Chapter 08
Chloe and the heavily armed base personnel were walking alongside the Fitzmark soldiers. The Fitzmark troops were pulling carts, and inside them were corpses.
By principle, those from Fitzmark were not allowed to leave the base. However, the base administrators could not completely ignore the very human request to personally bury their fallen comrades.
At this point, anyone would have sensed that something about the situation was off. If there were still Fitzmark soldiers who hadn’t realized it, then their intelligence was seriously questionable.
Edeline soldiers continued to come and go from the base countless times today. Once their treatment was complete, they returned to their units, and those who had suffered permanent disabilities were sent back to their homeland.
But it was not the same for the Fitzmark soldiers. They were treated so they wouldn’t die, but releasing them would only result in them raising their bayonets against Edeline soldiers again. The only ways for a Fitzmark soldier to leave this base were for the war to end—or to become a corpse.
Chloe was growing more certain. The survivors would eventually be used as valuable bargaining chips in a prisoner exchange.
The group arrived at a wide clearing used for burials. The soldiers pulled the bodies down from the carts, while the base personnel stood guard with rifles slung over their shoulders.
At that moment, someone approached the absent-mindedly standing Chloe and spoke to her.
“Why’d you bother coming all the way out here? What did you expect to see?”
Chloe glanced up at Matthew. He was the person she was most at ease with in this base. He had once been a professional soldier, and after retiring, he had lived as a mercenary.
His life showed in his physique—he was muscular all over, with a somewhat rough and intimidating appearance. His thick beard added to that impression.
But interestingly, unlike his looks, he was shy around women. Having seen plenty of soldiers who looked like boys but spouted nothing but vulgar jokes, Chloe found that contrast amusing.
“It’s not like I’m seeing this for the first time. If I couldn’t even handle this, I might as well go home.”
When Chloe replied as if it were no big deal, Matthew absentmindedly patted the top of her head. He didn’t know her circumstances, but seeing her endure hardships all the way out at the front lines made him feel sorry for her.
That was when Chloe noticed a rather unpleasant sight. While the soldiers were digging with shovels, crows began to gather, trying to peck at the corpses. Chloe frowned, and Matthew clicked his tongue.
“That’s why I told you not to come.”
But this was no longer unfamiliar to Chloe. She had only realized after coming to the battlefield just how many crows existed in the world. Whenever she went to the front lines to collect belongings, hundreds of crows would be tearing at corpses. Seeing the black birds completely cover the ground was enough to give someone a fear of birds they’d never had before.
And these crows weren’t afraid of people. It was almost as if they knew that wherever humans gathered, food would inevitably follow.
Chloe often thought to herself—if she were to lie still on the ground and close her eyes, those crows would surely peck at her too.
Watching the scene with a sour expression, Chloe finally moved. She took a shovel from a Fitzmark soldier who was busy digging.
She swung the shovel in a wide arc above the crows’ heads. But when they showed no intention of leaving, she started nudging them away.
“Go on. Shoo.”
Both the base personnel and the Fitzmark soldiers watched with pale faces as the small, almost fragile-looking girl swung a shovel. It was, in a way, both absurd and bizarre.
As Chloe continued to drive away the crows, she muttered as if talking to herself.
“I know you’re just trying to survive too… but even for humans, there’s a minimum respect owed in the face of death. This is something I can’t compromise on.”
Alvin was also watching her. Seeing such a scene, devoid of any softness or sentiment, he turned to his adjutant.
“Ducrein… is that woman really…?”
“Someone else could’ve written it for her,” Ducrein suggested belatedly, raising the possibility of ghostwriting.
Alvin tilted his head.
“Wouldn’t that be a crime?”
Still looking doubtful, Alvin walked toward Chloe. By then, she had chased off all the crows and was now digging alongside the Fitzmark soldiers.
Alvin took the shovel from her.
“Why again?”
Chloe looked up at him, puzzled. His pant hems, which she had recently fixed for him, were now neatly arranged. She grabbed the handle of the shovel.
“You don’t have to help.”
“Think of it as a prisoner doing labor, then.”
“….”
“Give it. You said you don’t like dealing with corpses.”
Having no more arguments, Chloe let go of the handle. As he shoveled a large scoop of dirt, she crouched beside him, resting her chin on her hand.
Alvin smiled faintly at the sight, while Matthew and Ducrein exchanged suspicious glances. The two seemed oddly close, the result of several unspoken exchanges between them.
Sensing their gaze, Chloe looked around before fixing her eyes on Ducrein. When he turned pale and avoided her gaze, she asked Alvin,
“You badmouthed me to that guy, didn’t you?”
“Me?”
“You two were whispering while looking at me the other day.”
“…You saw that?”
“Yeah, by chance. What did you say that he can’t even look me in the eye?”
Chloe had once asked Alvin to pay some attention to that man. That didn’t mean she wanted him to gossip about her. Still, she didn’t seem too bothered.
After all, sometimes people needed a common enemy to grow closer. It was a petty and underhanded method, but effective enough to become a classic tactic.
And unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately—Chloe didn’t care much. Her profession subjected her to more criticism in a day than most people would receive in a lifetime. Critics could tear her apart in such elegant and refined ways that a few extra words made little difference. After all, one more stain didn’t matter on something already ragged.
Alvin realized she was misunderstanding something. He stuck the shovel into the ground and looked at her.
“Do I really seem like that kind of lowlife to you?”
“Well, not exactly.”
At her indifferent reply, Alvin decided to be partially honest.
“Ducrein says he knows you.”
“Me? How?”
“He said you came to Fitzmark for a performance.”
“….”
For the first time, Chloe’s usually impassive face shifted into one of clear discomfort. Though she quickly returned to her neutral expression, Alvin had already noticed.
“…You’ve got unusual taste.”
The play she had performed in Fitzmark had been one of her works aimed at the youngest audience—children. She remembered how challenging it had been to choose words suited to their level and deliver lines in a rhythm they could follow.
Had something happened back then that made her rely on something as pure as childhood innocence? She glanced at Ducrein again, and Alvin shook his head.
“He’s got a daughter. He’s a father.”
“His daughter has very refined taste.”
Though she spoke casually, Alvin sensed that she was uncomfortable with the topic. Sure enough, as she idly kicked at the dirt, Chloe said,
“Could you not spread that around?”
She was prepared to be dissected and redefined by strangers every day. But she didn’t want to be turned into gossip among people who knew her as a person. Just imagining the soldiers’ teasing grins gave her a headache.
You know… sometimes I just want to hide behind my work.
That was why Chloe had kept quiet about her background and her connection to the Marquis of Wellington within the base.
Even if she explained it, people wouldn’t easily understand, so she usually put it simply: everyone needed a separation between work and personal life.
“Is that a request?”
“Yeah.”
“What’ll you give me in return?”
“If there’s something you need, I’ll get it for you—as long as it’s within reason.”
Seeing her readily agree to a deal, Alvin smiled. She must really hate the idea of rumors spreading. Still, he wasn’t the kind of person who went out of his way to do what others disliked.
“Do I look like someone who’d spread rumors?”
Chloe shook her head silently, smiling with her eyes. Alvin was practically alone in the base. At first, she had thought he lacked social skills, but even a short conversation proved otherwise. He wasn’t being isolated—he was isolating everyone else. It was a rather unique charm.
Resting her mouth against her knees, Chloe smiled faintly with her eyes. After watching her for a while, Alvin asked,
“Chloe, what about you?”
“Hm?”
“Do you have a daughter who looks like you?”
When Chloe silently looked up at him, he smirked and rephrased,
“I mean, are you married?”
“Why? Do I look like I would be?”
“Not really, but it’s hard to guess your age.”
The soldiers at the base often teased her not only because her occasional reactions were amusing, but also because she looked young. But Alvin also sensed something else—a presence of someone who had seen and endured much.
And Chloe understood his intent fairly well. He was subtly asking about her age.
She tried to brush it off with a smile, as if she hadn’t understood. She didn’t think it was necessary to share such personal details.
But Alvin didn’t stop there. He pushed further into her private life.
“Then… do you have a lover?”
