Chapter 53
Chapter 53
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 53
Chapter Title: The Last Tent
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The open field, once crammed with tents pressed tightly together, now stood desolate after their withdrawal. As Collins reflected anew on how many vibrant young lives had been risked and lost in this stark place, he couldn't hold back a heavy sigh.
His somber gaze shifted to the sole remaining tent, still bearing the marks of wartime.
That one belonged to Dever.
To the very end, Dever was a man who couldn't escape the war. It was the duty of an army commander—and the way of a hellish life.
Now, with no one left to guard the outside, the tent looked utterly lonely.
He approached the entrance, but no sound came from within.
"Commander Dever. May I come in?"
Collins cleared his throat awkwardly and waited for a reply. Soon, a low voice drifted out.
"Come in."
The tent seemed barely holding its shape; inside, there wasn't even a single chair left—just a low side table remained.
Dever, neatly dressed as he gathered the stacks of wartime documents from atop it, greeted Duke Collins properly.
"You haven't left yet."
Collins studied Dever's composed face closely. But perhaps he himself was just an old man now; he couldn't read Dever's expression.
Suddenly, he recalled the derogatory nickname that called Dever the ghost of the late Cassius.
That stubbornly serene face bore a resemblance somewhere to the Duke Cassius in his memories.
"Same reason as you, isn't it?"
Dever's hand paused as he gathered the scattered papers.
"I'm the army commander. I can't just leave easily."
Dever's shoulders, slightly hunched from the low table, slowly straightened. Tension rippled along the crisp seams of his shirt.
"The medical staff can depart with lighter hearts."
Collins let out a deep sigh.
Where to even begin? A small dilemma crossed his mind.
"I haven't seen Beth."
Collins adjusted his glasses, which had slipped down the bridge of his nose.
"Beth is nowhere to be found."
"Is that so."
Dever murmured, then nodded quietly.
She's really gone.
The certainty layered upon certainty brought a strange calm to his heart. Though there hadn't been much change before that either.
"I haven't seen her either."
"If even you don't know—"
"If not kidnapped, then she must have run away."
Ah, as if realization dawned, Dever's lips parted slightly.
"Or maybe she just went out. Field nurses all need permission for outings, right? Of course, this would be without permission."
Dever snorted softly as he neatly stacked the papers and tapped them on the table.
An outing without permission. Even saying it himself, it sounded ridiculous. But even that empty notion didn't feel bad.
Because if she went out like that, she'd just come back. Sometimes, even a lone breather was necessary.
The messy papers under his hand were now perfectly organized.
"From the next war, maybe we should add the army commander's approval for medical staff outings."
Collins was at a loss for words at Dever's words, already speaking of the next war before the air of armistice could even settle.
"Whether we do this again or not."
Dever gave a brief smile.
"That'll be up to Beth."
He escorted Collins outside in his flawless, courteous duke persona.
"The last vehicle will be here shortly. Your Grace, ride with me."
The speeding vehicle carried only Dever, Arthur, and Collins, aside from the driver.
The driver, ferrying royalty and a duke, was stiff with nerves, sweating profusely even in winter, but the atmosphere among the three he served was colder than the outside air.
Dever propped his elbow on the window sill, absently taking in the passing scenery.
Only at the forest edge leading to the now-vacant rear hospital did Dever recall that this was where he first met Beth.
The forest, bathed not in pitch-black darkness but in brilliant white sunlight, looked utterly peaceful.
This was where Beth had been.
Slumped over, searching for a syringe. Desperately trying to save a young, wounded enemy soldier.
Extending her palm as if to say something to him.
Trembling in fear, unable to hide her resentful gaze, yet unbuttoning her shirt.
In that moment, an enormous old tree flashed by outside the window.
Yes, that scent.
The scent that drove me mad.
That day, Beth's fragrance poured over him in the darkness, lingering at his nostrils. The black hair that softly whipped his face on the wind felt vivid even now.
Did you pass this road too?
The vehicle swiftly left the forest behind, heading toward the next village.
Where did you go?
Dever's thoughts relentlessly chased after Beth.
Even though not a single shadow of her remained.
The vehicle raced nonstop toward Wayne.
"Looks like we're almost there."
Arthur broke the oppressive silence. His parched voice cracked at the end.
"Yes, it's really Wayne."
Wayne, always dazzling year-round to display the empire's prestige, was even more festive now with celebrations of the armistice. Long before reaching the capital's outskirts, it was already bustling.
Golden decorations hung thickly from the large tree branches lining the road the military vehicle passed.
Gold, symbolizing unchanging value, was Nexus's emblem. Golden flowers blooming in midwinter perfectly showcased Nexus's enduring strength.
Soldiers from nearby the capital caused traffic jams reuniting with their families. No one needed to speak; the music and cheers from outside filled the tedious time instead.
"Oh dear."
The driver fidgeted, glancing at the army commander and reaching for the window. But Dever simply raised his hand.
"Let them be."
The people in front of the hood didn't even know who was in the blocked vehicle; they tearfully embraced their children or lovers.
"They've waited a long time."
How long had they waited for that reunion?
Dever was willing to waste his own time for them. It was his final mercy as army commander.
Tak.
A figure cloaked in a black robe leaped hurriedly into a speeding train.
The hood pulled so low that no face was visible hid even whether it was man or woman. But the loosely draping robe couldn't fully conceal the slender frame.
Perhaps due to the armistice, the train was more crowded than usual.
Chickens, ducks, and crowds mingled in total chaos.
The figure wove through the gaps, steadily advancing car by car. Even when shoved by burly passengers, they didn't look back.
When ill-mannered folk picked fights, the figure silently pressed on.
Only upon reaching the very last car did the figure lift their head. Their small chin trembled with ragged breaths.
The platform outside this car, occasionally used for smoking, was empty due to the cold weather.
Ignoring the knife-sharp wind, the figure claimed a spot out there in the freezing open.
The fierce gust snatched the flapping robe hood. Curly hair whipped wildly in the air.
Sharp wind grazed the uncovered pale face.
The figure was Beth.
Beth closed her eyes to cool her feverish heat.
Had she ever run like a madwoman in her life?
Ah, that time.
A memory she'd wanted to forget flashed over her throbbing head. Beth shook her head briefly.
Crouching with knees drawn up and face buried, the cold wind lessened, but her eyes kept stinging.
Round tear stains bloomed on the dark robe fabric.
By now, have they all gone to Wayne?
The brooch in her pocket painfully pricked her palm. Like self-punishment, Beth kept pressing its sharp edge.
If only blood would flow, maybe she'd snap out of it.
Even after running like this, enduring such icy winds, why did everything feel so faint?
Did they notice I vanished and get surprised?
Disappointed?
Angry?
Or... just forgotten?
Forgotten. That last question stung a little.
Only in the late dawn hours did Dever fall asleep. Even when she removed the hand around her waist, he didn't wake. The man always alert like a wild beast didn't stir at all.
So she greedily watched his face a while longer.
If only he'd woken then. Grabbed her as she slipped away.
Chewing on that selfish wish, she briefly kissed the lips of the man who'd said to trust her fully.
Even as she grabbed her clothes and dashed down the dark path, her mind stayed with him, left alone.
'Beth?'
Arthur had blocked her path.
'What brings you out at this hour.'
Beth had checked the supply truck's schedule beforehand, one arriving before dawn. In her pocket was a forged pass signed by Madam Molly.
She had to board that truck, reach the station before sunrise, and catch a train.
'Is something wrong?'
Arthur asked cautiously.
The driver, who'd delivered letters and packages to Arthur, saluted crisply and started the engine. Beth bit her lip.
As she yanked open the door, Arthur grabbed the handle.
'What's going on.'
Beth looked up at him pleadingly.
In her haste, she scribbled on her palm with a pen.
[Please pretend you didn't see.]
'Pretend I didn't see...'
[Please keep it secret.]
Fresh ink overlaid the remnants.
Arthur stared blankly at her small hand. Beth slowly climbed in. His grip on the handle slipped.
The truck pulled away from the tents.
Beth lifted her head, blinking wet eyes. The dry wind quickly stole her tears.
The train sped diligently in the opposite direction of Wayne. Just like how she'd bolted from Dever's tent.
In that instant, the train car door screeched open.
Beth didn't turn.
People usually came out here to smoke, yet no acrid tobacco scent wafted.
Beth closed her eyes again.
If only she could shut her ears too.
"Miss. I've been searching everywhere since you're not inside."