All those memories she could only bury, memories of trembling whenever she saw him, even while living in constant fear of being found out. Of being so afraid, and yet unable to hide her heart whenever he was near.

The one and only person who came to mind whenever she felt anxious or unsafe. The one who had always protected Yuis Everett, who had been abandoned by both her parents and her country.

“If His Grace dies in battle, he has instructed that all responsibility for House Descartes be passed to you.
You may remarry, bear a child, and name that child the next Duke of Descartes—or appoint a suitable heir from a branch family. All will be left to your discretion. Should His Grace fall in battle, only your successor will be considered direct bloodline of Descartes.”

The words—that she would inherit Edric’s entire authority—still didn’t feel real.

But the truth was, the only one who hadn’t accepted it… was Yuis herself.
She had already been the Duchess of Descartes.

From the moment Edric accepted her. From the moment she stepped into the estate of Haneder. From the very beginning—she had always been the Duchess.

She had realized that truth far too late.

How could she have known… nothing at all?

It hadn’t been Edric who imprisoned Yuis. All this time, the one who had locked her away and kept her from escaping… was herself. Edric had been trying—constantly, desperately—to pull her out.

The sudden realization hit Yuis with a pain so sharp it stole her breath. She had told herself she could live just fine without him—but now, her breathing turned shallow, a broken moan escaping her lips as the weight of it all crushed her.

“Haah…”

If only she had known that would be the last time.
She would have looked at him a little longer.
She would have spoken honestly.

Told him that standing by his side had felt like a dream. That the insignificant Yuis Everett had felt so guilty for daring to love someone like him, she only wanted to push him away, escape, get out of reach. That she hadn’t been able to accept herself as Yuis Descartes. That maybe… she had wanted him even more than he had ever wanted her.

She should have said it. She should have been honest from the start. She should have spoken with him.

‘The truth is, I love you.’
‘I truly wanted to stand by your side.’
‘Not just as the Duchess who held the title, but as your wife. As your family.’

‘Edric, I wanted to cherish you.’

‘I wanted to be the one to soothe your wounds.’
‘I wanted to be truly happy—as your family.’

The moment she fully accepted that feeling, an unbearable sorrow crashed down on her, consuming her whole. She broke into sobs, as if vomiting her grief.

‘Edric… please. Come back to me.’

The confession she had never managed to say wrapped around her body like chains, breaking her down from the inside out. The sheer agony of knowing there was nothing she could do for the man fighting on the edge of death ripped through her, and the loathing she felt toward herself spilled out uncontainable.

Her weeping echoed through the room.

That night, Yuis wept until dawn.

As the sun rose over the horizon, she greeted the morning with tear-streaked cheeks, dried stiff with sorrow. Her gaze fell on the divorce papers—stained and crumpled.

With trembling hands, Yuis picked up the document and tore it apart.

‘If you’re going to deceive me like this, Edric…then I’ll fight back in my own way.’

She couldn’t let the divorce go through.
Not like this.
She would steel herself and wait for him.

Because Edric was strong.
Because he was the true master of Descartes.
Because he would return, just as he always had, appearing by her side when she needed him most.

***

Shells rained down like a storm. A pitch-black night, filled with deafening gunfire and the suffocating stench of blood. The soldiers stepping over countless fallen bodies wore nothing on their faces but raw desperation.

They ran. Fell. Ran again. Even if they stumbled over corpses, they couldn’t stop.

“Medic! Is anyone there?”
“Please! Someone! Over here! He’s been shot!”

There were far too few medics, and among the countless wounded, it was nearly impossible to tell who was still crying out.

“Help me! Please…!”
“Aagh! My knee! My knee’s gone, someone save me…!”

More and more soldiers begged for their lives, sobbing.
It was too dark to distinguish anything clearly—friend or foe.
Voices screaming for their mothers blended with the relentless thunder of gunfire, echoing without end.

They shot. Got shot. Soldiers ran on with severed limbs, others died clutching fallen comrades, only to be gunned down while weeping.

It was a nightmare. So horrific that no one wanted to believe it was real.

They sprinted, fired, ducked for cover, fired again, only to fall and the next soldier behind them would rush forward to take their place.

A shell exploded just beside Edric.
Had he been a single step closer, it would have ended him.
Everyone watching instinctively held their breath, but Edric didn’t even flinch.
He simply looked on, his expression unreadable.

He had already come to terms with death.
Even if he survived and returned, it would be a life no different from dying.
That was why, if possible, he hadn’t wanted to send Isaac.
But Edric had to survive.

On the battlefield, Edric was Kalang.
If he fell, so would the nation.

“Prepare the grenadiers!”

It was the most crucial task.
The one operation that could turn the tide of this war.

He spotted Isaac, face set with grim resolve, flanked by two soldiers.
All of them still so young—brilliant futures now sacrificed.
The bleakness of it twisted Edric’s expression, but Isaac wore a bright smile.

“Your Excellency.”

Edric glanced his way.
At Isaac’s subtle chin-tilt, the man spoke, half in jest, as if they weren’t standing on the edge of death.

“Be happy, sir.”

A short laugh escaped Edric.
Isaac laughed too, the way they once had during old campaigns, a fleeting moment of familiarity in the storm.

At the same time, a soldier’s report rang out.

“Colonel! Grenadiers ready, sir!”

With a wide grin, Isaac shouted.

“Grenades ready!”

Edric gave him a nod in response. Without hesitation, Isaac turned around and began sprinting toward Hetar’s front line. Two other members followed closely behind him.

“Cover them! Make sure they get in safely!”

A few more men moved in to provide cover, ensuring the operation could be carried out safely. Only after their figures had completely disappeared from sight did Edric raise his gun once more. The sacrifice of precious lives must not be in vain.

An explosion went off. Hetar’s front line began to collapse. The operation had been effective. Edric took command of the battlefield from the very front.

Today was their only chance.

They had already wasted too much time on this battlefield. With a single, unwavering resolve to seize victory, Edric fired countless rounds and led the battle from the front lines.

Before long, the high ground was in sight. The end of Fetchif Hetar’s border—came into view.

“The border—just a little farther and we’ll be in Hetar!”

The contagious surge of morale instantly spread, igniting the troops with fervor. Knowing that victory was just within reach became the strongest motivator of all.

Everyone gritted their teeth and charged out. Amid the hail of gunfire and shells pouring down like rain, the soldiers’ shouts layered one after another, never ceasing.

The explosion set off by Isaac’s sacrifice had hit its mark perfectly. It had severed the very center of Hetar’s front line, opening a path for their forces to advance.

Bang—!

Edric calmly pulled the trigger. It was truly done now. Dying like this wouldn’t be so bad. But if he were to survive and return, he thought he’d like to glance in on Yuis from time to time.

They wouldn’t share a life together, but he’d still be wondering how she was doing.

Edric knew that this feeling would never fade. It was as if he’d inherited his love for her from her.

Would he have been able to avoid hurting her if he had taken after his father instead?

At that moment, Yuis Descartes was the only person on his mind.

“Retreat! Fall back!”

The enemy was shouting orders to retreat from their own camp. But the goddess of victory had already come to Kalang.

They would win. They had already won. He had succeeded in protecting the land where Yuis would walk, where she would live. That single truth was carved deeply into his heart.

As he pictured Yuis—her face so familiar he could draw it even with his eyes closed—the soldiers around him burst into cheers. It wasn’t the sound of desperate relief. It was something deeper. Something that came from the soul.

At last, Kalang had defended Fetchif. After more than two months of grueling battle, they had seized victory and sounded the horn of triumph.

It was over.

Just as Edric’s face softened in relief, a pale-faced soldier cried out in panic.

“Your Excellency! It’s dangerous!”