching its opening wide to see what was inside—a bag full of fresh, bright red apples.
In Shupenchkovo, where shortages were rampant, fruits like apples were a luxury among luxuries. In the shadowy transactions there, an apple could easily buy the company of a young and beautiful girl.
Of course, this scarcity applied only to the prisoners exiled there. As a senior officer in the internal security forces, Viktor received a weekly ration, including fruits.
Viktor took out four apples from the bag and placed them on the bed. After a moment's hesitation, he retrieved two and put them back into the bag. Finally, he tied up the bag again and held it along with the other bulging bag, placing them on the only table in the room.
With everything prepared, Viktor circled around to the back of the table, feeling somewhat weary as he sat down on the chair. He rested his feet clad in high boots on the table, leaned back against the chair's wooden spikes, and closed his eyes slightly. Before long, he began to lightly snore.
In his dreams, Viktor found himself back in a familiar time, racing along a smooth highway in a silver Land Rover under the rain. One hand gripped the steering wheel while the other stirred beneath the milky-white skirt of a girl seated beside him. Just as excitement peaked, a massive tire rolled down from above, crashing violently against the rain-slicked windshield. The scene before him swiftly dimmed...
After a moment, the scene brightened again, but the surroundings had changed drastically. Before Viktor was a decrepit wooden cabin where a middle-aged couple, their faces creased with wrinkles and dressed in tattered clothes, huddled in a corner. Beside them, two children around thirteen or fourteen years old embraced each other, crying loudly. Outside the cabin, rain poured heavily, and a frail girl was pressed against a shaky door frame by a burly man in military attire. His hand covered the girl's mouth, while his other hand aggressively tore at her skirt...
Rolling thunder rumbled through the scene.
In his dream, Viktor jolted awake with a start, abruptly awakened from his slumber. The glaring light made his head ache as he shielded his eyes with one hand. After a moment to adjust, the first thing he noticed was the two bags on the table.
These bags were meant for the girl from earlier. With these supplies, he believed it would provide her and her family some comfort for a while.
The girl's name was Alyona, a Belarusian whose full name was Alyona Antonovna Roskach. Originally from Rostov Oblast, her father was a technician at the Red October fertilizer plant in Rostov. In 1936, about three years ago, her family was exiled for ten years to Shupenchkovo due to involvement in a counter-revolutionary case, with the condition that they couldn't leave during this period.
Viktor harbored a profound secret—he wasn't originally from this world. He had only awakened in his current body a month ago due to an inexplicable reincarnation. During the initial two weeks, he struggled with a near-madness, behaving recklessly and absurdly. Everything he had seen in his dreams was his own firsthand experience.
Stretching and rising from the uncomfortable chair, Viktor took a deep breath. He walked past the table and approached the room's door. As he crossed the threshold, he noticed Alyona sitting on the porch outside, carefully mending a tattered little coat. It was clearly meant for a child, though he wasn't sure if it belonged to her brother or sister.
Hearing footsteps, Alyona hastily stood up. She laid the coat she was repairing on the porch railing and nervously clasped her hands in front of her abdomen, bowing her head slightly, too afraid to make eye contact with Viktor, who stood almost before her.
The girl, who won't turn eighteen for another month, was hired by Viktor with six potatoes a day. Her daily job is to take care of Sergei, the warhorse, and also to do some cleaning for Viktor.
Despite Viktor's drunken assault on her during a stormy night two weeks ago, she still dragged her injured body to the wooden house the next noon, numbly performing that almost humiliating job. As a convict in the exile of Sheptenchkovo, Anlina perhaps never considered how precious her chastity was, nor did she consider how heavy her dignity was. She only knew that six potatoes a day could keep her younger siblings alive, preventing them from starving to death on some morning or evening.
This job is very important to her.
"Valenka?!" Ignoring Anlina's timidity, Viktor strode down the corridor and shouted loudly from the lawn in front of the steps, "Valenka?!"
"Comrade Viktor Viktorovich," not far away, a young man in uniform hurried over, one hand pressing down his obviously oversized military cap, the other carrying a water jug. He shouted back loudly, "I'm here!"
"Go and see if lunch is ready yet!" Viktor didn't wait for the young man to approach before impatiently continuing, "Hurry up and bring me something to eat. I want bread, bread, you understand? Don't bring me those damn potatoes again."
"Alright, Comrade Viktor Viktorovich," the young man halted, shouted back, then turned and hurried off in another direction.
Watching the young man run off into the distance, Viktor finally turned his gaze towards the girl.
The girl had a standard oval face with perfect features, but at the moment, her face was dirty, smudged with both mud and the gray residue of cooking pots. Well, most young girls in exile looked like this—either ugly or dirty faces could really avoid a lot of trouble.
However, even with her face smeared like this, a closer look revealed her slender, delicate eyebrows, a straight nose, and even those pinkish-white lips, giving off a sense of delicate beauty. The only regret was that the girl's face was too thin, with sunken cheeks that marred that beauty.
"Let's have lunch first," Viktor said, his hand gently holding the girl's slender chin. His voice was devoid of any emotion. "After lunch, I'll take you back."