My Beloved, Whom I Desire to Kill - 316

The effort to soothe Giselle continued. He would distract her by pulling out the chocolates or candies he now always kept a generous supply of in his pockets, or by letting her hold the cat one of the soldiers kept. She seemed to forget her anxiety for a while, but it never lasted long.

In truth, the only effective cure for Giselle’s distress was time. When the night deepened, even a child with more energy than adults had no choice but to succumb.

Exhausted, she would finally lie down with her head on Edwin’s leg and beg him to tell her a story. It was a charming, desperate effort to stay awake.

By then, he had run out of all the old tales of knights rescuing princesses trapped in dragon towers, so he would tell her about the reality of the Queens and Princesses who ruled.

He described how lavish the palaces he had visited were. What the capital city was like. What was different about foreign countries. And how the sea differed from the lake. What the ice cream tasted like, which he used to buy on summer beaches as a boy.

As Edwin spoke of the world he knew, Giselle listened with shining eyes. Staring into those eyes, which sparkled like clear water in the sunlight, a fierce resolve would ignite within him.

I will see those two eyes sparkle one day as you take a bite of ice cream under the brilliant sun of an emerald-green beach.

He vowed to let her see with her own eyes and feel with her own hands the vast world she had only heard about, trapped as she was in this deep, mold-scented pit where no light reached and no wind could blow.

Even when he felt exhausted by the grueling, protracted war—a fight with no advance or retreat—and had lost all will, facing the child’s desperate yearning for a greater world and a tomorrow to live for would bring forth a fighting will he thought he no longer possessed.

War, they said, was the sacrifice of the few for the many. For Edwin, who wished to throw no life away, it was agonizing to be the man who orchestrated those few sacrifices.

In such moments, a soldier usually tries to convince himself to fight by recalling the loved ones he left behind in his hometown. It is easier to grasp the purpose of protecting a person with a face than an anonymous public. It is only natural for humans to accept a clear personal interest over a vague public good.

However, this was an avenue Edwin couldn’t even attempt.

The thought of saving his only remaining family—his brother, a worm who was rotting away society through every vile addiction from alcohol and drugs to gambling and prostitution—at the cost of putting an honest private with a simple dream and a loving fiancée in harm’s way, was a sin that brought a sickening surge of nausea.

His close relatives, who would have long since fled to safety, were the kind of people who believed they had fulfilled their duty to the nation by reading the morning paper over breakfast, clicking their tongues in disapproval, and dashing a signature onto a donation check.

And he had never even taken a lover.

For these reasons, he had no one he wished to protect. Not until he met the girl who was outwardly fragile but inwardly stronger than anyone.

As if by destiny, Giselle naturally became the reason Edwin fought. The hopeful sparkle in her eyes was the lantern that illuminated the dark path beneath Edwin’s feet in this age of despair.

The reason he felt so embarrassed whenever people said he had saved Giselle was that, in truth, Edwin had also been saved by Giselle.

Looking back, it was only thanks to the fearful little girl who looked only at him that he had not gone insane during the first war. The fact that he returned a madman from the second war, which she was absent from, was proof enough.

Even when the nation settled into an era of peace, but his own life did not, Giselle was Edwin’s sole salvation.

When his brother, irresponsible until the very end, cowardly ran away from his duties, it was Edwin’s burden to clean up the wreckage. He was forced to stand in a place that had never been his, shouldering all the responsibilities.

The spoiled frustration of having to give up a dream that was perfect to him—though utterly trivial compared to becoming the Duke’s master in the eyes of others—was something he could confide in no one.

But I still have Giselle.

My North Star that shines unchanging in the same spot even as everything else shifts. The being who makes me grateful that even if everything else is wrong, having her by my side makes it all right.

The girl was the oxygen line for the man plunged into the abyss, and the tiny squirrel who made a cozy nest in the dying old tree. The old tree endured the storm with its rotten roots solely to protect the squirrel’s dream.

To Edwin Eccleston, Giselle Bishop was the very reason for the struggle that was life. That is why, when he lost her due to his own mistake, his life stopped and he fell into a hibernation akin to death.

Suddenly, a feeling of gratitude for being alive today washes over him. Perhaps it’s not just because death came so close. All those years ago, Edwin would look endlessly at the soundly sleeping Giselle, right here in this very spot, and be thankful that they had survived another day together.

He suddenly realized that her sleeping face looked the same then as it did now, and he smiled. The smile didn’t last.

I miss her.

He had promised to see her sleeping face tonight, but he had broken that promise. Because of that, Giselle wouldn’t be able to sleep.

If only I could let her know I’m safe…

The communication lines were still down. While radio contact was possible, it would be foolish to risk his life and the life of a radio operator by climbing the tower or opening the door just to send regards to a lover he would meet tomorrow morning.

Yet, there was another reason why he couldn’t shake off the dangerous and irrational urge.

She wouldn’t have come all this way, would she?

Because Giselle Bishop was exactly the kind of woman who would think she had the right to break her promise if Edwin broke his, and would come to this perilous battle zone.

He didn’t regret venturing into the war zone and nearly dying, as he had accomplished his critical mission on time. But if his lover was trembling alone in fear while bombs were raining down, without him there to hold her, the story was completely different.

I’ll pay the price for making her stay up all night with worry tomorrow, so please, let her not have stepped a single foot outside the safety of the base…

—Colonel, please rest easy.

The soldiers who had just finished building his makeshift bed stepped back and offered him the space.

—I’m fine.

Edwin refused, gesturing with his eyes toward the Private First Class who lay opposite him, looking pale and weak. The soldiers gently lifted the wounded man, laid him on the bed, and wrapped him in a blanket.

He had been hit by a ricochet from an enemy rifle while delivering ammunition to the snipers in the tower. He was the owner of the blood staining Edwin’s hands and uniform.

At least, he had kept his promise to survive.

Edwin, having no injuries, could afford to spend the night inside the dam, but the critically wounded, who needed urgent treatment, would not agree. The thought of having to carry out the bodies of those who wouldn’t make it through the night was agonizing for him.

Is there no way out?

He listened intently to the outside, seeking a path to safely evacuate the wounded. A fighter jet swept over the dam—the sound of its machine gun fire momentarily erupted, followed by the blast of anti-aircraft guns layered over the after-effects. Then, the sounds of combat suddenly ceased. For a long while.

Could it be that the enemy aircraft had finally withdrawn?

Hope, which had quietly begun to rise, was instantly shattered.

CRUNCH!

The muffled roar didn’t come from above, but from behind him. As the wall he leaned against vibrated and the overhead lights shook, Edwin instantly knew.

It wasn’t a simple air strike. It was a demolition charge.

Everyone must escape this dam immediately.

Realizing that not just the critically wounded but everyone would perish if they stayed, Edwin immediately summoned the operational commanders, informed them of the gravity of the situation, and issued an order.

—The enemy is most likely targeting the dam’s center. Immediately split and gather the personnel at the extreme ends of the dam.

It took less than three minutes to clear the center of the tunnel. But with the next explosion potentially arriving at any second, even one second was too long.

During those three minutes, Edwin explained the escape strategy to the commanders on both sides. In the meantime, soldiers who had already received their orders began securing each of the escape routes.

There were two escape routes on each side.

The first was the entrance cut into the dam’s slope. It offered a quick exit as it connected directly to the tunnel, but the problem was that to reach the forest, they had to cross the bridge that led to the office building outside. That bridge had been blown up when the enemy paratroopers retreated inside. Therefore, they would have to traverse the dam’s steep slope sideways, like a crab, to reach the forest. The able-bodied could manage, but it was impossible for the critically wounded.

The second was the tower rising at the quarter-point on either side of the dam. A door about halfway up the tower led to the road on the dam’s crest. The disadvantage was that this open path made them more vulnerable to enemies ambushed in the forest or aircraft overhead than the first route. The advantage was that they would only need to run on a flat road after exiting the dam, making the journey easier, but the climb up the stairs to reach the exit would be arduous and time-consuming—especially since they would be evacuating with wounded soldiers unable to move on their own.

He instantly divided the personnel according to their respective escape routes. Edwin chose the tower.

It was right that someone with spare physical strength—which he had, having done no physical labor today—should take charge of the wounded.