Chapter 39
Dixie was quite the proactive type in these situations. The very next morning, during the meeting with Lady Molly, she brought up the idea of the party.
As the meeting was wrapping up, and Lady Molly asked, “Any further suggestions?”, Dixie’s hand shot up.
“I have a suggestion.”
“Oh, really? Go ahead,” Lady Molly replied, her voice filled with trepidation as she noticed Dixie’s bright eyes and determined tone, though she attempted to mask her concern with a nonchalant gesture to continue.
“How about we hold a party to celebrate the upcoming Founding Day?”
“A party? Here?”
Everyone, except Beth, had the same puzzled look as Lady Molly. They were likely all thinking about the bomb-shattered windows and the worn-out floorboards, just as Beth had the previous day.
“I know things are still in a state of disarray, but wouldn’t it be a small comfort to the wounded soldiers who will be here until Founding Day?”
“But there’s nothing here… how would we…?”
Despite the speckles of freckles on her face, Dixie’s beaming smile couldn’t hide her excitement.
“This place used to be a hotel, remember? There must be something useful things left in the storeroom. If my friends help me, I’ll take charge and make it happen!”
It was a hotel, but it had been a run-down inn that catered only to passing travellers in the most remote part of Nexus before it went out of business.
Still, Lady Molly couldn’t bring herself to say that. She noticed that the faces around the table were starting to light up with excitement, much like a flower bud just before it blooms. They were all utterly endearing.
As she looked at them, she thought of the soldiers lying in the infirmary. The faces of Debert and Arthur, already showing the full bloom of youth, came to mind.
How ironic that the most beautiful things are gathered in the most dreadful of places. How is one to deal with such a contradiction?
Lady Molly nodded in agreement. Now was the time to step back and allow them their moment.
“Alright. Dixie, I’ll put you in charge of the Founding Day party. You have full authority over this project.”
“Really?!”
Dixie was so surprised that Lady Molly had readily agreed that she jumped up in excitement.
Caught up in the moment, Dixie gave Lady Molly an enthusiastic hug, causing her to grimace slightly in the tight embrace.
“Dixie! Oh dear! Stop behaving like a colt!”
The room filled with light-hearted laughter.
A few people who found themselves reluctantly on Dixie’s ‘friends’ list were now standing in front of the storeroom door that led to the basement. Their faces clearly showed how little they wanted to be there, but the party commander had no intention of going easy on them.
Led by Dixie, they hesitantly descended the stairs to the basement.
The storeroom, which hadn’t been opened for several years, released clouds of dust with each step they took. Ines coughed into a handkerchief, while Beth rubbed her stinging eyes.
“There should be a light bulb somewhere…”
Dixie, who had descended first, finally found a small bulb. After a few flickers, the light illuminated the room.
“Stop whining and get down here, wow!”
Their hesitant steps quickened at the sound of Dixie’s amazement.
“Wow.”
Even Ines let out a small exclamation.
The storeroom held a collection of useful items that had likely adorned the lobby of the rural hotel before the war began: red fabrics, chandeliers, and even a gramophone. The dim yellow light revealed a surprising array of treasures.
A box of champagne glasses was neatly packed inside one of the crates. Though covered in dust, they would be perfectly usable once cleaned.
While everyone else was busy inspecting the decorations, Beth stood in front of the gramophone. She blew on the dusty, pitch-black gramophone, dislodging clumps of dust with her breath.
She had only touched one of these once before, long ago, but her hands remembered the feeling well enough. Soon, the strains of a melody began to flow from the gramophone, like a blooming red trumpet flower.
“Oh? I know this song,” Ines remarked, recognising the tune.
The soft humming of a forgotten song filled the storeroom.
“Alright, everyone, pick something up and take it upstairs,” Dixie commanded sternly, her earlier joy quickly replaced with her usual assertiveness. However, the word “party” alone was enough to keep everyone’s spirits up.
A few soldiers, seeing them struggling with the boxes, lent a hand. Beth, too, got caught up in the work, busy moving crates alongside the others.
Debert, who was coming down the stairs, took a couple of steps up with a rather embarrassed look on his face and hid himself on the landing. Originally, he should have gone out through the back door at the time when Beth was the busiest.
Rolling his stiff shoulders at the disrupted plan, Debert observed the bustling scene below. Both the main entrance and the rear exit were crowded with people, all engrossed in their tasks.
His attention drifted back to the staircase below. The figure of Beth, moving to and fro with her dark hair, was utterly absorbed in her work, oblivious to anyone watching her. She was too preoccupied with moving the crates under Dixie’s orders to even imagine someone observing her.
Debert watched every moment intently, as if memorising it all. How she smiled in his absence, frowned at times, or pouted in displeasure. He took in every little detail.
His head tilted slightly as he observed. Beth was often cheerful, easily laughing and finding joy with her friends even without them saying much.
With a slight flick of his long fingers, Debert beckoned.
“Yes, Commander?”
One unlucky soldier, who had been trying to discreetly slip past the imposing presence of his commanding officer, was caught in Debert’s gaze.
“Take off your jacket.”
“J-Jacket, sir?”
The soldier hesitantly handed over his jacket, which bore nothing but a single black stripe, signifying his low rank.
Debert handed over his own coat.
“Wear mine until I return. You can leave it anywhere. Oh, and give me your cap as well.”
The soldier’s face showed his discomfort. Anyone who saw the medals on the jacket would instantly recognise it as belonging to the commander, but Debert seemed unconcerned.
Forcing his body into the ill-fitting uniform and pulling the cap low over his face, Debert glanced once more at Beth before quickly descending the stairs, seizing the moment when her back was turned.
By the time Beth looked back, all she saw was a familiar figure walking out the front door. She wondered if there was anyone else here of Debert’s height, but quickly dismissed the thought with a shake of her head.
Her busy hands paused for a moment.
As Beth replayed the brief glimpse of the back, she thought she might have caught sight of ashen hair. But she dismissed the thought. Surely, if he were in his right mind, he’d at least stay still until his wounds healed.
Beth had already forgotten that Debert rarely acted in a way that matched her idea of sanity.
* * *
“What’s with those clothes? Did you get robbed on your way here?”
Debert shrugged as he removed the military cap he had been wearing. He shook his hair lightly and then sat down in the chair.
“Where is he?”
“He’s on his way.”
Just as the words left his mouth, a stretcher was carried into the tent.
On it lay a man who was so battered he hardly resembled a person.
“Well, technically, he’s being carried here,” Debert’s companion added.
Without a word, Debert grabbed the large man’s chin and turned his face from side to side. After a few firm slaps on the cheeks, the man’s eyelids, which had briefly fluttered open, snapped shut again.
“Don’t play games with me. Open your eyes.”
The harsh tone forced the man to squint his eyes open.
“P-please, spare me,” the man stammered, his voice trembling despite his large build.
“Why did you smash his face?” Debert asked, lifting one of the man’s thick ankles and then dropping it, causing the man to groan in pain.
“You should have severed the tendons. At least that would reduce the number of guards we need.”
“Do you think this is a joke?”
“No, I’m serious.”
Debert glanced at the side table. His hands flipped through the stacked documents with little care.
“You’re planning to let him live.”
The papers were full of agreements disguised as treaties. After a year of war, which had begun with an attack from Kovach, the outcome of the conflict was inevitable.
Debert forcibly placed a pen in the man’s hand.
“W-what is this?” the man stammered, raising his chin as much as his jowls would allow. It was clear that he was too simple-minded to understand the document in front of him.
Debert gripped the man’s hand tightly, almost as if he would crush it, and scrawled the pen across the paper.
“Take him away,” he ordered.
At the brief command, the soldiers standing guard at the entrance efficiently lifted the stretcher.
“Wait a moment.”
Debert suddenly remembered something and called the soldiers back.
“Is he receiving treatment from the medical staff as well?”
“I made sure of it. I was told not to let him die until everything was sorted.”
Debert slowly ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. The way his cheek bulged and then flattened out was an unsettling sight.
“From now on, keep the prisoners in strict isolation. No exceptions, not even for the medical staff. You’re dismissed.”
Once the prisoner was gone, Debert focused solely on the documents. There were dozens of sheets of paper, each with a blank space requiring the commander’s signature.
Even though all wars were merely a crawl through the lowest depths of human existence, their endings always managed to feign an air of sophistication.
But even that ridiculous act was Deberman’s privilege.
“This will be the last time I will do this.”
On the final page of countless treaties, the sharp signature of the Cliff family was etched.
* * *
It had been a busy day. Outside of their regular duties, everyone at the hospital was required to clean and organise the items from the storeroom under Dixie’s orders.
“I’m never, ever doing a party again,” Ines muttered through clenched teeth, expressing the sentiments of the group.
Beth was just as exhausted, but the music playing from the gramophone provided a small reward. She sat on the stairs, listening to the melody as it drifted through the air.
The unexpected tunes lifted the spirits of both soldiers and injured patients as they moved through the hospital. Despite being an old song, it had a unique way of reminding everyone of the peaceful days before the war.
With a bag of medicine and bandages in hand, Beth walked down a familiar hallway. By the time she reached the fourth floor, the music had faded, but it was still there, faintly.
Would the music reach the isolation room as well? I hope it does, Beth thought to herself. Even though the music wasn’t something she had prepared, her spirits were unusually high. However, the moment she opened the door, that feeling plummeted.
He was gone again.
There was no sign of Debert anywhere in the room. As the suspicion she had dismissed earlier that morning solidified into certainty, she strode across the room and flung the window open. Given that he had even changed his clothes, it was clear he had planned this deception. And, of course, there he was, casually strolling through the hospital’s back garden.
How could someone so disobedient be a commander? Or maybe it’s because he doesn’t listen that he became one.
Beth silently poured out her complaints in her mind as she picked up the ointment tin from her pocket.
The dull thud of the tin hitting the ground made the man look up.
“Caught me.”
His words were nonchalant, but his face didn’t show the slightest hint of surprise. Having seemingly abandoned the pretence of hiding, he was no longer wearing the military cap or the jacket he had borrowed from a subordinate.
“It’s cold, close the window.”
Debert approached the building, looking up at the woman glaring down at him from the fourth floor. Even from a distance, he could see the flush on her cheeks and the irritation in her eyes.
As he reached the wall below the window, Debert placed one hand against it. The itch crawling up his spine made him briefly lower his head before looking back up at Beth, who was still standing there.
Debert tilted his head slightly.
“It’s too high to climb up.”
Even if it’s too high to reach…
“Come down to me.”
He no longer wanted to retreat.
(T/L: These chapters are so sweet. This story is really a roller coaster.)
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