Chapter 37
Even in the deep hours of the night, the dimly lit corridors of the hospital echoed with the whispers of those unable to sleep. The intense heat of the final battle hadn’t subsided easily.
As the screams and cries faded, a cautious sense of excitement about the end of the war began to blossom, as if it were a natural progression.
Arthur had suggested that the joy of peace should replace mourning for the fallen. It was a decision made to avoid burdening the survivors with the guilt of having lived through to see this day that marked the end of the war.
Ines sat beside Gale, who was asleep with his bandaged legs, his pale face showing a chaotic mix of anxiety and relief.
Beth, observing them quietly, made her way up to the fourth floor.
Debert lay there, still unconscious. The bandages wrapped around him were stained dark red with fresh blood, and the scars peeking through were no different from before.
She wanted to do something for him, but in the end, she had done nothing. All she had done was leave unnecessary scars.
Beth’s hand trembled as she hovered it over Debert’s shoulder wound, afraid to touch it for fear of causing him pain.
If they weren’t close to each other, if he didn’t call out to her first, they would always be out of sync, just like when she found him being carried away on a stretcher but couldn’t reach him.
Her voice couldn’t call out to this man.
She gently held Debert’s sleeping hand.
[I wish you could hear my voice]
It was a confession she made, knowing it would never be conveyed.
[I wish you would turn around when I call you]
As the dawn deepened, the number of confessions that could not be reached increased.
* * *
Due to the shortage of hospital beds, those with relatively minor injuries were either treated as outpatients or waited for the once-daily visits to the barracks.
During this time, Beth had to stay busy enough to forget about Debert.
The morning’s rounds only finished as dusk began to fall.
“It’s finally over. Whew.”
Barden stretched and sighed deeply.
Only then did Beth step out of the dark, makeshift infirmary.
The deep violet sky stretched above them, almost menacing in its intensity. Beyond the horizon, a crescent moon began to emerge. The sky had looked just like this when she and Debert had risked their lives to plunge down that steep path.
It wasn’t a path, but rather, it felt like they were diving into a sea of violet.
Beth hurried to load her belongings into the vehicle. She had to get back to the hospital as quickly as possible. He might have woken up by now. Unaware of her urgency, Barden muttered something inconsequential about being hungry.
“Ah, Your Highness. Hello.”
“Oh, yes. Hello.”
Hearing a familiar voice, Beth turned to meet Arthur’s gaze. He quickly averted his eyes.
“Are you feeling alright?”
Arthur hesitated at the concern in his voice.
“Could it be that you’re injured? If so, we should-”
“I’m not.”
He quickly cut him off.
“I… I’m not injured anywhere.”
A flush of heat rose to his neck.
“I’m really glad to hear that.”
The sincere words made me feel even more embarrassed. He could still feel her dark eyes on him.
This was shame. Fear, and weakness.
He was worried that she might mock him for being unscathed.
“Take care.”
He turned his back almost in a hurry, and soon, the sound of the vehicle’s engine grew distant.
Only when the surroundings fell silent did he glance back at the now-empty road. Of course, Beth, who had stood there moments ago, was already gone.
“What am I hoping to see there?”
He muttered a quiet self-reproach.
“Are you still alive?”
Arthur’s voice was tinged with disbelief as he addressed the sentry, who meekly responded that it was indeed the case.
The commander had arrived slightly later than expected, but now, he exuded an aura as intimidating as General Debert himself.
Arthur stepped into the tent, sealed tightly against the light.
“Hello.”
Arthur, now cleansed of the battlefield’s grime, appeared in his usual charming persona as the beloved prince of Nexus.
“What are you planning to do with me?”
The man tied to the chair shouted, his voice betraying his fear despite his defiance.
“Shut up. I’m not fond of blabbering.”
Arthur’s lips curled slightly. The odd affection in his tone only heightened the tension, making him all the more unpredictable.
The man’s large frame trembled uncontrollably, a pitiful sight that Arthur watched with calm scrutiny. His blue eyes were more alert than ever, keenly observing every change in his opponent.
“Even if you kill me, it won’t accomplish anything. Just think about it. Nexus has already won. What difference does it make if you kill me? I’ll give you whatever you want. Everything, everything.”
Arthur’s lips twisted in a sneer of contempt.
“What could a mere Kovach possibly offer Nexus? If you want to live, show some respect. Right now, your life is worth less than a stray dog’s.”
“My-my point is, could you please speak to Duke Debert for me?”
With a loud bang, the nightstand shook, causing the man to flinch.
“I’ve never liked you from the start.”
Even though he was the crown prince of his country, to see him groveling in front of the enemy for his life—it was pathetic.
“I’d kill you right now if it were up to me.”
At those words, the chair the burly man was tied to moved violently, the weight of his restrained limbs thudding heavily against the floor.
“No, you can’t. Please, you know my situation. Even if no one else does, you must understand. It’s all for the sake of my position. Yes, that’s the only reason I came to the battlefield. I had no idea what the Kovach army did to Nexus. It was all my father—no, the emperor’s decision.”
His excuses poured out rapidly, desperate and disjointed.
Arthur paid no attention, simply clenching and unclenching his fist as he crossed his long legs. Despite having thrown himself into the brutal battle yesterday, it was almost miraculous that he bore not a single wound.
People always said he was a lucky prince, but had his fate truly changed to match that?
“You’re in the same situation as I am, Your Highness!”
In his mounting anxiety, the man finally said something he should never have uttered.
Arthur’s golden eyes, which had been staring blankly into space, slowly lifted. The man realized his mistake, but there was nothing else he could say. Whether he stayed silent or spoke out, he was doomed either way, so he might as well try something.
“Your Highness, you know how difficult it is for someone like us, born from the emperor’s concubine. Please, have pity on me—”
The man couldn’t even finish his plea before Arthur’s fist sent him crashing to the floor. Arthur’s rough hand crushed the man’s mouth. Though his hands were unusually refined for a man, the sheer force he exerted was anything but gentle.
“How dare you compare your filthy blood to mine?”
“Mmmph!”
Arthur’s fist slammed into the man’s face once again. The sickening sound of bones and flesh being crushed echoed through the tent.
The guards standing outside, listening to the commotion, speculated among themselves that the prisoner was likely dead, given the fading groans. If they were thinking that, it was no wonder that Arthur, who couldn’t see the man’s condition, was also unaware.
Arthur’s eyes, unfocused and seemingly broken, were not looking at the man at all.
Instead, those eyes were fixated on his own reflection in the man’s mangled face.
“Do you know what kind of person I despise the most? Someone who resembles me.”
The way the man was desperate to cling to life had grated on him from the beginning.
There was nothing unfamiliar about the way he begged for his life.
The self-pity over his lowly birth was all too familiar as well.
“Someone like you, like me? Say it! You bastard! Do you think you’re like me?”
Arthur shook the man violently by the collar. Despite the man’s inability to respond, with his eyes rolled back, Arthur didn’t stop beating him.
—
It had become a given that Beth was now in charge of all aspects of Debert’s treatment.
When she first heard the term “personal nurse,” she wondered what scheme that man was up to again. But now, thinking about how it had actually come to pass, she couldn’t help but let out a wry laugh.
The man was no different than he had been the previous night. She would once again face an uncertain wait.
Because he had told her to wait.
The darkening sky eventually turned pitch black, and as always, the white moonlight shattered as it touched the man lying prone.
Watching his peaceful sleeping face, Beth suddenly reached out and brushed away the hair covering his eyes. As she did so, his closed eyelids were fully revealed.
Perched on the edge of the bed, she cautiously stroked his soft ash-grey hair and eyelashes. She hoped that the warmth and the good dreams she wished for him would reach him as she tenderly caressed his sharp features.
And, as if in response to her thoughts, his closed eyes slowly opened.
Beth didn’t withdraw her hand.
The man’s eyes blinked slowly.
“Is this a dream…?”
His voice, cracked and dry, barely escaped his lips.
Beth continued to gently stroke his face.
“It doesn’t seem like you…”
Debert’s hand covered hers. His gaze slowly moved up to meet hers, his lips brushing against her palm.
For the first time, Beth saw an unguarded look in his eyes. Debert Cliff’s gaze, devoid of calculation or understanding, had an unexpectedly boyish quality.
“Were you waiting for me?”
Even the faint tremor at the end of his question was transmitted without concealment.
Beth nodded in response.
Debert stared at the woman in front of him for a long time. The woman who said she had waited for him and was now caressing his face.
“It must be a dream.”
He tightly shut his eyes once more.
Never, not once, had his dreams been sweet. But could something this sweet really be reality?
“I mustn’t wake up.”
It didn’t matter what it was.
Whether it was a dream or reality, he didn’t want to wake up.
In a fading voice, Debert muttered to himself.
He mustn’t wake up. He mustn’t wake up.
