Chapter 56
Chapter 56
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 56
Chapter Title: Waiting for Her Return
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Sunlight poured through the gap in the curtains, stretching all the way to the bedside of Dever, who lay sprawled on the bed like a corpse.
Dever kept his eyes closed as if dead. His mind had been awake for some time now. But he didn't open them.
What for, exactly?
The war was over, the battlefield's cannon fire silenced. No more screams or shouts. This suffocating quiet was proof that he had no place in the world.
Silence had always been horrific. Until he met that woman.
"Your Grace, it's Oliver."
"Come in."
Dever raised a hand to shield his face from the morning sun angling down.
Soon, the doorknob clicked, followed by the familiar sound of footsteps.
"What brings the Prince all the way here?"
Dever asked without removing the hand over his eyes.
"You're like a ghost."
Arthur chuckled weakly as he slumped onto the sofa in the bedroom. His legs splayed out carelessly, shirt unbuttoned a few notches, lending him an air of languid exhaustion.
"I was worried after you stormed out so dramatically last night."
The words rang true; Arthur rubbed his bloodshot, gritty eyes.
"Do you know why I became friends with you?"
Arthur stared blankly out the wide window. Excluding the Imperial Palace, the Cliff Family gardens offered the most stunning view in Wayne.
The skilled butler kept the mansion impeccably beautiful, oblivious to how the vibrant estate contrasted with its indifferent master, making Dever seem all the lonelier.
"You always had this quirky side to you."
Arthur's gaze lingered on the garden, but his mind drifted back to when he and Dever were both fifteen.
"You'd do the unpredictable. Like charging forward in your first battle even though I could see the fear in your eyes. Or tearing through the mountains on hunts like you meant to kill everything, yet always sparing the young ones."
Leaning his head back against the sofa, the sleep he'd missed finally washed over him. More comfortable in this frigid place than in his own palace quarters. Did that mean he still considered Dever a friend?
Arthur couldn't suppress a bitter scoff at himself.
"I thought that as you became the famed Cliff Commander, those traits had faded. But it was all my foolish illusion."
Dever lay still, as if asleep, listening to it all.
"You're the same as ever. No idea what's going on in that head of yours."
"Arthur."
The voice was chilling.
"Get to the point."
"What the hell is this resignation business?"
Dever slowly sat up. Though a hint of tension lingered, his face was pristine. He shed the wrinkled shirt, revealing a torso marred by scars from the war with the Kovah Army, fully exposed in the sunlight.
"I'm quitting because I'm bored."
"Hoyden suspects you."
"What can a mere duke without an army do?"
"You know that's not what I mean."
Dever slipped on a fresh shirt and picked up the whiskey bottle from the nightstand. Arthur turned at the sound of liquor trickling into a glass.
"Tell them to shut up and take the leash when it's offered."
Dever harbored no ambition to claim the Nexus for himself like his father. He bore an uncanny resemblance to Cassius, but not his desires.
Yet the Emperor refused to believe it.
The scrutiny wouldn't end unless Dever himself died. This abrupt resignation from army command wasn't the root cause.
"Is it because... Beth vanished?"
"Beth..."
Dever's lips curved.
His gaze darkened as it fell on the half-empty glass.
"Were you that close to her, that you call her by name?"
Dever crossed his long legs and sat opposite Arthur. His ash-gray eyes gleamed with unnatural vitality, belying a night of tossing and turning.
He looked possessed.
Arthur's expression hardened.
"Dever, snap out of it."
"Can I get any more snapped out than this?"
Dever muttered, as if to himself.
Casual words, but utterly sincere. He couldn't feel more clear-headed. His mind spun sharper than ever.
"You're going to look for that woman?"
"Look for her?"
Dever stared fixedly at his jacket hanging nearby. He sensed Arthur glancing there too, though the prince seemed oblivious to its significance amid the ordinary uniform.
Dever let a secret smile escape as he downed the rest of his whiskey.
How even the message suited his tastes perfectly.
"I'm waiting."
"Waiting?"
"She said she'd return, so I have to wait."
A heavy sigh escaped Arthur, like a groan.
"I just hope she comes back when I'm behaving myself."
Dever rose and headed to the dressing room. In a sleek black suit instead of his leather-clad uniform, he embodied the duke everyone envied.
"Where the hell are you going?"
Arthur stood, irritation sharpening his tone.
Dever buttoned his suit jacket and descended the long staircase with poised elegance. Sunlight streamed unfiltered through the corridor's abundant windows, inching toward noon.
The butler bowed to his master approaching against the brilliant light.
"Where shall I take you?"
The full estate view, shrouded in last night's darkness, now lay vividly clear. A world crafted solely for Dever Cliff.
"We need to let the master know I've arrived."
The butler nodded at Dever's cryptic words, signaling the driver. Dever paused before entering the car and called him back.
"Is there something you need?"
"Tend to the gardens."
"The gardens?"
The butler's wrinkled eyes widened briefly in surprise before settling. He never offered opinions to Dever.
"I'll see to it with utmost care."
"And."
Dever's extended finger pointed to the mansion's top floor.
"Clean the Duchess Cliff's room spotless."
Even the seasoned butler couldn't hide his emotional expression this time.
A few rooms in the mansion were sacrosanct. The Duchess Cliff's chamber was one. Sealed away, no one dared mention it lightly.
For the Duke to bring it up now.
The butler nodded, a touch of emotion on his face.
"Consider it done."
"I leave it to you."
The butler watched the departing car for a long while. Perhaps spring was finally coming to the Cliff estate, long locked in wintry chill.
A gentle smile touched his lips as he pondered the young duke's lineage. * * * Dever's car pulled up before the towering building at Wayne's heart, right at the main entrance.
Men alighting from cars and carriages stopped likewise halted at the sight of him. Dever turned graciously, acknowledging them with a light nod.
His arrival sent hurried footsteps echoing through the building.
"Ah, no... I didn't expect Your Grace."
A flustered middle-aged man stammered, unsure if addressing Dever or himself.
"I heard today was the board meeting. Isn't it?"
Dever replied with a gentlemanly smile and entered the boardroom.
"Dever?"
"The Duke's here?"
The unexpected visit stirred the room, but Dever ignored it, striding to the head of the long table.
"Your Grace, I assumed you needed rest."
The most senior director spoke first.
A lame excuse. Everyone knew they'd fattened their pockets on backroom deals during Dever's absence at war.
Dever had turned a blind eye for years. Not out of generosity or naivety.
Just proof of his apathy.
His rare attendance at these annual rituals ended with a curt "Carry on as is." The Cliff Duke, viewing the world with dead eyes, was easy prey for the directors.
But this duke was different.
Something vital—life force?—flickered in those ash-gray eyes. Whispers of "war ghost" came unbidden to mind.
It felt like the living Dever Cliff had finally appeared. The directors broke into cold sweats.
"We can't leave the Cliff Family's signature in others' hands any longer."
Dever drew a fountain pen from his pocket leisurely.
"You've shouldered much in my absence."
Directors flipping documents froze.
"This board meeting will run long today."
Dever loosened his perfectly knotted tie casually.
"I plan to hear all about your devotion to the Cliff Family."
Dever surveyed the table with a relaxed smile. All older than him, yet greed knew no age.
He listened intently to their hesitant reports. Unbelievable for someone fresh from the battlefield, Dever dissected each issue with razor-sharp insight.
His every remark left them scrambling. Some had served since Cassius's days; in the young duke's face, they saw echoes of the old.
The noon meeting dragged until sunset. Even then, Dever stunned them by calling for a resumption tomorrow morning.
"He's driving us mad."
"Quiet, they'll hear."
"How much does he know?"
Once the room emptied, Dever stood.
Through the pitch-black window opposite stood the Imperial Hospital in Wayne.
"A hospital facing an arms company."
He let out a wry chuckle at the bitter irony.
His footsteps echoed eerily down the empty corridor, unlike the creaking chaos of battlefield hospitals.
"Your Grace, a message arrived."
The driver, waiting patiently, handed over an invitation. Dever took the familiar gold-embossed envelope, then lifted his head at the tolling bells.
The chimes heralded the true start of celebrations for the armistice.