Chapter 27
Chapter 27
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 27
Chapter Title: Excluding Dever
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“Commander, what did you just say...?”
Gail, who had been going on enthusiastically about marriage until moments ago, instead asked back in a daze.
He wasn't the Commander or anything on that level, but as a subordinate, he'd been around Dever long enough. Gail's eyes narrowed suspiciously. Now that he thought about it, the Commander's slightly relaxed demeanor didn't seem entirely due to his injury.
“Do you have someone in mind already?”
Arthur posed the question that Gail himself wouldn't dare ask. His tone was casual, but the gaze he cast out the window carried a strangely heavy weight.
“A marquess's family? A count's? Not that it matters. She'll end up as Lady Cliff anyway.”
His blue eyes finally turned toward his friend.
“Someone appropriate. A woman on our level will do.”
It was the usual smile, but somehow the corners of his mouth felt stiff. Maybe he was trying to issue some kind of warning. It was oddly amusing that he'd specifically said “a woman on our level.”
Dever either hadn't heard him or saw no need to listen, peering intently at his own palm instead.
He couldn't peer into that gray-haired head, but one thing was clear. At least for now, that woman was in there.
“I told you before, didn't I?”
Arthur smiled even more brightly. To hide his twisted inner thoughts. So Dever wouldn't notice his petty feelings.
“You're always so annoyingly evasive with your answers.”
“I doubt the Commander will recover in time for the battle. Not that he cares about recovery in the first place.”
Gail said as they descended the stairs.
“Gail.”
Arthur stopped. His stomach churned. He wished someone else could handle this damned situation for him.
“Let's talk outside for a moment.”
“Yes, sir.”
The Commander's face was rigidly set. A far cry from the laughing, chatting demeanor in the isolation room. Gail had no choice but to match his superior's gravity.
Arthur headed for the hospital's back entrance. The open area leading to the nurses' dorms was sparsely populated. Even in broad daylight, when everyone was at the hospital, it exuded an eerie chill.
Arthur had chosen this spot deliberately. He glanced around once, then pulled out a cigar. To any onlookers, they should look like officers pathetically lighting up.
Gail politely declined the cigar Arthur offered. His subtle gesture toward the hospital with his fingers made it clear he was worried about his fiancée catching him.
Arthur chuckled dryly. If he said Gail's untainted innocence made him look like a fresh young man, he'd probably be horrified.
“Damn it.”
Sweat beaded unbidden on his skin, making the lighter slip repeatedly. After several failed attempts, Arthur spat out a curse and tossed the cigar from his mouth. His already parched mouth burned even more from the dry tobacco.
Gail was the one growing anxious from his superior's hesitation. In a wartime crisis, a serious talk meant life-or-death stakes. He'd miraculously reunited with Aines and didn't want to be separated again.
Please, let it be nothing serious.
His earnest wish made his voice tremble.
“Commander, what's going—”
“Dever is out of the operation.”
As if Gail's words were the signal, Arthur unleashed the words he'd been holding back.
“Exactly that. Commander Dever is excluded from this operation. Total command will be Colonel Bottom and me. The full briefing starts at midnight tonight in my tent, so be there on time.”
The sharp-witted colonel gaped like an idiot.
“But... how? A battle without Commander Dever...”
Arthur worked his mouth, bitter bile rising.
“It's His Majesty's order.”
“His Majesty's order?”
This absurd notion was supposedly from the Emperor himself. Unfiltered shock spread across Gail's face.
“I get following your lead, Commander, but Bottom? You know that guy? He doesn't know the first thing about tactics—”
“Gail Wellington.”
A cold gaze pinned his subordinate. Under the Commander's glare, Gail's shoulders snapped to attention.
“My apologies, Commander.”
“It's good to trust your superior, but don't forget your sovereign.”
Soldiers saw Nexus's army pillars—Dever and Arthur—as fire and water, given their starkly different styles.
Where Dever led with aggressive momentum and iron control, Arthur approached with humanity and inclusiveness.
Arthur exuding this high-pressure aura now was out of character. But how many truly knew his “usual” self?
Uncomfortable with Gail's rigidly disciplined stance, Arthur turned away. Nausea surged, threatening to make him retch.
“Go.”
He kept his back turned until the sound of retreating boots finally faded.
“Weak little shit.”
That vague guilt always tripped him up.
Even though he had no intention of repenting.
Leaning against the outer wall, Arthur spotted something. Amid the patchy weeds and dirt, a pen with a broken tip lay discarded. He picked it up and examined it—no initial engraved anywhere.
“Just like me.”
Arthur tucked the pen into his trouser pocket. Someone else might have seen it as trash and passed by. But its fate of being used and discarded felt all too familiar, leading him to do something he normally wouldn't.
Hoping someone might one day pick him up too.
“Oh? Hello!”
Despite Dixie's bright greeting, an awkward tension hung between her—the hospital's self-proclaimed comic relief—and Arthur. The prince, who would normally spin tales from some rumor he'd heard, merely nodded stiffly.
Dixie's eyes rolled toward her friends. But Aines had turned away, embarrassed by her blunder in the isolation room, and Beth was too busy packing medicine for Dever to notice.
Arthur, watching Beth quietly, spoke up cautiously.
“If you're heading to the fourth floor, mind if I join you?”
It was a gentle command.
Beth followed at a measured distance behind him. His silence amplified the unnatural discomfort of their pairing.
“Tch.”
Unsure where to put his hands, Arthur had shoved them into his pockets and let out a short sigh. A red drop welled from his fingertip, pricked by the sharp pen nib.
“Goddamn it.”
His low mutter brimmed with irritation.
Beth froze, unsure what to do. Seeing his usually smiling, refined face mutter curses like a street thug felt all the more alien.
And on that face, Raphaelle's overlapped—the one who'd scorned and belittled her. They were siblings, so resemblances were natural, but even their auras matched.
Arthur descended several stairs in quick strides and jammed the pen into a hallway trash bin. His pricked finger throbbed. Was this the childish farce born of his pathetic self-pity?
Foul curses swirled in his mouth, but with Beth watching, he couldn't unleash them fully.
The crack happens in an instant. Once fractured, it inevitably shatters. That's why Arthur was afraid. It felt like the mask he'd worn his whole life was crumbling right now.
Only at the isolation room door did Arthur finally speak.
“...You've had a hard day.”
He didn't leave even as the door opened and closed. Unaware of his gaze through the small window, the two inside came into view. Dever looked the same as always—no emotional shift on his face.
But what you see isn't always everything.
Sometimes humans cling more firmly to irrational hunches than reason.
“Raphaelle, you might be right.”
The wind is blowing.
For Dever, and for me too.
The click of his heels echoed loudly as he headed to the director's office.
Madam Molly's eyes stayed fixed on Arthur, even as she lifted the steaming teacup to her lips.
The prince who'd lit up the dreary battlefield merely held his cup, showing no intent to drink. Worried by the sight, the lady spoke first.
“Is something wrong?”
“Ah, yes. There's something I need to tell you...”
Snapping back to reality, Arthur's lips twitched.
Unlike when he'd brusquely unloaded on Gail, he could barely get the words out before her.
She'd known him since childhood, sometimes comforting him more than his own mother. Diana Molly was one of the rare few who'd shown him unconditional affection.
Exposing his flaws before such a person was hard. No, he didn't want to. He feared her contempt.
“I have something to tell you.”
“Of course.”
Kind wrinkles framed her gentle smile, adding to her dignified middle-age grace.
“The operation Dever mentioned last time has been canceled.”
Clink. Her teacup met its saucer. Her guess that it wasn't ordinary was spot on.
“Dever is excluded from this operation. He... doesn't know.”
“He doesn't know?”
The army commander unaware of an operation. Confusion like Gail's crossed her face, sinking Arthur's heart endlessly.
“It's His Majesty's order.”
“No, how? An operation without Dever?”
“Madam!”
Her sigh-like murmur ignited Arthur like a fuse.
“The Nexus army belongs to His Majesty, not Dever! The hospital's duty is merely to assist the commander's operations.”
The lady met the commander's eyes steadily.
How dare I raise my voice to Madam Molly.
Regret came late.
But deep down, he knew. This was his true bottom. He could raise his voice to a duchess only because of his flimsy pride as imperial kin.
“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Madam.”
His hand over his eyes trembled faintly. The bloodstain from the pen prick had dried.
“It's alright. How could I fully grasp the burden of drying blood in battle?”
Her true, kind reassurance felt even harsher.
But he still had more depths to show.
“We need a field hospital.”
“Yes, that's been on the table for a while.”
“Since it's a top-secret operation, gather only the tight-lipped ones.”
She nodded readily.
“I'll select them.”
“For example.”
Lowering his hand from his eyes, his sunken blue gaze rippled.
“Someone like Beth Jens.”