Chapter 19

Dressed in a neat shirt and sweater, Massera sat on the sofa and unfolded the newspaper.

“Can you see the text?”

Cynthia asked as she watched him read the newspaper by the dim light of the fireplace.

“I can.”

“You too, General? I can also see better in the dark. Isn’t that interesting?”

“...That’s how it is for most people.”

‘Wasn’t it said that only westerners with light-colored eyes have strong night vision though?’

Recalling a passage from a certain martial arts novel, Cynthia nodded and sat across from him.

“It’s hard to see in bright places because of the glare. My eyesight isn’t that good, but it’s not bad enough where I need glasses.”

“I can read the text of a book from the building across the street.”

At his words, Cynthia’s mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Are you a telescope or something?”

“...I used to be a sniper. My eyesight is about 6.0.”

TL/N: The levels of eyesight are measured differently in Korea. For reference, a vision of 1.0 is equivalent to 20/20 vision.

“Wow, are you a descendant of Genghis Khan? You’ve got a built-in 6x scope. If you can see that well in the dark, you wouldn’t even need thermal vision.”

“Who’s Genghis Khan?”

‘And how does she even know stuff like that?’

Massera quickly turned his head after seeing Cynthia in her linen nightgown.

The fabric was slightly see-through, and with his sharp eyesight, it was excruciating.

“Why are you sitting in front of me dressed like that?”

“It’s not much different from regular clothes… and we are in a bedroom.”

They weren’t exactly strangers and they would soon be married.

“Is this nightgown not that nice…?”

Seeing her slightly disheartened expression, Massera remembered the words he’d blurted out in irritation after hugging her before dinner.

“You really… can be so annoying.”

It had been bothering him since earlier.

‘Was I too harsh?’

“I didn’t mean what I said earlier.”

“You mean when you said the eel jelly had a flavor you didn’t even know could exist? I’m sure everyone thinks the same, so don’t worry about it. It was my bad for offering it to you. I didn’t think you’d actually eat it.”

Cynthia answered more brightly than the midday sun.

She had been so caught up in the hug earlier that she hadn’t heard him mutter, “You really…”

“My sister and the duke are leaving for their honeymoon tomorrow. The rest of my family will be heading back too.”

Unaware of that, Massera felt a strange pang of guilt as he watched Cynthia speak so nonchalantly.

He thought she was pretending not to care.

There had been someone like that among his old squad members.

Always cheerful, smiling, and didn’t seem to have a care in the world, but inside, they had been full of sorrow.

Massera’s eyes, like the dusk of dawn, gradually deepened.

“Was there somewhere you’ve always wanted to go? In Medeia, I mean.”

“For our honeymoon? Can I plan it? I’ll make a detailed itinerary. I think it’d be really fun to go with you, general!”

Seeing Cynthia’s eyes sparkle with excitement only made his heart feel heavier.

She had said she wanted to see the ocean on her honeymoon, and from what she told the ladies earlier, it seemed going to the maritime kingdom of Medeia had been her long-held wish.

She must’ve been excited at the thought of making that dream come true through their honeymoon.

“General, thank you for getting me such a beautiful dress. Now, where do you think we should go for our honeymoon? I’ve always wanted to go—”

“We’re not going.”

At least, until he rejected her.

‘Why…’

He ran a hand through his platinum-blond hair and narrowed his eyes.

‘...does it feel like I’m the bad guy here?’

Imagining the moment they’d have to part ways coldly someday, a faint sense of guilt began to creep in.

“General, I didn’t think you’d actually break it off…”

Could he really throw cold words at such a pitiful, heartbroken face?

He felt a rising sense of danger that he couldn’t let himself be swayed by that pure-white woman.

‘Yeah. A honeymoon is reasonable enough.’

It was her wish, and that much he could grant. It would be troublesome if the marriage fell through, after all.

As for after that, he decided it wouldn’t be his concern whether she cried her eyes out or withered away. Massera weighed how much goodwill he’d offer her until then.

“I had a fun time talking with you. I’ll be going to bed now. Sleep well and see you tomorrow.”

With a yawn, she got up and waved her hand.

Massera then sat down on the floor and leaned against the sofa.

Having served in the military for a long time and stood guard, this became the most comfortable posture for him when in an unfamiliar place.

Meanwhile, Cynthia, laying on the edge of the bed, tilted her head as she looked at the man sitting on the floor using the sofa as a backrest.

‘Is that a Korean sitting posture?’

Unable to resist her curiosity, she asked—

“Why are you sleeping like that?”

“It’s more comfortable for me.”

“Is it because the room is big? It’s still chilly even though a lot of firewood was put in. Should I bring you a blanket?”

“I don’t get cold easily.”

Cynthia didn’t answer for a long time. The silence became longer as she must have gone to sleep due to fatigue.

Just as Massera closed his eyes, he heard her voice again.

“You went out and secretly made a snowman earlier, didn’t you? Your gloves were damp.”

“...”

Pretending to be asleep, he didn’t respond. It was such a ridiculous question, he couldn’t even think of a reply.

He thought she’d stop by now, but…

“You’re doing fun stuff all by yourself. I can make snow ducks, you know.”

‘Please, just go to sleep already.’

Fed up with her endless chatter, Massera vowed that after the wedding, they would definitely have separate rooms.

***

“Colonel, we can’t reach headquarters!”

“We’re short on food, fuel, and winter gear! Without supplies, our unit will be wiped out!”

Massera was dreaming of the past.

It was a dream from before he received his title—when he was still Colonel Massera Giez.

A snowstorm had cut off supplies and wiped out most of the unit.

The Duke, who was a lieutenant colonel back then, and Massera survived. So did the soldiers from noble families.

“Was it you… who ordered the rest of the soldiers on a suicide march to save the nobles, Colonel? To reduce the number of soldiers because supplies are running low?”

It was Duke Henry Lucanossa who issued the order without the approval of his superior, Massera.

His logic was that if everyone would die anyway, at least some should survive.

And of course, his standard was that it should be the nobility.

“How could you be so cruel? Why didn’t you just send me to my death too?! My comrades were sacrificed for my survival all because I’m a noble…”

Even as Massera was treated like a ruthless demon, the Duke continued to feign ignorance.

“The Variessa dynasty has fallen, so why are we still on the battlefield? What are we even fighting for? Is it to clean up their mess?”

Amidst the cries of the survivors, the sobs of a regular soldier whose frostbitten hands and feet were rotting could be heard.

“Colonel, it’s so cold…”

Massera, glimpsing into the past in the form of a nightmare, slowly opened his eyes. The purple hue in his blue irises had deepened.

The sobbing from his memory had turned into Cynthia’s sleep talk.

“Mmm… so cold.”

A chill hung over the room. The fireplace was slowly cooling, its firewood almost completely burned through.

Massera threw in extra firewood and lit a match. It would take a while for the air to warm.

The way she trembled under the covers somehow bothered him. He wanted to stay indifferent, but she was troublesome in many ways.

Approaching the bed, Massera smoothed out the cold blankets. A few strands of her white hair peeked out from the covers.

After a while, perhaps because it had gotten warmer, Cynthia stirred in her sleep and lifted her upper body out from under the blanket.

Massera watched her sleep with a serene expression on her face.

Looking back, all misfortune stemmed from the wars waged by the incompetent Variessa royal family.

The revolutionaries, seeking the complete eradication of the Variessa dynasty, killed all the royals.

“Please, could you hide my daughter and I? I’ll give you everything I have.”

He was about six years old at the time.

A woman had come, begging, with a child of about three or four in her arms.

The woman, who said she needed to head north, exuded grace despite her shabby clothes, and the child wrapped in a blanket, face peeking out, smelled clean.

“Oh dear. I don’t know your situation, but as a mother myself, I can’t turn you away. Come in and warm up.”

Unaware of the truth, Massera’s mother helped her out of compassion and in return, the woman left a red diamond necklace.

“We’re also refugees and have received a lot of help here. As fellow people in need, we should naturally help each other out, so there’s no need to give us anything. You said the child’s father is up north, right? The journey will be tough, so I’ll pack you some bread and butter.”

But the woman insisted on repaying the kindness and left the necklace, bringing disaster.

His mother was labeled a “shameless woman who was blinded by jewels and helped the royal family escape” and was killed by the revolutionary forces.

Left as a war orphan, he fought fiercely against his fate and survived.

And there was a girl who survived the same storm of fate.

Lost in memory, Massera’s gaze settled on Cynthia’s neck.

The red necklace that had led to his mother’s death was now hanging around Cynthia’s neck.