Chapter 21
Chapter 21
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 21
Chapter Title: Dixie's Makeover
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A faint bluish dawn crept up to the side of Beth's bed.
Beth hadn't slept a wink all night, tossing and turning, and the exhaustion under her eyes was darker than the morning light. She moved stealthily, careful not to wake the others who had just returned from night shifts.
In truth, there wasn't much to prepare.
She simply swapped her usual worn nurse's uniform for an equally shabby dress and threw on a drab brown coat. Thanks to her meticulous nature, the clothes were frayed but clean, carrying a faint scent of soap.
"Mmm, Beth... where are you going?"
Dixie, who shared the bed next to hers, rubbed her eyes and asked. Beth paused what she was doing and quickly opened the notebook within reach.
[Sorry. I have to go out this morning.]
"Out? By yourself?"
Should she mention going with Duke Dever?
Quick-witted Dixie didn't miss Beth's momentary hesitation. Her sleepy eyes suddenly narrowed sharply.
"What? That's suspicious."
Beth waved her hands frantically. Rather than risk fueling wild guesses with a needless lie, it might be better to tell the truth. Dixie wouldn't misunderstand things between her and Duke Dever.
[Going with Duke Dever. The Duchess asked me to.]
"What? Dever?!"
Unfortunately, Beth still didn't know her friend all that well. Dixie shot upright in bed as if she hadn't been drowsy at all moments before.
An outing with Duke Dever? The Duchess occasionally allowed the nurses to go out for some fresh air, but when was the last time? As the frontline situation worsened, they had become more and more isolated.
Beth hurriedly scribbled on her notepad as an odd glint flashed in Dixie's ruby-red eyes.
[It's work!]
Dixie barely glanced at the note before pulling out the basket from under her bed. The reason didn't matter. Something fun was happening for the first time in ages—she wasn't about to miss it.
"A date. It's a date."
No matter how much Beth thrust the notebook at her while Dixie hummed a tune and rummaged through her clothes, Dixie just waved her off dismissively.
"Okay, okay. It's work. I'll call it work."
Expensive outfits that didn't suit the shabby beds poured out one after another.
Aines had once scolded Dixie about her luggage, asking why on earth she'd brought such things, but Dixie had always shot back that they soothed her mind and body better than whiskey.
"Take that off right now."
This was exactly what she'd been saving it for. Dixie handed over a white silk dress with a satisfied grin. The lace-embroidered bodice looked like it would suit Beth perfectly at a glance.
After some hesitation, Beth gave in to Dixie's insistence and reluctantly changed.
The fabric was too soft, feeling awkward against her skin. The silhouette that hugged her curves was embarrassing too.
"Hmm, it makes you look too pale since your skin's so fair. Try this."
This time, she offered a black velvet dress. Tiny silver gems dotted the sleeves and collar like stars in the night sky. Beth idly wondered if they were real jewels, but given Dixie's family—rising tycoons in Wayne—it was entirely possible.
Unfamiliar with such clothes, Beth kept fidgeting all over.
"Perfect! I splurged on it, and it suits you to a tee."
Beth caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, and her face flushed bright red in an instant.
The knee-length dress, unlike its somber color, revealed her figure without filter. It clung more than the white silk one she'd just tried on, but she hadn't expected this much. Compared to it, the silk dress felt like a nun's habit.
Beth quickly undid the buttons. How could she meet that man in something like this?
Dixie, meanwhile, looked disappointed.
"It was really pretty. Well, maybe it's too much for you. Then..."
The rundown nurses' dorm was turning into a Wayne boutique before her eyes.
Dixie dug through the pile of clothes.
"This one! It'll be perfect for you."
The final offering resembled Beth's nurse uniform but in a deeper sky blue. The pearl buttons fastened neatly up to the neckline, complementing her translucent face beautifully.
"Good lord. All the others were just openers for this one."
Dixie clapped silently with a playful grin.
"Finally found its owner. Take it."
Startled, Beth hurriedly undid the buttons. With a small sigh, Dixie gently refastened them herself, as if scolding her.
"I hate prim clothes like this. Aren't we friends? Or were we just pretending? You won't even accept this from a friend?"
Dixie pulled an exaggerated pout. It was a cute bit of cunning—she knew exactly which of her friend's soft spots to poke.
Seeing Beth waver, Dixie swiftly changed the subject.
"You're not planning to throw that dead oak tree of a coat over it, right?"
She snatched the now-demoted "dead oak tree" coat and handed over a navy cape coat instead. It was similar to the one Raphaelle had worn recently.
"Even the rude princess wore one like this. I bought mine a year ago, and it's still in fashion. My eye never fails."
As she removed Beth's plain black hairpin, ebony hair cascaded softly over her shoulders like waves. Beth finally gave up her stubbornness and let her friend take over.
While Dixie busied herself styling her hair, Beth stared at her own idle hands.
Sometimes, she felt powerless about her inability to speak—like last night.
In the middle of that unfamiliar barracks as darkness fell, everything blurring around her, no one to help. If only she could have screamed.
She gripped her nails into her opposite palm. The brief white mark from her grip faded back to normal.
No matter how many times she wrote on the duke's rough hand, her delicate fingers left no trace. Just like now.
Did that man, with his impassive face oblivious to her fragile heart and those eyes saying he didn't understand—did he know how much she resented him?
Whether the tears that nearly welled up then were from self-pity or the sting of his harsh gaze like smoke, even now she couldn't tell.
While Beth was lost in thought, Dixie finished her hair and added a light tint of lipstick to her small lips, bringing them to life.
One might wonder why bother dolling up in a battlefield hospital, but Dixie had known Beth since nursing school, and she'd always dressed more than plainly—practically shabby. Dixie had gifted her clothes, shoes, and accessories, but the stubbornly proper girl always left them in one corner of her dorm room. It had always irked Dixie that she couldn't help her perpetually weary-looking friend.
With a heart full of satisfaction, Dixie held up a mirror to Beth.
Beth shone like a lily blooming in early winter.
"If I were Duke Dever, I'd propose to you today."
Dever and a proposal?
The utterly mismatched pairing made Beth burst into laughter despite herself. It was the first smile on her face since arriving at the outpost—a rare sight.
Meanwhile, Dever had arrived early at the nurses' dorm and was waiting for Beth to emerge. Under that same window where he'd stood the night before last and last night.
The window was already half-open when he arrived—perhaps she'd been awake early too. Having come ahead of time, Dever simply waited in silence. His sleepless eyelids ached.
He'd tricked the women and stolen sedatives, so even his usual dose was plenty. As always, he could just wash it down with liquor. No guilt over the deception, of course.
Yet for some reason, he wondered if he should honor that promise for just one day.
'I want to quit the drugs.'
That brazen lie of hers, so natural he couldn't hide his scoff even as he said it.
Chattering voices drifted through the open window slit. They couldn't be Beth's.
How did that woman laugh? Unable to speak, did she even make laughing sounds?
Idle questions floated into Dever's bored mind.
If she wasn't in sight, could he even find her?
He couldn't. A woman who couldn't make a peep.
If she deliberately hid somewhere.
If she vanished.
Once the thought surfaced, it spiraled on.
Vanished. He mulled over the final word.
Battlefield hospitals saw frequent turnover unless someone like Aines had ironclad resolve to endure with her fiancé. Those who came with Madam Molly had stuck around longer than most.
Truth be told, Beth disappearing wouldn't surprise anyone. After all her bad luck, if she packed up one morning and fled back to Wayne, everyone might even understand.
"Gasp! The duke's here!"
The stair creaks that had so irritated him echoed from beyond the thin door.
And soon, the source of all his swirling questions poked her face out. When she showed no sign of coming fully, someone shoved her from behind—Beth stumbled forward, bouncing right into Dever's path.
Dever's gaze slowly raked over Beth.
The notion that average men miss a woman's subtle changes didn't apply to him. Observing, memorizing, detecting—it was the lifelong trade of the imperial army's commander, and he spotted Beth's differences with ghostly precision.
Unlike usual, her hair fell loose to her chest, fluttering in the breeze. The gentle waves accentuated her slender frame. Her lips, warmed with a soft glow rather than bloodied from the operating table, caught his eye too.
Beth fidgeted with her fingertips under Dever's predatory stare, like a beast licking its prey.
They planned to ride about half an hour to a small rural village. Though untargeted so far, precautions were necessary. Shedding uniforms for civilian clothes helped sell the disguise—essential for survival.
Dever himself wore a sharply tailored leather coat favored by Wayne nobles, not his crisp military uniform, and dress shoes instead of boots.
Right now, he was the perfect Duke Dever, not Commander Dever.
Anyone seeing him would bow, Cliff family or not—he exuded a different kind of intimidation without the soldier's garb.
The man offered his arm, slightly bent.
Beth's clear eyes, full of questions, met his.
"Grant me the honor of escorting you."
'Have a great date.'
Dixie's whisper from behind the door echoed in her ears.