Chapter 25
Chapter 25
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 25
Chapter Title: A Candy Substitute
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Beth stood in front of the pharmacy shelf with a pensive expression.
She had boldly promised to give him something "better," but what on earth could she give that man? Something to replace alcohol and cigars.
Maybe just something to put in his mouth would help.
The notion of putting anything in the mouth of the Nexus Army Commander felt absurd, but she had no sharper ideas.
Beth's footsteps turned toward a cabinet in the corner. On the top shelf sat large jars stuffed full of colorful little candies. They were her makeshift backup for when painkillers ran dry in the worst-case scenario.
She knew this wasn't it... but Beth pocketed a handful of the bright candies anyway, her face uneasy. She worried what the Duke might say if he accepted them.
Still, alcohol and cigars in the hospital were out of the question.
As Beth steeled herself and took a step forward,
"Gail!"
Aines's scream-like cry echoed down the corridor. The laundry basket she'd dropped lay scattered messily on the floor, but Aines seemed too dazed to care.
Her blank stare at the door soon melted into overwhelming joy.
"Aines!"
At the end of her gaze stood a man wearing a gold medal shaped like wings. He spread his arms wide, and Aines rushed straight into his embrace without a second thought.
Only then did Beth realize the man was Aines's fiancé. The one she'd heard about endlessly—Air Force Colonel Gail Wellington.
A faint sob escaped Aines as she buried her face in her fiancé's shoulder. From afar, Dixie met Beth's eyes and waggled her eyebrows. What better show for Dixie than this?
Beth smiled softly in solidarity, then turned back to the lovers' tearful reunion.
How painful must it be to part from the one you love? Beth briefly imagined it—something she'd never experienced and probably never would. It was a thought more suited to her age, one that hadn't crossed her mind in ages.
"I've come to see Commander Dever."
Gail gently stroked his beloved fiancée's hair, signaling it was time to part.
But Aines clung to him with uncharacteristic coquettishness, shaking her head firmly while gripping his hand tight.
"Just to the door."
Beth was the one flustered by the couple climbing the stairs together. Of course, Aines as Head Nurse was among the privileged few cleared for the fourth floor.
"Beth, I'll go with you only up to the fourth floor."
Beth could only nod. Who was she to dictate who could go together?
Arthur suspiciously inserted himself into the odd group. Spotting Gail on his way down the stairs, he greeted him warmly and promptly joined the fourth-floor expedition.
The men's hearty laughter and the four sets of boisterous footsteps reverberated through the quiet corridor. Beth, who had meant to go first, somehow ended up at the tail end.
"Dever, I brought a friend!"
Dever's eyes snapped to the uninvited guests barging into the isolation room. Beth lingered awkwardly by the door, peeking at him, then quickly dropped her gaze to her toes when their eyes met.
"Said you'd give something better."
Only Beth caught Dever's cryptic mutter.
"You brought quite a crowd."
Beth felt a twinge of injustice at the situation. I didn't bring them. With no outlet for her frustration, she lifted her downcast eyes, sparkling with unspoken words.
Dever chuckled at the sight of her blinking up at him, eyes brimming with things to say. What could she possibly have so much to vent?
Arthur didn't miss that fleeting shift. His thick golden eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly before smoothing back to normal.
"Ah, what a problem. Our dull talk will chase the ladies away."
But Arthur was a master at masking his feelings.
Let fleeting emotions drift away.
That was his way.
"Let's go, Beth."
Quick on the uptake, Aines grabbed Beth's hand and tugged. She still had business here, but as Beth dragged her feet unconsciously, Aines whispered "hurry" and urged her on.
Beth glanced back at Dever. But he merely shrugged lightly.
Infuriatingly so.
"Your love leaving for the first floor must sting."
Arthur teased his subordinate with a sly grin.
Gail's neck flushed crimson with embarrassment, but he spoke his mind anyway.
"It's been a full year since I last saw Aines. Truth be told, I was glad the Commander summoned me. At least this way, I got to see her."
"You'll marry as soon as the war ends, right?"
"Yes, we should. And you too, Your Highness—or rather, Commander—ought to marry."
"Me? I have the adoration of the entire empire. Binding myself to just one feels like a waste."
Gail burst out laughing at Arthur's deadpan humor. No one could resist the ever-upbeat Arthur.
"What about you, Commander? Word is, you're hugely popular with the ladies."
"This guy's mere presence at a ball has them whispering up a storm. Makes my gut ache watching."
"Still, you should marry. My guess is you'll do it right after this war wraps up."
Gail chimed in knowingly.
"Marriage."
Dever chewed over a word that had never seemed destined for his lips.
Cliff. Cliff. He'd heard the lectures on family glory and heir qualities until his ears bled, but he'd never pictured himself as the successor.
The day Father Duke Cassius "turned that way."
No—"made himself that way." That day, he'd thought the Cliff family was done. No one left to carry the Cliff name.
And yet, marriage.
"Do you have a lady in mind?"
Silence descended in that instant.
Gail blinked in confusion, glancing between the Army Commander and the overall Commander, while Arthur's eyebrows twitched faintly once more.
"Well."
Dever's vague reply came as he lifted the whiskey bottle, a crease forming between his brows. He'd rubbed his still-tender right shoulder without thinking.
"Are you alright?"
Worry clouded Gail's face. The Commander's injury wasn't fresh, but the timing was critical now.
Dever ignored his subordinate's concern, staring silently at the bottle in his hand. As if to spite Beth's earlier cleanup, Arthur soon barged in loaded with whiskey, cigars, and a sack of meds from Dever's barracks.
She'd probably pull that dumb puppy face if she saw.
If only she'd returned a little sooner—he might've caught it. A flicker of regret. But his mouth stayed true to form, delivering only commanderly words.
"Did Bottom Colonel report in?"
"Gave a quick salute, but do we really have to team up with that guy? His Majesty's orders leave no room to refuse."
Gail griped, still in the dark about Dever's explosive plan.
Arthur moistened his dry lips with whiskey. A gut-burning discussion was coming; better lubricate first.
"No plans to refuse."
"Pardon?"
Dever's face remained impassive.
"We're launching a frontal assault. Straight down the middle. For that, I need you."
Gail's shocked expression went ignored as the merciless orders pressed on.
"Blow the bridge to Kovah's capital."
"Beth..."
Aines approached with a pouty, teary face. Beth nodded preemptively. She could guess the topic blindfolded.
"You knew what I was going to say?"
Beth jerked her head toward the door instead of replying. There stood Gail, eyes shining, waiting eagerly for his fiancée.
"I'm on fourth-floor night shift tonight... I'm so sorry. I'll make it up to you later, promise."
Aines, cheeks rosy, repeated her vow of gratitude. Beth shooed her off with a nudge.
It worked out perfectly anyway. She needed to see Dever, and night duty meant dodging prying eyes. Being seen alone with him wouldn't do her any favors with anyone.
While waiting for Arthur, still in the isolation room, Beth focused on her documents. He finally descended as the ward lights winked out one by one.
"Night shift, huh."
Arthur feigned casual familiarity with hospital routine but lingered by the desk instead of leaving. His mouth hovered as if to speak, then clamped shut.
"Never mind. Good luck."
Only after Arthur had fully vacated the hospital did Beth head upstairs. His earlier conflicted look crossed her mind briefly but faded fast. What could a prince possibly have to say to a lowly nurse?
Beth shrugged it off and climbed the stairs slowly, floor by floor. At the dim end of the fourth-floor hall, faint light seeped from the isolation room.
Unnecessary tension slowed her steps until they halted at the door.
As she gripped the handle to steady her breath,
"What the hell are you doing out there?"
The door flew open, pitching Beth—who still clutched the handle—sprawling inside. Her eyes landed first on Dever's bare shoulder. She stumbled back, but he seized her wrist this time instead.
"Stop being so damn frustrating."
His voice dripped irritation.
Dever had counted her steady footsteps ascending to the fourth floor. They'd slowed bit by bit, finally freezing at the door.
What the devil was she doing?
Lightning-quick one moment, inexplicably maddening the next. This woman.
Cold air wafted through the open window, yet Dever wore no shirt. At a loss for where to look, Beth scanned the room pointlessly.
She'd seen bare bodies—male or female—enough to be numb to it, and this man was just another wounded soldier. So why did her floundering feel so alien?
Exceptionally proud of her professionalism, Beth refused to disappoint herself. She met his eyes squarely, gaze laced with deliberate boldness.
"You've got plenty to be shy about."
Dever dawdled before shrugging into the nearby shirt.
"That 'better' thing—was it those useless idiots?"
Beth shook her head faintly. Her hesitant demeanor tilted Dever's head skeptically.
"Then what?"
Lips pursed, Beth reluctantly fished out the candies she'd lugged around all day.
She watched his gaze settle on them, darkening gradually. Should've just lied. Regret hit late.
"Explain why this is better."
Beth fumbled for her pen. Dever snatched it and hurled it out the window without pause.
Just like she'd done to his cigar that morning.
"Why? You chucked my cigar too."
Beth's lips parted in shock. Was this his revenge?
Dever's mouth quirked.
"No pens here."
He held out his injured hand to her.
And then.
"This time, I'll get it right."
A tender promise, perfectly suited to the night, hung in the air.