Chapter 35
Chapter 35
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 35
Chapter Title: I'll Return Alive
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"Yeah, better than something lame like 'Final Battle'."
Arthur shrugged his shoulders.
"Weren't you going to marry your fiancée if you make it back safely?"
"Ah, yes. That's right."
Gail hurriedly answered Dever's question.
"It's the operation name—for you, Colonel."
Unable to hold back at the somewhat brazen claim, Arthur let out a hollow laugh. "Oh, come on." But Dever shot back with his usual unchanging expression. It was only pitiful for Gail, who thanked him without grasping the true intent.
"Quite the love for the ages."
It was a pointed jab, but the man himself played dumb, leaving innocent Gail's face flushed bright red.
"Why do you keep teasing me, Commander?"
"Enough, enough. Some faces burn like gunpowder, others might as well have swallowed ice—they're that stone-faced."
No matter what was said beside him, Dever calmly folded the operation map.
A quick-witted guy, pretending not to know.
"I'm heading out first. You and Colonel Dever can huddle up and keep brainstorming about the 'Proposal'."
"Yes?"
Gail looked every bit the pure-hearted youth, wondering whether it meant the operation codenamed 'Proposal' or a proposal to his own fiancée. For all his medals, Gail was just a bumbling private under his two sly superiors.
"Don't even try to figure it out. Just do whatever you two want."
Arthur waved dismissively and vanished into the dark corridor.
Gail glanced at his colonel, wondering what that had been about, but no superior was ever that kind.
After eyeing Dever cautiously for a moment, Gail spoke up.
"Then... I'll take my leave."
Gail saluted, looking even more drained than during the briefing. Dever gave a small nod in reply.
Alone in the empty isolation room, he glanced at his watch. Midnight was fast approaching.
He opened the window, and the operation map fluttered in the breeze. It flapped so disgracefully that it was hard to believe the lives of millions hung on this single sheet.
Click. In the brief flicker of lighter flame, the map turned to ash and scattered.
Everything was like that.
Just as a blaze fierce enough to consume all barely lasted ten seconds, nothing remained after battles waged with lives on the line.
Behind that fleeting splendor lay only profound emptiness... and darkness.
"At least no ghosts will follow."
Some had praised Dever as a man living a flame-like life. Lip service, no doubt—but he didn't agree.
He knew he was no beautiful, shining blaze. The burned-out ash left in a flame's wake suited him far better.
The crisp sound of his boots echoed through the silent corridor. Even unseen, Dever's stride never faltered.
Cassius, his master, had raised him that way.
More like taming a beast—raised might be the better word.
A middle-aged man chillingly like him.
Those gray eyes, glaring tenaciously at all.
'I don't take in useless bastards.'
Words recited even as blood poured and he crumpled to the floor.
Deeper than the scars on his back was that split-second memory—hallucination or reality, he couldn't say.
"Useless bastard..."
Once, he'd even seen it as another name for himself.
Dever covered one ear. The distant hum was drawing near.
Soon, the tedious whip cracks would follow.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Beth, awake alone, blinked in the darkness.
The exhaustion had caught up; tonight, everyone had crashed without even chit-chat.
At his 'Wait for me,' she'd lingered around the hospital after her shift, but Dever never showed. Even killing time in the supply closet under pretense of organizing, same story.
Only back at the dorm had Aines mentioned he was probably in a meeting.
If there's a meeting, just say so.
Her small lips pouted. Waiting endlessly for that vague promise left her quietly resentful. The emotion felt embarrassingly raw, with no other outlet.
Knowing full well it was a promise he couldn't keep, Beth still propped herself against the bed headboard, claiming insomnia. Her eyes flicked to the clock again.
Will he really not come?
Only once had that man come beneath her window. And yet here she was, waiting like it was natural—pathetic.
Irritably straightening the bedding, Beth's head snapped around.
Thud.
A familiar sound.
Thud.
She cracked the bedside window open.
"You alone?"
Dever stood there, identical to last night. As if he'd heard her very thoughts.
"Are you alone?"
Spotting that smirking smile recreating yesterday, Beth frowned at once. Still, she pushed the window wider.
Dever playfully mimed grabbing the sill; Beth waved frantically in horror. No way—he wouldn't climb up with everyone here. Deep dimples carved his cheeks as he stifled laughter.
Beth held up her palm: Wait.
The window shut; moments later, the faulty latch creaked as a smooth face poked through.
"Hey."
The greeting emerged light, standing in for her heavy heart.
Expecting his usual gruffness, his unexpected night salutation threw Beth off. She'd come down boldly enough, but now, words failed her.
"You waited?"
Beth's hand fidgeted in her coat pocket, hunting paper and pen—left in the room again, nothing.
Embarrassed to answer aloud anyway, she jammed her hand deeper, averting her gaze under pretense of blocking the wind.
"Answer."
A boot toe stepped closer into view. Then a hand, covered in half-healed wounds from their battlefield tumble.
Dever thanked his cunning. Glad he could spot and prod this woman's soft spot. Kind-hearted Beth Jens couldn't shove aside even a hint of pity.
Sure enough, the small hand emerged.
[I told you to wait.]
Not perfect, but not bad. Like a satisfying dessert, it eased Dever into relaxation.
Leaning against the outer wall, Dever studied the woman before him. Swallowed by shadow himself, her face—bathed unshielded in moonlight—glowed exceptionally pale.
Perhaps it was all destined.
That dark forest path encounter. The scar discovery. Handing medicine in the warehouse. Every day a step toward this night, this feeling.
"I had words planned, but they'll keep."
Some truths clarify only in darkness.
"I..."
Beth tilted her head. Shadow obscured his face, his voice. Her delicate hand clutched his uniform hem.
Sleeve snagged, Dever yielded to her weaker grip. His shadowed features brightened into moonlight.
Finally seeing him clearly, Beth smiled faintly. Dever eyed her a moment, then rubbed his brow.
"I'll be insanely busy the next few days."
His hand rose to his uniform chest. The brooch snapped free, offered to Beth.
"Might not see you till the last op ends. Hold this."
The Nexus-emblem brooch—his very symbol.
"Don't freak. Just giving it."
A lie.
The coming battle's deadliest role was his—the surest path to war's end.
It demanded stripping all traces: rank pins, anything screaming Dever Cliff. Most glaring? This brooch.
Her round eyes scrutinized him, probing truth. Dever wore his usual mask. She wasn't lie-savvy anyway. Still.
Lie or truth—it didn't matter. As long as Beth Jens stayed in the dark.
"This too."
He unclasped the necklace.
"You promised to help. Quitting the meds."
His scent flooded her nape; Beth went rigid. His sideways-tilted lips hovered close.
He didn't pull back after fastening it—her shoulders hunched repeatedly. Her wandering eyes met his.
A burst of laughter crinkled his eyes. Burying his face in her tense shoulders, Dever shook with mirth.
Beth smarted, thinking she'd played the fool again. She shoved in pique, but his rock-solid frame didn't budge. Worse, he enfolded her pushing arms—now fully embraced.
Grunting futilely against his boulder-like body, Beth surrendered to his endless chuckles, waiting out the time.
Laughter faded, wind alone whispering—yet Dever kept his face buried. He drew a deep breath. Even her scent scattering on the breeze felt precious.
"Want me dead?"
A needless question—one she'd never affirm.
He felt her faint headshake.
"Want me alive?"
Trapped in his arms, Beth fidgeted. Why's 'yes' so mortifying?
"Want me alive?"
Reluctantly, she nodded. The gripped brooch bit into her tender skin.
"Me too."
He whispered.
"I want to live too."
Words never before voiced.
I hope you never grasp their weight.
"Wait till I return alive."
Too heavy—you can't flee it.
"I'll return. Wait like tonight."
Beth's hand crept up his back, a dry brush and release—leaving emptiness.
That mere touch drew him deeper into her hold. Though her slight frame offered scant warmth.
Beth felt glad for naively honoring his promise.
Glad she hadn't left this man alone tonight.
That, at least, was pure truth.
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