Chapter 1

[To my dearly missed husband.

It’s me, Mac.

Are you doing well?

The weather was so clear today. I suppose it’s because summer is on its way.

I sincerely hope the war will end before this summer is over.

(…omitted…)

To be honest, I feel a little doubtful as I write this. I wonder if my letters are really reaching you. After all, you’ve never replied. Erniel hasn’t, either…

Sometimes, I’m afraid that maybe you both have already gone somewhere no letter can reach.

So, please, I hope you’re still safe and well.

With love, from your wife.]

Even after she placed the period at the end of her letter, Edith couldn’t bring herself to put down the pen.

[PS: the truth is…]

“Miss!”

It was Madame Marie’s voice from downstairs that broke Edith out of her thoughts, still unsure whether she should write more. It sounded like dinner was ready.

“Yes! I’ll be down right away!”

Edith answered in a loud, clear voice, but in the end, she couldn’t bring herself to write that last line. She folded the letter neatly and slipped it into an envelope. The postman would be around soon, and she needed to get the letter out with him.

‘It’ll be alright.

He promised he’d come back. He’s not the type to die easily, or to break a promise.’

As Edith went down the stairs, she repeated that phrase over and over, as if in prayer.

So, it’s alright.

***

Dinner was oppressively quiet.

Normally, someone would have turned on the radio, but with nothing but news of defeat these days, no one bothered anymore.

“Did you get any reply to your letter?”

It was Edith’s mother, Elise, who broke the heavy silence. She hadn’t even eaten half of what was on her plate, but her fork was already laid neatly on the table.

“No, Mother.”

“…….”

“But I’m sure it’ll come soon.”

Edith hurried to add that, trying to maintain a calm appearance, though a faint tremble in her voice betrayed her anxiety.

‘It’s alright.’

Once again, she silently repeated those words. She picked up her fork, which had briefly stopped, and forced herself to eat, even though her mouth was bitter and her stomach uneasy.

Elise’s expression was still dark. Even after a lifetime as a soldier’s wife, sending a loved one off to war was something she could never get used to. Her own husband, Edith’s father, had also been a soldier—lost to the war long ago.

“Things must be dire… If even Schwern has fallen.”

Edith was well aware that the tide of war, now in its second year, was turning decisively against her homeland. She knew, too, that at this rate, they might not last even a few more months.

“Are they even still alive, either of them…”

Elise’s sigh, thick with grief, drifted across the dinner table, and silence fell once more.

Edith chewed the piece of bread in her mouth slowly and wordlessly.

Mac—her husband Maximilian—and her older brother Erniel were both officers in the Berg National Army, stationed to defend the capital. Just three months ago, they’d been suddenly deployed to the front lines when the northern line broke and the enemy began to overrun Schwern. It happened only six months after her marriage.

‘I’ll write to you.’

A sorrow as if something inside her was being eaten away threatened to overwhelm her, but she let Maximilian go with just those words. Just as her mother Elise had once done with her own husband.

After dinner, Edith helped Madame Marie clear the table.

“I’ll do the dishes.”

Her face was clouded as she mixed soap into the water for the dishes, and her hands moved distractedly, sending suds flying everywhere—so unlike her usual self.

Charr-ring.

That was when the doorbell rang.

Edith’s eyes immediately brightened, half-lowered just a moment ago. She knew exactly who would come to the house at this hour.

The postman.

She quickly wiped her wet hands on her apron, clenched the letter in her pocket, and spoke up.

“I’ll get it.”

She hurried out of the dining room to greet the postman.

Her face was already glowing with hope—maybe, just maybe, today there would be a reply from Maximilian.

“Hello, sir!”

Even before the door was halfway open, Edith greeted him in an excited voice. The sunlight spilling through the door grew wider, and her pale blonde hair shone in its rays.

“You’re a bit late today—”

The moment the door fully opened and Edith saw the person standing outside, her voice cut off.

It wasn’t the postman. Standing there in the bright afternoon sunlight was a man in the teal uniform of the national army.

The man spoke in a stiff, formal tone.

“Are you Mrs. Edith Lindelll?”

“…Yes.”

“Is your husband Captain Maximilian Lindelll?”

Edith couldn’t answer any further. The moment she saw him, a terrible premonition began crawling up her spine, growing more certain with every second until it gnawed away at her reason.

‘No… It couldn’t be…’

In the long silence, the man read the answer in her trembling golden eyes. He raised his hand in a perfectly measured salute. And then—

“The Minister of War extends his deepest condolences. Your husband, Captain Maximilian Lindelll, was killed in action at Schwern.”

“……”

“Regrettably, his remains could not be recovered. The nation will never forget Captain Lindelll’s sacrifice—”

That was as much as Edith heard. Her vision blurred into nothingness, and then, all at once, she fell.

With a dull thud, Edith collapsed on the hard floor and slowly closed her eyes. The words she’d never been able to bring herself to write echoed through her mind.

[P.S. The truth is…]

“…I’m pregnant.”

The words, so fragile they might vanish at any moment, spilled quietly from Edith’s cracked lips.

[So please, come home safe.]

And in her fading consciousness, she heard Elise’s scream tearing through the house—a scream that made the new reality all too clear. Edith fainted, unable to bear it.

Maximilian was dead.

***

Outskirts of Hasmal.

Lying motionless in his bed, Zechart slowly opened his eyes. Instantly, the sharp smell of medicine filled his nose. After weeks of this unpleasant awakening, he’d almost grown used to it. He was lucky to have survived at all—his wounds had been grave. Even now, fresh blood stained the bandages showing through his half-open shirt.

Slowly, Zechart pushed himself up and limped over to the window.

Through the iron bars, he could see a high, gray wall topped with dense coils of barbed wire. From his second-story hospital room, not even the other side was visible.

Maybe that’s why, after all these weeks, none of this felt real.

“Zechart?”

It was then that a familiar voice called out behind him. He turned, and there stood a slender, red-haired woman in the doorway.

“…Rachel.”

It had been five days since her last visit. She was the only one who ever came to see him, so it had also been five days since he’d seen another human at all.

He’d never even seen the doctors or nurses—his treatments were always performed while he was asleep. He suspected the medication he was given before bed was the reason he never woke up during them.

“Do you remember anything yet?”

Her question was always the same, and his answer never changed.

“No.”

“They said your wounds are healing well. You’ll be discharged soon.”

Rachel’s voice was low and captivating as she leaned toward him. Zechart, as if used to it, bent down. Her lips pressed a short kiss to his cheek and pulled away.

“When your body’s fully healed, we can begin again,”

she whispered, gently stroking the cheek she’d kissed.

“Our cause.”

His dark eyes blinked once in firm acknowledgment. Those eyes, usually so dry and flat, suddenly shone the moment their cause was mentioned. The contrast was so stark it felt almost as if he’d been programmed to react to that word alone.

Rachel quietly stroked his glossy black hair, then picked up a syringe from the metal tray left on the bed.

Zechart obediently rolled up his sleeve, offering her his arm, already marred with marks from repeated injections.

Rachel deftly slid the needle into a protruding vein, and for a moment, she held Zechart’s gaze.

“Get some more rest, Zechart.”

A cold ache followed the drug as it crept up his vein. It was a strange sensation, but Zechart didn’t resist. Rachel gently helped his swaying body back onto the bed.

“I’ll be going now.”

With Rachel’s farewell, Zechart closed his eyes. The heavy clang of the iron door echoed through the infirmary.