Chapter 13
“Quick, to the operating room!”
At Lady Molly’s cry, Arthur sprang into action. Blood, indistinguishable as to whom it belonged, soaked the bed and was soon spreading across the floor.
Arthur could be seen lifting the limp body of the woman. The arms that once seemed lifeless now showed no sign of the remaining spark of life.
The cries and sobs of the nurses, who were belatedly aware of the situation, mingled with shouts and the sound of military boots, creating a chaotic scene.
The woman in Arthur’s arms was brought to Debert. No, it would be more accurate to say she was carried to him.
A red-stained hand that had been dangling in the air brushed against the hem of Debert’s pristine white shirt. A red slash was drawn on his flawless chest, as if blaming him for the failed operation.
The footsteps of the group faded away, leaving behind a profound silence that filled the void left by the earlier commotion.
Debert remained standing, just as he had when he issued his orders. The only difference was the scarlet mark the woman had left on his shirt.
The blood that had been steadily expanding its territory had now reached Debert’s boots. Watching the small pool of blood, Debert took a step back.
Arrogant Debert. The mocking blood slowly followed him.
Another step back. And another.
It was a macabre game of hide and seek.
“Debert!”
Arthur called out to Devert loudly, but Devert’s footsteps headed toward the door leading outside, not the operating room where people were gathered.
It wasn’t just Arthur who witnessed Debert walking away without so much as a glance at the operating room. Rapnel, awakened by the midnight commotion, also watched his heartless retreat. Her blue eyes, framed by a shawl, persistently followed Debert.
Only the doctor and Lady Molly entered the surgery room, leaving Beth’s anxious friends helplessly pacing outside.
Ines, sniffling and fretting beside her caught Rapnel’s impatient glance, but what came out was a voice full of concern and affection.
It was never difficult to play the role of the lovely Princess Rapnel. Even in situations like this, where everything grated on her nerves, the act came naturally.
“What will happen to her?”
“I don’t know. Sniff, it looks like she was shot. What do we do?”
Ines buried her head in Rapnel’s arms, and soon Rapnel poured out sweet words of comfort.
Arthur met Rapnel’s inscrutable blue gaze.
What are you worried about? Rapnel’s eyes curled into crescent moons, but the cold look in her eyes immediately hardened her expression. The only ones who didn’t follow her whims were her half brother and that wretched wolf.
Rapnel’s gaze returned to the crowded surgery room. Inside was the woman who had caught Debert’s attention. Although she had never truly possessed Debert, she had never once believed he wasn’t hers.
From the moment she first saw him, when he was seventeen and entered the imperial palace in triumph with Duke Cassius, Debert Cliff had become the most coveted jewel for Rapnel.
In a palace steeped in deception and hypocrisy, she wore the mask of the lovable Princess Rapnel, always searching for the next step to climb higher. The desire to live a life different from her mother, who had always lived in the shadow of the golden light, kept her awake every night.
To be the highest woman in Nexus. To be revered by all. To be untouchable. Far more valuable than a mere princess, a trinket for display.
The position beside the Cliff family.
There was no one in Nexus who didn’t know that the Emperor both relied on and feared the Cliff family. The endless military campaigns were rumoured to be a means to prevent a possible civil war with the Cliff family.
Rapnel was confident that a marriage with her would benefit both the imperial family and Debert. The Emperor would find it easier to keep Debert under surveillance, and Debert could withdraw from the accursed war.
Rapnel judged that a man who had always been in the position of a ruler would never marry a woman of little significance.
In that case, the position must be mine. After all, I’m the one who’s been by his side the longest.
“That girl must survive.”
The habitual lie slipped from her lips. If lies were a sin, she would have been cast into hellfire long ago. She swallowed her self-mocking thoughts.
“Unexpected events bring misfortune.”
The moment she saw Debert standing frozen, looking at the woman carried away by Arthur, she knew a new variable had arisen.
I hope that girl doesn’t carry away all the misfortune with her.
Rapnel prayed for the greatest mercy she could offer.
* * *
As soon as Debert arrived at the barracks, he roughly opened the drawer. He swallowed the few remaining pills and poured the last of the vodka down his throat. The burning sensation told him he was still alive.
Everything had gone according to plan. The lieutenant bought time with his provocation, the sniper appeared at just the right moment, and the hostage didn’t resist.
But one final variable made a mockery of his arrogance.
He had assumed that Beth, being timid and too weak to control the recoil of a gun, would remain still until he rescued her.
His premature judgement of Beth had led to a fatal miscalculation.
At the last moment, just as the sniper pulled the trigger and the lieutenant, unable to contain his anger, was about to fire, Beth used all her strength to twist the gun’s muzzle in the opposite direction.
The gun that was aimed at Beth turned towards the lieutenant’s head, and because the target’s position suddenly changed, the sniper’s bullet, which was already fired, hit Beth.
Debert’s rough hand clenched and unclenched the pill bottle repeatedly. His hands, like the white bottle, were spotless. He recalled the sight of the bandage on Beth’s hand turning crimson.
His unfocused eyes stared at the dawn breaking outside.
Beth hadn’t trusted Debert.
That must be why she acted that way. Is she dead?
A dazed feeling spread through him, causing his vision to blur. In the haze, he thought he saw Beth’s dark, resentful eyes once more.
Hours later, Debert was roughly shaken awake by Arthur. The duke, his wounds now mostly healed, was dressed in his uniform. The scattered pill bottles and the spilt alcohol on the floor told the story of Debert’s night.
Debert lay sprawled on the cot, looking up at Arthur’s face. A bitter laugh escaped him as he saw the prince’s expressionless face.
So, she’s dead.
Debert’s hand reached for the bottle on the nightstand.
“Stop drinking so much.”
Staggering as he stood, Debert towered over Arthur despite his hunched posture. His imposing gaze bore into Arthur, who met his friend’s eyes squarely.
“Get a grip, Commander Debert Cliff. Are you planning to visit the hospital while you’re still drunk?”
“Visit?”
His voice was harsh and cracked.
“She’s alive.”
Arthur snatched the bottle from Debert’s hand and took a swig before settling into a chair. The harsh taste of the alcohol made him grimace.
“If you drink this much at once, you’ll get addicted, you know that?”
“What do you mean she’s alive?”
“What do you think I mean? The woman you ordered killed is still alive. I thought she had some serious spirit when she smacked that perverted bastard in the head.”
Arthur shrugged and continued.
“Of course, I know you didn’t really mean for her to die, but from Beth’s perspective, how could she have known your intentions? She was fighting to survive in her way. Whether that’s a good thing or not, I can’t say. Lady Molly said, ”
Before Arthur could finish, Debert stormed out of the barracks. He burst into the hospital, ignoring the salutes from the soldiers, and ran up the stairs. His heart beat in time with his racing footsteps.
He stopped in front of the isolation room where the earlier chaos had occurred.
Debert ran a hand over his gaunt face.
“Idiot.”
He had left without hearing where Beth was, so he didn’t even know if he was in the right place.
In hindsight, there was no reason for him to be here. Although the plan had gone awry, the hostage survived, and the traitor was eliminated. Perhaps Beth would prefer if he didn’t come.
The lingering alcohol in his system made his mouth taste bitter.
“Debert?”
Just then, Lady Molly, who was exiting the isolation room, noticed Debert standing blankly by the door. A small sigh escaped her as she took in his appearance—no coat, still wearing the blood-stained shirt from the night before.
“Did you come to see Beth?”
Her voice was heavy with fatigue. Even her usually immaculate hair was dishevelled, a rare sight for someone seasoned by years of war. This morning had been no easy task, even for her.
“She was incredibly lucky. Truly. A hair’s breadth away, and she wouldn’t be here. The blood everywhere was from the lieutenant, not her.”
Lady Molly pressed her temples as if trying to ease a headache.
“She collapsed from extreme stress. It’s understandable.”
She looked up, meeting Debert’s silent gaze.
In her memory, the boy who once barely reached her waist had the same eyes. The child who knocked on her door, terrified of his father, had grown into the empire’s symbol of fear.
He was every inch the commander of the imperial army, but when he stood there silently like this, it made her chest ache, as if she were looking at the little boy she couldn’t save.
“Go on in.”
Afraid of saying something foolish in her nostalgic state, she left before she could speak further.
Debert cautiously turned the knob. The room was spotless, as if nothing had happened. It didn’t seem like the same place that had been filled with screams and cries just hours earlier.
The dark hair against the white sheets was the only sign that Beth was there. Since she was asleep, she wouldn’t know someone had entered, yet Debert found himself holding his breath.
He felt he had to. Somehow, it seemed that she wouldn’t welcome any sound, scent, or anything from him, even if it was only in her dreams.
Her pale face looked even more emaciated than it had when he’d seen her at dawn. The dried bloodstains on her cheek bothered him.
His hand reached out, as though the distance that kept him from approaching could be bridged. Just like when he had held her hand in the medical supply room, the unfamiliar warmth touched his hand.
He carefully brushed her cheek, afraid she might wake if he applied too much pressure, like handling a delicate piece of glasswork. Yet the dried bloodstains, stubbornly clinging to her skin, remained unmoved by his gentle touch.
Debert’s brow furrowed slightly.
At some point, he had perched on the edge of the bed, his thumb brushing more firmly against her soft skin, allowing him to feel the texture more clearly.
After what felt like an eternity, Debert sensed a faint movement against his hand, as if the body beneath his touch remembered it.
“……”
Hesitating, Debert’s gaze slowly lifted.
Dark eyes were staring back at him.
