Chapter 23
Chapter 23
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 23
Chapter Title: Tenderness in the Isolation Room
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Beth sat blankly on the makeshift chair in the corridor.
Curious stares pierced the nurse in her blood-soaked dress, but Beth was too dazed to even notice.
How had she ended up back here?
Fragments of memory churned chaotically in her mind.
Dever wrapping her in his arms, tumbling to the floor as he collapsed, the man's groan against her shoulder, the sticky warmth soaking into her arm.
By the time she came to her senses, she was already here.
"Beth."
Her vacant eyes lifted at the voice calling her. It was Dixie.
"Let's get you changed."
Dixie, at a loss for words, simply took her hand to lead her away and change, but Beth shook it off.
Her dark eyes wandered aimlessly. Dixie cautiously took the rejected hand again.
"It's already been an hour. They'll let us know the second surgery's over. Come back to your room."
No. Her pale face, streaked with blood, shook its head. In truth, Dixie's words weren't even registering.
What had happened to that man?
Why was the surgery taking so long?
Was he in critical condition? Was his life hanging by a thread?
"My corpse can't fall into enemy hands."
How long had it been since he'd said that? As if to prove it, the man had gone down with a bullet in him.
Beth buried her face in her small palms. The metallic stench of dried blood was chilling.
If Dever hadn't rushed in, she'd be the one in that operating room right now. Or maybe she wouldn't have even made it that far before breathing her last.
After trying several times to soothe Beth, Dixie shook her head toward Aines, who was watching from afar.
Left alone again, time crawled by for Beth. Excruciatingly slowly, tightening around her throat.
The operating room door, which had seemed like it would never open again, finally swung open well past noon.
Beth, who had stood guard like a statue, shot to her feet. The man lay face-down on the stretcher, utterly still, as if he hadn't woken from anesthesia yet.
The Duchess's heart ached at the sight of Beth frozen in her disheveled state.
"There's a bed in general ward. Should we take him there?"
Someone suggested, but the Duchess waved it off.
"No. Move him to the isolation room on the fourth floor."
As she spoke, the Duchess glanced at Beth.
The injuries were worse than expected. Not life-threatening, but a fatal blemish for an Imperial Army officer facing imminent battle.
On this battlefield, Dever's body wasn't his own. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say all of Nexus owed him their lives.
Thus, the fact that the Nexus Army Commander had been ambushed needed to be hushed up—utterly and completely.
"Beth, you must have been shocked."
She knew it was a pointless question, but she had to ask.
"Everyone will be startled if you stay like this. Go change and wash up."
Beth clutched the Duchess's sleeve. Her grip trembled with fear.
"Dever will be fine. He's survived this long. Don't worry."
The "this long" Beth understood meant his time in the war, but the Duchess meant something else.
Duchess Diana Molly had known Dever since before he became a boy soldier. She remembered the old society rumors and the young Dever who confirmed them as truth.
Perhaps those days had been more hellish for him than now.
"Go on. You're his exclusive nurse, aren't you?"
The Duchess smiled faintly at "exclusive nurse"—a joke known only to Dever, herself, and Beth.
A glib lie that had cleared Beth's name that day, now a lingering quip.
Dever's exclusive nurse.
Beth's lips quirked up awkwardly, mirroring her. She'd once dismissed it as empty words, but now they carried real weight.
Only then did Beth's feet slowly turn toward the dorms. Blood matted even the tips of her wind-tossed hair.
"Grant me the honor of escorting you."
The dorm door, its lock broken since who-knows-when, opened limply.
When Dever had stood before it, the door seemed so small. To Beth, even this single door felt overwhelmingly large and heavy.
Beth emerged from the dorm again as dusk fell.
The Duchess hadn't forbidden her from working but had earnestly insisted on at least half a day of rest.
Her steps veered not toward the hospital as usual, but along the path skirting the roughly trimmed woods. It led to the supply shed where she'd encountered Dever.
At the shed door, she pulled the necklace hidden in her clothes from her bosom. From the shelf, she took sedatives and wrapped a few in paper.
Other nurses might hesitate to ask for meds.
Beth ran through countless scenarios in her head. The pill bottle slipped from her bandaged hand several times.
"I'll hold it for you."
Since returning from the village, his words echoed relentlessly in her ears, as if he'd always filled her memories this much.
With irritated movements, she unwound the bandage. The wound was nearly healed, just itchy where the scab had formed.
Her heart pounded in time with her steps toward the hospital.
As she gathered supplies from the pharmacy and climbed the stairs, the tray's items wobbled unsteadily. Dread of Dever's impending sight, no doubt.
Before the isolation room, she hesitated to open the door—until it suddenly swung open.
"Oh? Beth?"
Arthur, emerging, greeted her with a pleased face.
Worry for Dever was plain on his features. Why did it irk her? It felt just like yesterday evening, seeing Beth scribbling eagerly on Dever's hand.
"He's not as bad as I thought once I saw him."
Hiding his feelings, he feigned nonchalance. But her eyes, desperately hoping it true, stirred his heart.
Had he lied for no reason?
"Dever's lucky."
Arthur smiled faintly—not his usual grin, but something subdued.
"Having an exclusive nurse and all."
Embarrassment flickered across Beth's face.
"Poor me. I'm the Nexus Commander, yet no one looks after me."
Beneath the playful tone, he hid a truth only he knew.
Everyone saw him as the fortunate prince, not Arthur the man. Even now, long after his father's death, people still called him "Prince." It meant they expected nothing more than the Emperor's beloved youngest son.
Fearing he'd burdened her, Arthur quickly backpedaled.
"Take care of me if I get sick later. Though I'd rather not."
Beth nodded eagerly.
Gazing at her briefly, Arthur stepped aside dramatically.
"Go on in, Nurse. My friend's dying."
At "dying," Beth rushed through the door. The sharp click as it shut felt like rejection, stinging his heart—but what could he do?
This was how he'd always lived.
In the dim room, white bandages gleamed starkly.
The prone man lay as still as on the stretcher, anesthesia evidently lingering.
A small side table stood bedside for the Army Commander, an IV line attached nearby.
His right shoulder and wingbone area were wrapped especially thickly. Knowing the reddish stains were antiseptic, not blood, did little to ease the chill in her chest.
Beth stared openly at Dever's half-exposed face. Courage born of his sleep.
His always piercing eyes were gently closed. She'd never thought to check, but his lashes were a deep gray.
She'd once cradled an injured retriever pup; its eyes and lashes had probably matched its fur—light.
She pulled the paper packet of sedatives from her pocket. After hesitating over the table, she pocketed it again. She'd be visiting often now anyway.
Having saved his life, shouldn't she guard his secrets to the end?
His nape was a mess, perhaps from the market scuffle where he'd rolled on the ground—a rare disheveled sight. Beth's hesitant hand hovered tantalizingly close.
He who flinched at the slightest scandal.
But now.
Seizing the empty darkness, Beth's hand touched Dever's nape. The gray strands, stubborn like his rough nature, were soft as the pup's fur in her memory.
Relaxed by the softness, her clumsy fingers delved deeper. Not his usual neatness, but passable if seen.
Her pocket held one more undelivered paper. His final sullen face—grumbling she didn't know gratitude—stuck in her chest like indigestion, from before they'd run hand-in-hand.
After agonizing, she'd written just "Thank you."
Dever slept soundlessly. Beth gathered her tray and rose.
She'd return before dawn tomorrow. He might take offense if his life-saver showed up tardily. As she resolved this and opened the door, corridor light reached the foot of his bed.
A rattle sounded from her pocket. Not just the note undelivered.
Was this okay?
The small question rose, but no one would know.
Approaching again, she drew out the scar ointment he'd given her.
As Dever had touched her wound, now Beth gently tended his back. The deep scars between bandages spoke of long years.
Mine is already healing.
His wounds never would. They'd become scars.
Still, still.
Only when half the ointment jar was gone did Beth finally step back. Now she could turn and leave.
Click.
After the door shut and small footsteps faded down the corridor, Dever exhaled a held breath.
"What are you..."
His murmuring voice trembled.
What are you doing, acting like this toward me?
What am I...
"To do with you?"