Chapter 27
‘Being royalty doesn’t mean living elegantly all the time.’
Hermia brushed the hair stuck to her cheek and looked at Walter, who was quickly writing down her personal information on a newly pulled-out sheet of paper.
Is it common for someone of his rank, like a colonel, to memorize others’ personal details?
As she followed the long, straight fingers of the man with her eyes, she suddenly asked,
“By the way, what happened to Mel? Have you found her?”
A troubled look flickered in his green eyes framed by long eyelashes. He answered without taking his eyes off the documents.
“…We haven’t found her yet. We searched inside all night but found no trace, so it seems she has gone outside the castle.”
“How is the security so lax…?”
She muttered under her breath, but since they were alone in the quiet space, it came out quite clearly. His hand holding the pen paused momentarily before continuing.
“I also checked the hospital and the doctor’s house you mentioned, but she hasn’t been there. It seems she hasn’t taken a carriage either.”
“What about Greenwood Orphanage?”
“They reported the same. For now, we’ll check if there are any witnesses…”
Walter suddenly took a sharp breath in, interrupting his sentence.
What’s going on? Why is he acting like this all of a sudden?
‘Did they apply that strong-smelling ointment on my arm this morning? Is that why?’
Hermia quickly stood up and staggered toward the terrace.
“Why close the door? It smells a bit medicinal, but it’s not that bad… You must have a very sensitive sense of smell.”
Of course, that last remark was her inner thought, but it slipped out naturally. She had given up on holding her tongue.
It wasn’t like she had slathered it all over her body like yesterday; why was he reacting this way as soon as he closed the door?
“Ha… Hah…”
As he kept exhaling hot breaths, he suddenly jumped up from his seat. The large chair creaked loudly, causing Hermia to flinch and turn around.
“What’s wrong? Can’t you take it anymore? Are you going to throw up?”
Is there a bucket around? As she panicked and looked around, she spotted a small desk bell at the edge of the table and slammed it down.
“Duke, do you have some kind of illness?”
“I need to call Gerald…”
Walter mumbled while staggering. The firmly closed study door now seemed more distant than ever.
This feeling wasn’t new.
Yesterday, while they were talking, he suddenly became short of breath; seeing Gerald beyond the tent had felt like being splashed with cold water.
The inexplicable symptoms had returned again. But this time, he had missed his chance to escape. His composure began to crumble uncontrollably.
As the bell ringing echoed loudly, Walter approached with a pained expression and looked down at her.
When did he get so close? Standing face to face made her instinctively shrink back.
“I, I, I didn’t ask you to apply ointment.”
“…”
The heat radiating from Walter’s gaze made Hermia’s knees weaken for a moment.
How could someone glare at her like that just because she smelled bad? How did he manage to endure it yesterday?
With an expression crumpling in distress, she asked,
“Should I wash it off with water? Or maybe try blocking your nose? Don’t you know how to breathe through your mouth?”
“Hermia…”
The back of Hermia’s hand resting on the bell suddenly felt warm. Walter had placed his hand over hers.
He didn’t stop there; he took another step closer. Her eyes widened in surprise at this sudden contact more than anything else.
Walter’s complexion looked unusual. She wondered if he was feeling nauseous again; however, instead of being pale, his face was flushed red.
Hadn’t he seemed fine until dinner or just moments ago? Seeing him breathe heavily with his ears turning bright red made it clear something serious was going on.
“Did you get a heatstroke? Do you have a fever?”
“Hermia, I…”
Knock knock.
“Come in!”
Hermia startled and shouted as she reached out to check Walter’s forehead. Not only did she shout, but she also pushed against his chest with all her strength.
His large frame that seemed sturdy enough to withstand a carriage tipped over and fell backward.
Emily entered through the door and stood frozen for a moment as she scanned both of them in disbelief.
The incessant ringing of the bell mixed with Hermia’s urgent voice calling for someone combined with the sight of their fallen master and his flustered fiancée…
Seeing her master’s flushed face glowing like an animal’s made Emily’s eyes fill with barely contained contempt.
“What… what is this before you’re even married?!”
It seemed clear that there must have been some huge misunderstanding here.
—
“Puhaha.”
Gerald laughed while holding his stomach.
Colonel Rockford lying on the sofa with an ice pack on his forehead!
“Hahaha! Duke Leonhard should have seen this!”
“Stop laughing.”
“Oh dear! I’m sorry! Hahaha.”
With an expression that showed he wasn’t truly sorry at all, he was now wiping away tears from laughing so hard.
“Do you remember how Emily looked at you when she took her away?”
“…”
“I never thought you’d act like that! You silly boy! That was exactly how you looked!”
Walter squeezed his eyes shut and threw the swaying pouch onto the table. The heat that had been on his face vanished like a lie when Emily and Gerald burst in.
As he wiped the remaining moisture with a towel, he self-deprecatingly explained,
“I just lost my mind for a moment. It’s hot, you know? The weather is the problem.”
“Come on, friend. Tell me the truth. What were you trying to do to her that made you fall on the floor?”
Gerald took the pouch and opened it, digging his hand inside. As he fiddled with the half-melted ice, he lazily asked,
“What kind of shameless act were you planning that made your face burn like that?”
“What act? I was just…”
Walter, who had been serious, couldn’t continue and shut his mouth. Even blaming it on the weather didn’t make sense, so he couldn’t find the right words.
If Emily hadn’t come in just in time, it would have been a disaster. How could he even think of doing something like that to her?
Could this be what Gerald referred to as the author’s curse?
“Ha.”
Even while thinking this, he felt pathetic and scoffed at himself.
A curse or whatever. He almost committed a grave offense against his fiancée before they were even married.
If Gerald or Emily hadn’t come in yesterday or just moments ago…
Just imagining it made his blood run cold. It should have been a mistake, not some unexplainable phenomenon.
Last night, Gerald had claimed that Hermia was also a victim of the curse.
He said her curse was “being unable to lie.” It wasn’t even worth responding to, so he had dismissed him.
When he didn’t believe him, Gerald had loudly declared he would prove his curse at dawn, but by morning, he changed his tune.
‘It seems it doesn’t happen every day. Last night was a failure.’
Though Gerald usually spoke lightly, he became even stranger after introducing that novel.
Even him playing with the remaining ice suddenly seemed absurd. Walter muttered under his breath with a damp towel over his face.
“‘Curse’—how ridiculous…”
Among soldiers preparing for deployment, there are often those who cling to unrealistic beliefs.
Some carry lucky charms or insist on tying their shoelaces three times.
All of it stems from fear; they never show it outwardly, but Walter always felt sorry for them.
If all those superstitions were true, no one would die on the battlefield.
If you were going to rely on things that have no substance, it would be better to focus on reloading your gun faster than the enemy or learning how to wield your sword with precision to increase your chances of survival.
It was better to study how to stop bleeding from injuries or to help a comrade die painlessly.
As a commander responsible for hundreds or thousands of lives, this was an essential mindset he should have. It was Walter Rockford’s identity and firm belief forged through five years of fierce battles.
Gerald raised an eyebrow and smiled.
“Oh ho! To hear you mention curses now—does this mean you believe me?”
“Not a chance. I’ve just gotten soft.”
To think that he would blame such absurd superstitions instead of maintaining his steady rationality and cold judgment meant that he had clearly let his mental state slip during his break.
Irritated, Walter brushed back his hair and stood up.
“I’ll run twenty laps around the training field, then do three hours of sword training, two hours of hand-to-hand combat, and finish up with some shooting practice. That should help me snap back.”
There’s no better remedy for shaking off foolish thoughts than physical activity. It was a truth learned during his teenage years.
As Walter strode out of the study with long strides, Gerald watched him with a concerned expression before shouting after him,
“You need to be flexible too; if you keep this up, you’ll break one day! You’ll break completely!”
Leaving behind what might have been advice or just wishful thinking, Walter marched angrily toward the training grounds.
—
Henry spotted his superior changing into training clothes while supervising the soldiers’ morning drills and rushed over with a grimace.
“Are you joining us again?”
“Do you have any complaints?”
“What complaints could I possibly have? I’m worried about our boys! Following the colonel will probably leave about ten fainting and thirty exhausted!”
Henry added grumpily, “Oh. Since it’s hot today, maybe double that.”
Walter ignored him as usual and extended his arm. Henry naturally brought over sandbags and tied them on while continuing to speak.
“About that doctor named Isaac that Miss Hermia mentioned…”
“I received a brief report. He’s someone who owed the Vansen family.”
“Yes. Yesterday one of our team members asked about Melissa’s whereabouts and searched his house but found nothing.”
Walter raised another arm as if waiting for more information.
“But early this morning, he came out of his house with luggage.”
“The doctor?”
“Yes. When we followed him, he went to apply for leave at the hospital and then headed straight for the central station.”
