In Chap­ter 35 of Moth­er Night, Camp­bell finds him­self con­front­ed by Wirta­nen, who reveals the deep lay­ers of decep­tion sur­round­ing his rela­tion­ship with Hel­ga. Wirta­nen explains that Hel­ga’s true mis­sion was to make Camp­bell fall in love with her, a rev­e­la­tion that stirs com­plex emo­tions in Camp­bell. He bit­ter­ly acknowl­edges the manip­u­la­tion behind their con­nec­tion, real­iz­ing that his love for her was nev­er gen­uine but part of a larg­er plan orches­trat­ed by exter­nal forces. This moment brings up fur­ther ques­tions about Helga’s actions, specif­i­cal­ly regard­ing a suit­case she car­ried con­tain­ing Camp­bel­l’s col­lect­ed works. These works, once cher­ished by Camp­bell as per­son­al cre­ations, were, in fact, used as tools for her mis­sion, adding anoth­er lay­er of betray­al and dis­il­lu­sion­ment to his expe­ri­ence. This real­iza­tion forces Camp­bell to con­front the depth of the manip­u­la­tion, mak­ing him ques­tion his own agency and the true nature of his rela­tion­ships.

Wirta­nen goes on to explain that Camp­bel­l’s man­u­scripts, once thought to be lost or destroyed, were actu­al­ly not in Berlin dur­ing the fall of the city. Instead, they had been tak­en to Moscow, where they were found by Stepan Bodovskov. Bodovskov, a cor­po­ral who spoke flu­ent Ger­man, dis­cov­ered Campbell’s writ­ings almost by chance while scav­eng­ing in the ruins of post-war Berlin. Rec­og­niz­ing the val­ue in these works, Bodovskov took it upon him­self to trans­late Campbell’s poems, which quick­ly gained recog­ni­tion and acclaim. This unex­pect­ed turn of events leaves Camp­bell both amazed and hor­ri­fied, as his works, which he had nev­er intend­ed to be seen, are now cel­e­brat­ed by an audi­ence he nev­er imag­ined. The sto­ry of how his works were revived and trans­formed into a cul­tur­al phe­nom­e­non is both iron­ic and trag­ic, as Camp­bell grap­ples with the fact that his cre­ations have been tak­en out of his hands and used in ways he nev­er intend­ed.

Wirta­nen con­tin­ues by dis­cussing the suc­cess of Bodovskov’s adap­ta­tion of Campbell’s play The Gob­let, which became a major hit in Russ­ian the­ater. This play, which Camp­bell had writ­ten years before, is now com­pared to the clas­sic com­e­dy Charley’s Aunt, a com­par­i­son that sur­pris­es him. As Wirta­nen describes the play’s suc­cess, Camp­bell is struck by the irony and absur­di­ty of it all, espe­cial­ly since he nev­er envi­sioned his work tak­ing on such a life of its own. The play’s themes, cen­tered around puri­ty, love, and the pur­suit of an unat­tain­able ide­al, seem almost prophet­ic in light of the cur­rent sit­u­a­tion. The nar­ra­tive, which once seemed like a per­son­al explo­ration, now feels dis­tant and out of his con­trol, espe­cial­ly as it’s being cel­e­brat­ed by peo­ple like Stal­in and oth­er promi­nent fig­ures in Russ­ian soci­ety. This sud­den acclaim for his work, a stark con­trast to his pre­vi­ous expe­ri­ences, forces Camp­bell to reflect on the impact of his cre­ations and the unin­tend­ed con­se­quences of his artis­tic lega­cy.

As Wirta­nen reveals more about the fate of Camp­bel­l’s writ­ings, the pro­tag­o­nist learns that Bodovskov went on to pub­lish Mem­oirs of a Monog­a­mous Casano­va, a con­tro­ver­sial book based on Campbell’s per­son­al expe­ri­ences. This book, despite its con­tro­ver­sial con­tent, was pub­lished in Budapest and found suc­cess, even though it could not be pub­lished open­ly in Rus­sia due to cen­sor­ship. Clev­er­ly bypass­ing these restric­tions, the book became a cov­et­ed item for young cou­ples, spark­ing curios­i­ty and intrigue among those who came across it. This under­ground suc­cess high­lights the unin­tend­ed cul­tur­al influ­ence of Campbell’s work, show­ing how his per­son­al life and writ­ings have tak­en on a life of their own, far beyond his ini­tial inten­tions. The irony of the book’s pop­u­lar­i­ty, along with the illic­it ways it was dis­trib­uted, deep­ens Campbell’s sense of detach­ment from his own iden­ti­ty. He is left grap­pling with the com­plex­i­ty of fame, anonymi­ty, and the con­se­quences of being part of a sys­tem that has twist­ed his orig­i­nal inten­tions.

The chap­ter clos­es with Camp­bell reflect­ing on the absur­di­ty of the sit­u­a­tion, espe­cial­ly when he con­sid­ers the illus­tra­tions that accom­pa­nied Mem­oirs of a Monog­a­mous Casano­va. These images, which were meant to add anoth­er lay­er of depth to the book, only fur­ther com­pli­cate Campbell’s com­plex feel­ings about his artis­tic lega­cy. On the one hand, he is dis­turbed by the com­mer­cial­iza­tion and dis­tor­tion of his work, but on the oth­er hand, he can­not deny the sense of pride that comes with the recog­ni­tion, even if it is no longer in his con­trol. The dark humor with which he reflects on his fame—fame that he nev­er sought—serves as a poignant com­men­tary on the unpre­dictable nature of artis­tic lega­cy and the ways in which the world can trans­form a creator’s work into some­thing unrec­og­niz­able. This final reflec­tion under­scores the themes of loss and iden­ti­ty that run through­out the nov­el, illus­trat­ing how the protagonist’s per­son­al and artis­tic jour­ney has been hijacked by the very forces he once fought against.