Chapter 28
Chapter 28
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 28
Chapter Title: Did You Sleep Well?
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In the deserted corner of an empty hospital corridor, Arthur finally collapsed to the ground.
This is the best. The best.
He repeated it to himself relentlessly. The faint tremor in his hand as he rubbed his dry face felt pathetic even to him. Was this fear? Guilt? Or all of it?
Words once spoken couldn't be taken back.
The place he could return to had vanished.
"Please...."
A sigh escaped him, pleading to no one—not even himself. He gripped the wall and hauled himself to his feet. He had to go, had to get away from here, even if just for a little while.
His staggering steps toward the hospital's main entrance suddenly halted. Then, almost immediately, he turned toward the opposite direction—the back gate. He didn't want to run into anyone.
"Ah."
Of all people. One of the two he least wanted to see.
He knew their eyes had met, but he turned his head away, pretending not to notice. It was Beth's faint touch that stopped him.
Arthur's gaze slowly drifted down to his elbow. A small hand clutched at his sleeve. It was such a fragile grip that he could have lied, claimed he hadn't seen her, and walked on by.
But he couldn't bring himself to tell that lie. It felt like she wasn't holding his sleeve at all, but a corner of his heart.
At the end of his downcast gaze, a small bandage was extended toward him. Beth pointed gently at a spot near his finger.
"It's fine...."
It was such a tiny scratch that it was embarrassing even to bandage. Just a small mark that had caught him at his most revolting moment.
The moment Arthur took the bandage, Beth turned and slipped back inside the hospital.
"The best. This is the best."
His quiet mutter continued.
I'm the Emperor's eyes. I inherited royal blood, so I have to take responsibility. This is for Nexus.
So... so...
Just once. Just exclude Dever from the battle. He's already injured anyway.
Then Beth...
"Damn it."
It's what Dever wants.
If there are countless things that can be swayed by the wind, then it's my job to eliminate that wind. What does it matter if one woman like her disappears?
On the forest path leading to the barracks, in a place where no one would see him, Arthur dropped to his knees.
You're not just coveting what Dever has?
"Pathetic bastard. Useless fool."
One question rose in his mind. Just that one question.
Arthur curled into a ball on his knees, like a desperate prayer. It was a frail sight, unbelievable for Nexus's prince and commander.
The wind was blowing. A sharp, cold wind.
"Mail's here! Mail!"
Dixie shouted at the top of her lungs at the long-awaited arrival of the post. Even the soldiers groaning in their beds perked up at the word. Only those who had experienced it knew the immense comfort a single letter could bring in a place like this.
"Sergeant Ivan, from your wife. Oh, Private Maiden, from your father."
Somehow memorizing the names of all those injured soldiers, Dixie appointed herself the mail carrier.
"Aines."
Aines's eyes widened in surprise at her unexpectedly called name.
"From your mother. Hmph, no interest in letters now that your fiancé's sent one? I'll tell the Madam everything when I go to Wayne."
In the ward buzzing with rare energy, Beth alone wore an anxious expression. Half the stack of letters had already been distributed, but none bore her name.
Only after the last letter from Dixie's hand found its owner did Beth finally exhale the breath she'd been holding.
"Beth, looks like yours hasn't made it here yet. The supply lines have been blocked a lot lately."
Everyone assumed Beth's dark expression was because her letter hadn't arrived, but it was the opposite. She was relieved it hadn't. That meant the worst hadn't happened yet.
Ignoring the words of comfort, Beth crouched in the corner of the empty supply room. Her pounding heart was finally starting to calm. She soothed herself there in the quiet.
When she'd gone to the isolation room earlier, Dever had been absorbed in work. Instead of liquor bottles on the side table, maps lay sprawled out alongside papers scribbled with notes. The rumor of the final battle approaching must have been true.
Unlike her worries that he'd nitpick again, the man took his medicine and dressing change without a single snide remark. Even then, his eyes stayed fixed on the pile of documents. It was the same when Beth packed up to leave.
"Beth. Aines. Doctor Barden. Giselle."
The Madam clapped her hands sharply to draw attention in the excited atmosphere, then called a few more names in succession.
"Come to the hospital director's office."
Tension hung in the air among the faces climbing the stairs in confusion. The Madam surveyed the group with a calm expression only after they reached the office, having maintained silence the whole way.
"This is the roster for deployment to the field hospital."
Someone gasped sharply.
"It's composed of our finest talent, so you can all take pride in it."
The Madam hid her hands behind her back to conceal her anxiety. The head of a military hospital couldn't show weakness. It would only amplify their fears.
"I know some of you have field hospital experience, and some don't."
Beth gently took Aines's fingertips. Aines gripped back with all her strength.
"You all know what kind of place it is without me explaining. A place where the arm you were holding moments ago flies off, where you can't be sure you'll see someone you saw that morning come evening."
The Madam looked at Beth.
"Especially this operation—it's top secret. No one outside this room can know you're field hospital personnel. Not even that a battle is happening. Act as normal until that day. Dismissed."
The Madam turned first. Seeing those trusting dark eyes made her heart ache.
Beth was an excellent nurse. It had been obvious since nursing school in Wayne. After Beth came to the front lines, she'd been harsher on the timid girl to toughen her up. She'd even thought Beth might end up at a field hospital someday.
But when Arthur uttered "Beth," it felt like her heart dropped.
That girl can't even raise her voice. Why her, of all people?
"What is His Majesty thinking?"
A battle without Dever. One he doesn't even know about.
In the quiet room, the Madam's worries deepened.
Beth peeked cautiously into the isolation room, then suddenly flung the door open wide.
Dever was gone. Nowhere in the room at a glance. Where could a man isolated on the fourth floor have vanished to?
She knew it made no sense, but she even opened the window to peer below, utterly baffled. He'd summon her every night before—when was that? The clock had already passed 11 p.m.
Leaning back in the chair, her eyes fell on the side table, even messier than during the day.
Battle. Field hospital. Familiar yet foreign words swirled in her ears. She'd always known it would come. But that didn't stop the anxiety. The tremor transmitted through Aines's gripped hand had shown her just how grueling a field hospital was.
What if she died there?
Her fingers brushed the cold gun barrel nestled with the ointment in her pocket. That chill evoked memories of the Kovah spy chaos, now feeling like ancient history.
Back then, she'd wanted to live so badly.
She might be walking to her death. Still, from the moment she'd chosen the front lines, her resolve was set. And the reason for that resolve—the death benefit certificate—was held by the man she now waited for.
Midnight approached, but he still hadn't come. Where on earth was he? Fatigue dragged at her eyes, making them heavy.
Just wait until midnight.
The faint resolve faded into sleep.
The moment Dever opened the isolation room door, he saw Beth slumped asleep over the side table. The clock had passed midnight.
Dever was dressed impeccably in his uniform, unbelievable for an injured soldier. His presence on the fourth floor was a secret, but the army commander's existence wasn't. There was nothing strange about him wandering the barracks.
No one even knew if he was right- or left-handed. He'd been freely roaming the barracks and was on his way back.
The staff meeting that started early evening had dragged on until nearly midnight. He'd cut it short arbitrarily, in fact.
She was a stickler for rules to the point of frustration, so she'd surely keep her promise to apply ointment every night. She might even have arrived already and left upon finding him gone.
He'd run quite a distance expecting to arrive before midnight, and now his right shoulder and wing ached.
As Dever opened the window to cool his rising body heat, he grabbed the handle again. Was that worn nurse uniform the same year-round? Even in winter, the fabric showed no sign of thickening.
Even after he shrugged off his uniform jacket and undid a few shirt buttons for comfort, she didn't stir. He knew well that military hospitals ran as relentlessly as the army itself.
Dever's eyes returned to Beth, sprawled over the operations map. Her head was turned toward the bed. He sat on the bed's edge, then bent one knee and crouched to the floor—now their gazes nearly aligned.
A few strands of jet-black hair veiled her pale face. Dever's hand reached toward them. They were as light as she was, barely perceptible to the touch.
Beth Jens, neither frowning, nor scared, nor angry.
His hand, having lost its excuse to touch, hovered in the air.
Had she seen through his impure intentions?
Her closed eyelids trembled, then those ink-black eyes met his.
In eyes that would answer any question with nothing but the truth,
"Did you sleep well?"
Unable to hold back, he voiced the feelings he'd hidden.
Simply because he was so curious.
My nights are hell—were yours peaceful?