Chapter 4
Chapter 4
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: Witness the Spy
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Beth couldn't believe her ears. What did he mean by watching together?
Before the confusion in Beth's mind could settle, the spy's screams—thrashing and being dragged away like he was having a fit—assaulted her ears.
Dever grabbed the frozen Beth's arm and pulled her to her feet.
His impeccably polished military boots scraped against the dirt floor, clashing discordantly with Beth's trembling feet.
No matter how much Beth tried to pull back or swat at Dever's hand, it was useless. The man was dragging her along as if he'd gone deaf.
Whether it was the chill night air of the battlefield heading into winter or the sharp, intimidating aura radiating from this man, a cold shiver ran up Beth's spine, making her tremble.
Dever dragged Beth to the center where the tents clustered. A few steps ahead, the spy who'd been hauled in first was sprawled atop a pile of firewood, convulsing wildly.
'Young and in pain.'
Dever let out a silent scoff. Helping the enemy for such a pathetic reason. And from someone who couldn't even save their own skin.
He yanked the whimpering woman forward like a mangy mutt, and she frantically shook her head in terror. Dever intended to show her. Whether spy or army nurse.
"Watch."
That your insolent words don't fly in my theater of war.
Even as she wildly shook her head, a flicker of lighter flame caught Beth's eye, and she squeezed her eyes shut tight. If she could, she'd cover her ears too, but with Dever binding both her hands, she had no choice.
All that was permitted was closing her eyes, bowing her head. Shrinking even smaller before this man.
Tears she'd held back fell silently onto Dever's military boot.
"Beth!"
A middle-aged woman's voice, raw as if torn apart, flew toward them.
"My God, Beth. My God."
Madam Molly, who rarely showed agitation, clutched her chest as she ran over. In that moment of released tension, Beth's legs buckled toward the ground, but Dever caught her.
"Dever. No, Duke Dever. Beth, Beth is my child."
The words my child came instantly from Madam Molly, who had no children of her own. Arthur, who had escorted the madam, and Dever's eyes met in the air.
"I've been raising her since Wayne and brought her here. She was supposed to arrive this evening."
The madam closed her eyes briefly and caught her breath.
This was no ordinary shock. Beth was far overdue from her expected arrival time, and they'd been waiting. But a bombing raid? And Dever interrogating her, of all things!
"I vouch for Beth's identity. Cliff Duke. On Madam Molly's honor."
At those words, one of Dever's eyebrows twitched.
Diana Molly, the empire's sole duchess, was staking her family's honor. He had no intention of embarrassing a respected lady. He knew well the courtesies between nobles.
"Understood, Madam. Take her."
"Beth, can you stand? Duke Arthur, help support her?"
Yet again, it was Dever who caught Beth as she leaned into the madam for support.
"There's something I almost forgot. May I borrow your nurse to the tent for a moment?"
Beth nodded calmly to the worried madam looking back at her. They'd verified her identity, so he must want to return the death certificate. Beth didn't want to leave anything of hers with Dever.
Dever didn't look back at Beth until they returned to the tent.
Unlike Beth, who walked naturally to the side table inside the tent, Dever headed to the opposite side.
Dever picked up a pair of neatly polished spare military boots next to a folded uniform. The woman's eyes, bristling with tension against the tent wall, darted busily.
Beth alternated glances between the boots placed neatly before her feet and Dever. What was he planning?
"Put them on."
Realizing his gaze was fixed on her dirt-caked feet, Beth quickly pulled one foot back. She didn't want to show any more ugliness, but the man's persistent stare didn't waver.
Dever bent one knee.
The overbearing eyes that had pinned her down from the forest path until now were beneath her.
"You think that hides it?"
Dever gripped Beth's ankle. It barely qualified as one—stuffed with excess uniform fabric into the boots. Even laced tight, they were still big, but at least no more wounds until she got back to the hospital.
"I'll verify the certificate again and return it."
As if reading her thoughts, the man mentioned the certificate.
After perfectly lacing the other boot, Dever slowly stood. The woman's eyes, shadowed by his silhouette, gleamed with wariness.
"If you're an army nurse, I should treat you as a soldier."
It was a straightforward conclusion.
"What rotten luck."
Arthur was certain.
Even Dever thought the rear hospital bombing was an unfortunate coincidence. Even if it happened the night before the Nexus operation.
"From what I heard, not just the director but the nurses seemed in league with the Kovah too. Of course, we'll know details tomorrow when the inspection team goes."
"That woman."
"Probably figured her useless since she couldn't talk."
"Useless..."
The sole variable of the night: useless because she couldn't speak.
He didn't disbelieve Madam Molly, but he didn't believe everything either. Humans ultimately see what they want to believe.
Dever continued his thoughts. If that woman who survived the bombing was truly a spy.
What could she do to me?
He pulled out the certificate protruding from the stack of papers and read it again. Utterly ordinary info he could memorize in seconds. If anything stood out, it was the lack of a second recipient.
Only one family member, then.
His gaze halted on one spot as he skimmed the unremarkable document.
Amid the dense scars and scratches on the back of his hand was a new nail mark. Over it flashed the image of the woman clawing and hitting him in futile resistance.
Dever examined the marks with more interest than he'd given the certificate. Not deep, yet they'd lingered this long.
"What're you looking at?"
Dever lightly shook his head at Arthur's question.
The certificate Beth cherished so dearly now went into Dever's uniform inner pocket. Having reached his conclusion, Dever buttoned his uniform with a light expression. Not a gap in sight.
His decision was concise.
"Proceed with the operation as planned."
She can do nothing to me.
Dever, leading the vanguard, raised his right hand. Tension rippled through the following soldiers at that single gesture. The forest, infused with dawn's blue hue, was densely packed with endless trees.
Something felt off. But only a hunch.
Arthur signaled Dever, who remained stopped. A sign to stop delaying.
Per plan, they needed to cross the forest before afternoon and head allied-side. Countering the enemy's left-flank maneuver.
The final operation. Soldiers buzzed with thoughts of returning home after this. Retreating here meant endless battles again.
Trust animal instinct: retreat or advance as planned?
As Dever pondered, Arthur's right hand rose first. A signal without Dever's agreement.
In that instant, thunderous explosions enveloped the forest. Shells began bursting from Dever's army's right flank, drawing closer.
Damn it. Dever ground his teeth.
"It's a trap!!!"
"Aaaagh!!!"
Hidden enemy troops surged from beyond the forest right like a tide. Dever aimed rightward and bellowed.
"Fall back to B6 sector!!"
The muddy quagmire of battle began.
In the tangled masses, friend from foe blurred in endless hell. Screams and gunfire filled the asura field. No mercy from the gods.
Conifers toppled by shell blasts everywhere, shaking the earth; vibrations rattled corpses. Bodies tumbling down narrow slopes were attacks unto themselves.
Time crawled slow, then raced.
From hazy dawn skies draping yellow morning sun, to thick afternoon light, death never paused.
The battle starting at daybreak ended only at sunset.
If Dever hadn't secretly dispatched reinforcements. The horror afterward was unimaginable.
Wounded filled military vehicles.
Dever slung the groaning, unconscious Arthur over his shoulder.
"To the lady's hospital."
A blood-vomiting crimson sky blanketed the army.
The ward reeked of soldiers' acrid blood, another battlefield.
"My God, Arthur."
Madam Molly sighed.
After checking Arthur's gunshot, she looked to Dever. He shook his head—no injuries. She nodded and dashed to the medicine room.
Blood-soaked Dever drew eyes. He looked the worst wounded outwardly. Many glances, but no approaches.
No one in the army hospital touched him but Madam Molly. Never had been.
Dever, in and out of army hospitals countless times, never questioned it. Too accustomed to fear.
In the chaotic ward's sole quiet, Dever met an approaching figure.
Beth Jens.
A name too common to forget.
In sky-blue nurse uniform—not stolen fatigues—she seemed familiar.
Skilled hands pulled Dever's arm to a chair, drew white curtains. Pitch-black eyes unmoving, intent unknown. Unhesitating fingers undid his shirt buttons.
Watching the woman backlit by white curtains awhile, Dever murmured low.
"Nothing. Move."
His gray eyes, bloodshot red, burned fiercely.
Beth sighed softly, hands roaming over the shirt. But what could be felt through congealed blood? Her brow furrowed slightly.
Beth's hands undid buttons more urgently. Dever shot up, but her stubborn grip held the collar.
"Goddamn stifling."
Flung curtains drew eyes to their tussle.
Dever whirled to leave. Simultaneously, Beth yanked the shirt hem reflexively. A loose battle-worn button rolled noisily on the floor; his bare back exposed solely to her.
In that moment, Dever saw.
Beth, frozen beholding scars on his back.
"Damn it, what the hell!"
Dever's rage-filled roar echoed through the ward.