Chapter 46
Chapter 46
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 46
Chapter Title: Beth's Past
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Dever halted abruptly as he entered the hospital. Arthur, walking beside him, couldn't conceal his surprise at the unexpected flood of tears.
Spotting them, Collins gently set Beth down. With her eyes rimmed red, Beth quickly turned away and wiped at them with her sleeve.
"I figured you'd head straight to the barracks."
Dever withdrew his brief glance from Beth and approached Collins with his usual impassive expression.
"Shouldn't a doctor start at the hospital?"
"Uncle, you're here."
"Come on, even you calling me 'uncle'? What am I supposed to do with that, Your Highness?"
"Please spare me the awkward formalities, Duke Molly."
Arthur slung an arm around Collins's shoulders with a grin.
A bit shorter than Arthur but solidly built, Collins exuded a distinctive ease even among burly soldiers. Beneath his playful gaze as he scrutinized Dever, his eyes sharpened for a moment.
Madam Molly hadn't breathed a word of Dever's injury—too risky with letters potentially intercepted—but Collins knew better. The man always looked pristine on the outside, no matter the mess within.
"The Duchess is probably swamped right now. Come to the barracks first and share a meal with us. If you don't mind stale bread crusts and whiskey that could strip paint."
"Now that's right up my alley."
Collins let out a hearty laugh at Arthur's invitation, bid his disciples a quick farewell, and set off.
Dever, lingering a step behind, discreetly caught Beth as she passed.
"I'll pick you up tonight."
Collins glanced back casually, feigning nonchalance as he continued chatting with Arthur.
"How'd you slip away from the hospital? You're not the type to leave your post."
"It's time for an old codger like me to step aside. My hands shake just holding a scalpel these days, so I used the armistice as an excuse to make a run for it, you rascal."
No noble was unaware that Collins had cherished Dever and Arthur like his own sons since their childhood.
Collins was one of the rare few Dever truly trusted.
In truth, some couldn't fathom why. After all, Collins Molly had been Cassius's lifelong rival.
He wasn't the sort driven by political ambition like Cassius, but as one of the two pillars of the Nexus Dukes, he'd clashed with him at every turn.
Arthur poured whiskey with a sly smile.
"You're one of a kind, Uncle."
True enough.
Collins Molly was an unusual noble. Back when idleness was a virtue among the highborn, he'd enrolled in medical college alone—and even helped his wife do the same.
He'd been the most vocal supporter of Madam Molly's nursing school, which admitted both nobles and commoners. Without him, she couldn't have achieved all this on her own.
The late Emperor had quite liked the apolitical Duke Collins Molly. One double-edged sword like Cassius Cliff was plenty under his nose.
"In my eyes, you two are the odd ones. Charging into battlefields without a care for your necks."
The kerosene lamp illuminating the dim barracks glinted off his gold-rimmed glasses, just like Madam Molly's.
"Time you lived a life away from the front lines."
Collins met Dever's tightly pressed lips.
"That's the real one."
A full glass of whiskey sat untouched before Dever. He idly traced its rim—a habit when lost in thought.
As their banter mingled with weightier words dragged on, the sun began dipping outside the barracks. Arthur excused himself to tend to maintenance, leaving a brief silence over the side table between the two men.
Collins stroked his stubbly chin, his gaze deepening with a hint of concern.
"Breaking the mold? Turns out it's nothing much."
He tossed the words out casually, hiding his intent. The kid was sharp; he'd get it.
"Do you know much about Beth Jens?"
Collins let out a dry chuckle at the direct hit despite his circumlocution. Well, he never was one to shy away bashfully.
"If I know her, then yeah, plenty. If not, then zilch."
It was vague, but not a lie.
Collins quietly recalled the day he first met Beth. The image was vivid: a scrawny girl shivering in a baggage cart, wearing a threadbare dress exposing her ankles.
"Diana and I were heading back from a medical outreach when the little stowaway snuck into my cart, begging me to take her. Eyes full of terror, but burning with defiance."
He cleared his throat. Just thinking of it tugged at his heart.
"We'd been through the slums and back alleys that day. Probably fled from there... You can guess what life’s like for a kid in those places. She never elaborated, and we didn't pry."
When Collins asked her name, the girl pondered long before scrawling it in the dirt. After that, Beth Jens entered the nursing school as a scholarship student under the Molly Duke family's patronage. That was the start of their bond.
"Tiny thing's got secrets. Breaks my heart. We raised her like a daughter, and now you're stealing her away. Damn this battlefield—it's ruined you!"
Dever's lips twitched faintly at the booming scolding. Collins, nose stinging unexpectedly, shot to his feet and brushed off his seat.
"I'm off to see Diana. You go to the one waiting for you."
Dever bowed politely to Collins, who shot him a parting glare. The impeccable poise irked him somehow, prompting a loud fake cough.
The sky outside had already darkened to a thick winter ink.
The one waiting for me.
Dever mulled the phrase as he slipped a hand into his jacket pocket. The familiar note was right there, its corner worn smooth—the death gratuity certificate exactly as he'd taken it from Beth. Nothing had changed.
"Elizette Bamer."
He murmured the only name on it. Unfamiliar. Clearly a woman's, but the surname differed starkly from Beth's.
Dever's steps led slowly toward the forest path to the hospital. He tucked the certificate back against his chest.
That first night on this very path, he'd briefly doubted her existence. But it proved groundless. Still, he hadn't returned it—thanks to a base desire gnawing inside.
A desire whose reason he'd been ignorant of then.
He'd clung to that scrap of paper like it was the hem of her garment.
His polished boots left neat prints in the unmelted snow. No falter in those somewhat languid strides. Every path Dever had walked bore such marks—straight toward his goal, unwavering.
He seized what he craved, be it a war's victory or his father's death.
But for the first time, Dever felt true longing. Desire wasn't mere craving or aim; he was no innocent to mistake it.
He'd played the gentleman, saying he'd await her answer on marriage. Truth was, it hardly mattered. Imagining her consent from those lips—or that hand—stirred heat in his veins, but separately. Even if Beth Jens refused, nothing would change.
She was already by his side.
That was all.
Near the hospital entrance, a figure paced. The early twilight shrouded Dever completely in the forest shadows.
His slowing steps halted just one pace from the light. His gaze, empowered by darkness, fixed obsessively. Like a beast eyeing prey—or a lovesick youth stealing glances at the unattainable.
Beth rubbed her chilled fingertips together. Collins's surprise visit had the nurses' quarters buzzing louder than usual. Though others called her to join their simple supper, she'd mumbled an excuse and slipped out early.
Hasn't he come yet?
Glancing around, Beth's mouth parted slightly. There he was, still at the forest path's mouth.
Dever watched her approach. Her eager, sparkling steps held no wariness, just a touch of delight. He wet his dry lips.
He vividly recalled her face that similar night on this path—trembling in his neck's vise grip. Her panicked flailing, flushed cheeks, feet scarred and hidden.
Yet now, with clear eyes, she willingly stepped into his shadows. That strange thrill from the contrast crawled up his throat.
Desire swelled without bounds.
"I was coming to you. Why'd you come out early?"
At Dever's flat tone, Beth flushed, wondering if she'd seemed too eager. Hard to claim she'd been busy with the way she'd hurried over; she fidgeted with her fingers instead.
Dever's eyes dropped to her reddened fingertips. Her dark pupils darted about before settling on him.
He pondered briefly, touching his mouth. His chapped lips rasped against his skin.
Then he spoke.
"Want to go to the barracks?"