When Reizen returned after organizing provincial forces, having gone without sleep for days, he encountered a sea of blood.

Though his face had grown gaunt compared to before, he maintained his composure. In war, a single misjudgment could claim hundreds of lives. Since every decision was made with this weight in mind, he had to steel his heart and press forward regardless.

“It was a miscalculation by the leadership.”

He couldn’t permit even the slightest weakness now.

“The prolonged civil war has left them mentally exhausted, diminishing their previous synergy.”

In the forest surrounding the imperial castle, the stench of rotting flesh was overwhelming.

A murder of crows circled the blue sky overhead, drawn by the scent of blood, marking the location like macabre sentinels. Though familiar faces lay among the dead soldiers, he averted his gaze, pretending not to notice. Each moment of delay strengthened their enemy’s position. In this atmosphere of mourning, should the enemy deploy secondary forces to attack, victory would prove elusive even for the greatest general.

After his swift assessment, Reizen announced.

“The provincial forces will arrive tomorrow morning.”

“So quickly?”

Whilton’s eyes widened in surprise.

“I sent over 100 transport vehicles. That’s what I kept them for.”

He watched his military academy classmate being carried away on a stretcher. Taking an uneven breath, Reizen issued instructions, maintaining his composure.

“We’ll collect all the bodies tomorrow. For now, tell everyone to withdraw and rest.”

His gentle tone seemed unsuited for war.

The man, his revolutionary army uniform adorned with dangling golden epaulettes, brushed back his long blonde hair. Three months without a trim had transformed his once-short hair into lengths that tickled his nose. Though his fine hair stayed manageable when pushed back, cutting it seemed prudent considering tomorrow’s battle and interview.

While walking and adjusting his hair, Whilton, who followed, said.

“Commander, you should rest too…”

“I’m fine.”

Reizen answered curtly and headed toward the barracks.

External support was crucial for boosting the revolutionary army’s morale. This required Reizen to maintain a consistent presence in newspapers, and thanks to his handsome features, newspaper companies swarmed like bees, maximizing the propaganda effect.

The secretary, waiting outside the barracks, spoke with apparent anticipation.

“There’s an interview in a separate barracks in an hour.”

“Yeah. That’s why I’m going to cut my hair.”

Reizen responded with a light smile and entered the barracks. Inside the tent, spacious like a circus tent, areas were partitioned into distinct sections. One side housed a library, another contained a vanity, and the innermost space featured a bed, though these were mere decorations to him.

He couldn’t recall when he last properly slept in bed during these past 3 months. While he’d dozed off in chairs or caught brief naps while traveling, his last proper rest was that day 3 months ago.

By Melissa’s side.

‘Melissa…’

The sight of the bed stirred memories of their home together. Those mornings spent lying in bed, facing each other with sleepy eyes and sharing meaningless laughs – those days now seemed like a distant, happy dream, leaving him with a profound sense of loneliness.

Upon returning to the barracks, Reizen checked the mail on his desk. Among the piles of correspondence, only her reply was absent, drawing a bitter smile from him.

‘Was this how Melissa felt every day?’

That emptiness of waiting for something that never arrives.

A constant void lingered inside. No amount of food could fill it, leaving his stomach hollow and painful, like missing a vital organ.

Food had lost all taste, and during his brief naps, Melissa’s voice haunted his dreams.

The more he yearned for her, when he wiped his eyes after waking, dry tear powder would stain his hands.

Ah, Melissa…

She had been the only true home for Reizen, who had lived like a drifter. Only when he knew she waited did he begin considering returning to the territory bestowed with his title – a responsibility that had seemed thrust upon him. He longed to return home and rest.

He yearned to see her face.

He wondered about the growth of their child in her belly. Seeing how she doted on Clara, he hoped for a girl. How delightful would it be to watch those two lovely beings playing house on a garden blanket?

Would her pregnancy be showing by now?

Learning of her discomfort, he had instructed his secretary to attend to various matters for her, but wartime left little opportunity to properly address these concerns.

His small devotion manifested through handwritten letters. Since their relationship had flourished through letters during previous separations, he wrote during his sleeping hours, hoping this connection might work again.

Whilton criticized him for wasting time on potentially unread letters instead of tending to his basic needs and rest, but Reizen dismissed such advice from someone who’d never experienced romance.

Honestly… how could those feelings not be uncomfortable after departing following such a conversation?

“I don’t regret it. Even if I went back in time, I’d do exactly the same.”

That dawn after their fight, seeing her sleep with swollen eyes made him feel overwhelmed by his own inadequacy. If only he could have managed everything without causing her pain from the beginning…

The revolutionary army had already planned the annihilation of Duke Grey’s family, and to save Melissa and her sister according to the Duke’s wishes, seizing power remained the only option.

But that belonged to the past now…

Since Melissa ended up hurt, any explanation would sound like an excuse to her.

The only path forward lay in proving himself through actions and results.

“…”

He longed to complete his work and return to her with pride. To show her the world he had created. He wanted that remarkable woman to acknowledge him and accept it as truth rather than excuse. But…

‘I didn’t expect the civil war to drag on this long.’

Reizen smiled bitterly while cutting his hair before the mirror. Sharp scissors sliced through blonde strands with a scratching sound, pieces falling to the floor like shed attachments.

Following this, Reizen completed the interview with an almost possessed smile, and after 3 hours of meetings, devoted the night to organizing military forces.

At dawn, the anticipated provincial revolutionary army arrived in the capital.

Cargo vehicles loaded with new weapons arrived in succession. The man shouldered a gun heavy like iron, declaring he would verify the weapons’ performance himself, and pulled down his hat.

Sys Imperial Year 49, October 31.

On this night, dawn’s darkness spread like blue fog. The Revolutionary Alliance mobilized their forces merely 12 hours after suffering about 200 casualties.

In the imperial castle, the Crown Prince and several nobles who had celebrated the operation’s success lay in drunken slumber. The Revolutionary Alliance infiltrated through an abandoned secret passage behind the Rose Maze, breaching the main castle within an hour.

This time, Reizen Kalphenster led from the front, armed with a gun and a sword. The blue-eyed man, his face spattered with blood, spoke with a gentle smile.

“Want to know Selheim’s weakness?”

Whilton shrugged, appearing uncertain.

“Now as before, he underestimates me.”

Even after repeated deceptions, he remains arrogant and careless, believing that someone like me ‘wouldn’t dare’ challenge him.

People who view others from above naturally tend to look down on those they consider beneath them.

Reizen guided his elite unit directly to invade the Crown Prince’s quarters.

Hardened by harsh military school training and surviving numerous near-death experiences at the border, such challenges held no fear for him.

With a mission assigned, success was all that mattered.

Yet when he finally pulled back the Crown Prince’s bulging bed covers, he found only a noble of the Crown Prince’s faction, bound with ropes.

“Ha.”

He escaped again?

Reizen laughed coldly.

“Does this make any sense? Whilton. Erich.”

Beyond mere mockery, to have the king vanish at apparent checkmate.

Moving this swiftly yet still managing escape – did this suggest another spy within the revolutionary army? How else could information have leaked…

That’s when Erich called from behind.

“Reizen!”

Even those with personal friendships typically addressed him as Commander in the presence of other soldiers. Using his name indicated only emergencies… but…

“Reizen!”

“Commander! Ah, ah!”

Though he heard no sound, his chest felt warm. The red flower blooming on his uniform spread its petals with increasing vibrancy.

Piiiiing—

Accompanied by the ringing in his ears and his darkening vision, a man was shot dead where he stood.