Chapter 33
Chapter 33
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 33
Chapter Title: Did You See a Ghost?
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"Did you see a ghost?"
The usual gruff remark was tossed out.
Dever's coat, shrugged off carelessly, rolled across the floor. Beth had already double-checked the closed door.
"It's not like a thief broke in."
Beth stared blankly at his handsome face, dumbfounded by the grumbled complaint. He seemed utterly at ease, as if he owned the place, sprawling face-down on her bed.
[Coming in through the window makes you the thief, doesn't it?]
Unlike the warehouse last time, she shoved the note scrawled in messy handwriting right in his face. The man glanced at it indifferently, then snatched the wooden slate and raised his hand toward the still-open window.
Beth freaked out and slammed the window shut. Just like when she'd thrown the pen at him in the isolation room last time—he'd clearly been about to toss the slate out.
Dever's lips curved at her glaring black eyes. He flung the wooden slate casually into the opposite corner, where it clattered to the floor.
Dever tilted his head slightly.
"My mistake."
He grabbed Beth's wrist as she moved toward him. Her pale hand, unmarked before, was now covered in scratches. He carefully turned it over.
"Almost healed."
The ugly gashes had faded to faint traces.
"At least that's a relief."
Dever's thumb slowly traced the marks, as if wishing even those would vanish.
Beth fidgeted her fingers at the subtle sensation. The "bad thing" he'd mentioned came rushing back to mind.
His gaze, half-buried in the bed, traveled slowly from her hand up her arm to her shoulder. Under that blatant stare, Beth felt her toes curl uncomfortably.
"You sleep like that?"
Like that?
Only then did Beth realize her attire, and her face flushed crimson. Who could imagine a man sneaking into the nurses' dorm—through the window, no less?
Naturally, she'd been in comfortable slipwear.
She hurriedly grabbed the coat from the foot of the bed and threw it over his face. Surprisingly, instead of cursing, he stayed silent until she shrugged on her robe.
"I'm not some wild animal."
Of course, she couldn't escape the cold glare when he brushed the coat aside.
His tousled hair from the flung garment half-hid his chilly eyes.
"My eyes hurt."
Irritated by her blank stare, more curt words followed.
"My shoulder's wrecked. Can't do it."
As Dever said, his shirt was stained reddish from the medicine applied to his right wing bone and back.
"Don't make that useless guilty face. Hurry up."
Under his impatient urging, Beth reluctantly reached for his hair. The soft texture brushed between her fingers—the same as she'd recalled in the rattling military truck cargo hold, facing the dawn breeze.
This man, whom she'd thought she'd never see again, was once more before her.
Every time she'd thought him dead, he'd come back to life. She'd thought they'd die together, yet here he was, alive with her.
"I went to the village."
Beth checked the time and nodded quietly. Stitching up his back couldn't have taken until sunset.
"Looking for your necklace."
A necklace? In this situation?
Beth stared at him in disbelief. It sounded absurd, but with this man, it was entirely plausible. He had a knack for the most outrageous things.
"Not even a trace of the market left."
Beth carefully withdrew her extended arm.
Just days ago, it had been a lively place, humble but full of life. Could it really vanish without a trace in a single day?
Unease made her heart pound. The old woman's face, scrutinizing hers, flashed vividly in her mind.
Now Dever reached out, fiddling with the stray lock of hair on Beth's shoulder.
"That old lady survived."
His words felt like an answered prayer, and Beth's eyes sparkled.
How could I not tell the truth to a face like that?
Dever deliberately kept his expression neutral, for her sake. So she'd believe him.
"Someone who lived to that age knows how to flee. Rumors spread fast there."
Her dark eyes, searching his for truth, were endearing.
"I guarantee it."
Relief finally washed over Beth's face. Dever was still toying with her hair, but caught in yesterday's aftermath, she barely registered the touch.
It had been an embrace driven by pure survival instinct, but their distance had undeniably shrunk.
"The war will end soon."
His tone carried unshakable certainty.
"Because I decided to end it."
Arrogant words, but from Dever Cliff's mouth, they rang true.
"When the war ends, where will you go?"
Somewhere to return to.
Her eyes dropped without an answer. She couldn't voice what even she couldn't answer for herself.
"Is your home Kopel?"
She slowly shook her head.
"Then, Wayne?"
Dever stopped probing further. He saw her clear face troubled by the question.
Truth be told, home didn't matter. If she didn't want to answer, that was fine. He'd done the same.
From her, one thing was enough.
"When the war ends—"
"Beth! You asleep?!"
A booming voice echoed from downstairs, followed by creaking wooden stairs resounding through the quiet dorm hallway.
"You listening?"
Beth clapped her hand over Dever's mouth.
She felt his eyes narrow sharply in annoyance, but she had no time to care.
She yanked his arm urgently; his long frame rose reluctantly, moving sluggishly. Anxious, Beth flung both window panels wide open and looked up at him.
"Out this way?"
Beth nodded vigorously.
Grumbling under his breath from her insistent tugging, he stepped onto the sill anyway. Dever asked again, "This way?" but got the same nod.
"Driving me crazy."
A groan escaped as he jumped down inevitably, but Beth had no leisure to check. Dixie burst in just as she shut the window.
"Not asleep? The hospital's mostly sorted. Let's go together in the morning. Rest up today—you need it. Everyone said you were in big trouble, but I didn't believe it. Beth Jens, average nurse? Please."
Dixie rambled about last night, but Beth nodded vaguely, half-listening. All her nerves were on her back.
"Why's your face so red? Fever? Should I open the window?"
Beth startled and blocked the window with her body.
Dixie tilted her head.
"What's up? You okay?"
Beth rushed to Dixie, stripped off her coat, and shoved her toward the door. She scooped up the slate from the corner, scribbling furiously.
[Tired? Go wash up.]
"Yeah, okay."
Only after shoving the clueless Dixie into the bathroom did Beth clutch her pounding chest. She checked the door repeatedly before approaching the window again.
The man still stood below the sill. His dark gray hair shimmered silver in the moonlight.
Beth snapped to attention at his lightly fluttering locks and held out the coat dropped on the bed. Lucky Dixie hadn't spotted it—she was sharp.
"Stretch a bit more."
Dever lifted his injured right arm, frowning. Beth extended his arm further without complaint. She felt bad for shooing him out like that.
"A little more."
As his upper body emerged further, his jet-black hair danced in the night breeze. Beth's eyes crinkled softly at the flying strands.
In that instant, Dever lightly toed a brick and rose on tiptoe.
By the time she blinked, his eyes were close enough to touch. Beth jerked back, but his hand was faster.
"Why? You did this yesterday too."
A low murmur scattered between their hasty kiss.
Unlike Beth's flushed lips, his carried the chill of a winter night.
The coat tumbled into the void.
Warmth trickled past the cool lips. His calm gray lashes hovered right before her. As their lips parted briefly, she inhaled sharply, swallowing his scent with it.
Softer than his words, the warmth swept through her. Drawn inexorably by it, Beth squeezed her eyes shut.
Dever's glossy lips quirked up as he pulled away. Beth gazed at him, entranced, backlit by moonlight.
"Whoa."
Teasing her dazed face—like she wanted to devour him—he pretended to stumble. The startled Beth grabbed him quick.
Her heated cheeks matched her pouting red lips, plain as day. Unable to hold back, Dever burst into loud laughter.
Beth couldn't even smile back, just staring blankly at his laughing face. Her heart fluttered. His newly curved eyes, the refreshingly upturned lips, the low rumbling laugh—they kept stirring her.
Dever leaned in as if to topple fully.
Unlike before, their lips brushed lightly, parting with an embarrassingly intimate sound.
"Beth! Eaten dinner?"
Dixie's voice—she'd finished washing already.
Beth shoved him hard from the sill. She heard him hit the ground and mutter something, but the window was already shut.
Dixie flung the door open, eyes narrowing.
"You're acting weird today. Sick? I said open the window."
Beth perched on the sill, forcing a smile and waving her off.
Dever looked up at the worn dorm window, no secrets there. Beside his dark head, red ears peeked out.
Want to bite that little head off, and she'd pop her eyes wide again.
Leaning against the outer wall, Dever slowly traced his lips with a finger. He missed the brief warmth.
"When the war ends."
The unfinished words.
She'd have made an even dumber face if she'd heard the rest.
His immature chuckle faded into the air. That was enough for tonight. A face too precious to squander.
The light in her floor went out. Dever glanced up once more at the now-dark window.
Climbing to the window he'd always only looked up at had been impulse. Nothing was too high for him—except this one, Beth's worn dorm window. It alone felt towering.
He hated that.
Close enough to touch if he reached, yet it mocked him as unreachable. As if she'd stand forever below, staring up. Revolting.
So he wanted to shatter that gap.
And tonight, impulse won over reason.
The taste of that climbed window was sweet.