Chapter 5
Abel Klaren.
The son of an unremarkable viscount, with no estate of his own to speak of.
Around this time, she was on the receiving end of every possible torment from Abel. The harassment only ceased once the war broke out and conscription papers arrived.
In other words, she was destined to suffer under this brat for the next several years.
Under normal circumstances, that is.
“Didn’t you visit the nearby count’s residence yesterday? Help your poor little brother out! If you do, I’ll pay you back double.”
Abel, sprawled on the floor, laughed while dramatically spreading his arms.
It was fortunate that they were renting a building tucked away in a quiet corner due to their lack of money. Had they been in the city center, the brat’s reckless behavior—never caring about who might be listening—would have had the whole town buzzing about her being a girl.
“How long do you plan to live like such a pitiful creature?”
“Oh, pitiful? This little brother just had a bit of bad luck. But now that I’ve met my sister again… maybe I’m lucky?”
A faint glint of mischief danced in Abel’s dull eyes. Even upon seeing him again, it was clear he had an unnaturally sharp mind for trouble.
Abel had waited until she got a job, only to appear and boldly extort money from her. He took her house call fees under the guise of “name value” and then squandered it at the harbor city’s racetrack and gambling halls.
Abel’s very existence was proof enough that she had “misappropriated” funds, so Ivel had no choice but to hand over the money.
“This is all the money I have right now.”
Ivel pulled an envelope of cash from a drawer and tossed it.
Abel caught it, sniffed it, and grinned widely.
“Good, good. That’ll do for now. But next time, be better prepared. You still owe me for the drinks on credit.”
…Perhaps I should just jam a pistol into that frivolous mouth of his.
Struggling to hold onto her fleeting sanity, she leaned against the window, watching Abel scuttle away, snickering to himself.
“Either way, if I live as I did in the past, I’ll end up conscripted and dragged off…”
Suddenly, the words the Grand Duke had said before her death came to mind:
“Getting married and being a good husband isn’t a bad thing. Caring for a family… living like everyone else.”
Perhaps this announcement she was posting now was her attempt to live by that advice. Or perhaps it was a miracle from the gods urging her to try. Not that she was particularly religious.
After much contemplation, Ivel retrieved her worn travel bag around sunset. She neatly packed her tools, then counted out the travel money hidden in a secret pocket inside the bag, coin by coin.
Though losing yesterday’s house call fee stung, she had always reserved 10% for emergencies like this.
The problem now is… where do I apply for this posting?
A small problem was resolved the next day by a newspaper advertisement.
[-.- --- -. .-. .- -.. / …- --- -. / . -… . .-. … - . .. -. . / .-.. .. -.-. …. - . -. / .-.. .. -. -.. . -. … - .-. .- … … . / .---- ..--- . / .--. --- … - -.-. --- -.. . / .---- ----- ----- .---- …--]
The ad contained nothing but a string of Morse code—typical of that person.
Ivel naturally decoded it:
“Konrad von Eberstein. Lichten Linden estate, No. 12. Postal code 10013…”
Her gaze lingered briefly on the name Konrad.
I see… he must still be alive at this point in time.
Having discovered where to go, Ivel resolved to depart before Abel could appear again. She firmly locked the door behind her, grasped her bag, and didn’t look back.
Like the Grand Duke before her, she had taken a step to change her own fate.
“Do you really think the person looking for this will figure it out and come here?”
A few days after the bizarre Bavarian advertisement set the capital abuzz, the Grand Duke’s private residence was quiet, known only to a handful: the Grand Duke himself, his most trusted aide Matthias, and Colonel Konrad von Eberstein, who had long been loyal.
Normally, the secret residence sat empty, unattended. Today, however, two shadows stretched along the window.
Watching the fiery sky at dusk, Victor answered quietly:
“She will come.”
“Could you at least tell me who she is and where you met her? I have no idea what’s going on. Officially, it seems she’s at her estate, but in reality… she rushed to the capital…”
She had come to meet a companion who had endured deeper horrors than any nightmare. Though not one to speak such awkward truths, even saying it wouldn’t guarantee belief.
“No.”
Victor cut off his aide’s protest and turned his gaze to the tall grass and dandelions swaying carelessly along the path.
A few minutes later, someone appeared beyond the waving grass.
Platinum hair glowing in the sunset, long and delicate eyelashes, full lips, and amber eyes reminiscent of the summer sun.
Whenever he saw her fighting to save lives through falling ash, he always thought the same thing: she seemed as if she could pull you in completely.
She really did come.
Victor’s brief thought ended, and Matthias panicked:
“Oh? She’s really here! But she looks like a boy? Short hair too!”
“Escort her in properly.”
“Ah, yes!”
Flustered, Matthias hurried inside, and Victor waited calmly.
Ordinary people could not read the Morse code. Only those involved in the military could. There was a risk that the secret residence might be exposed, but it would be abandoned after the mission, so it didn’t matter.
It wasn’t wartime now. Meeting Abel again was worth more than a house.
Moreover, the newspaper code wasn’t standard Morse—it was a system the Bavarian army had devised during the war.
They’re probably frantic trying to decode it by now.
It wouldn’t be easy. It was a system created by a soldier with terrifying talent for ciphers.
“Hello. I’m here to apply for the contracted Grand Duchess position.”
The calm, measured voice at the doorway made Victor smile despite himself—a rare occurrence.
At this point, she shouldn’t have been able to read Morse. An ordinary doctor wouldn’t know the code used by the Bavarian army.
“Had you not come, we would have taken another approach… but that won’t be necessary.”
“It’s been a long time, Your Excellency.”
Her voice carried the chill of the air itself, calling autumn into the heat at once.
Victor slowly turned, taking in a figure far slimmer and frailer than his memory recalled. Evening light seeped from her pant hems upward, bathing her in a warm reddish-brown glow.
As she stepped forward, vivid memories he tried to forget surged back to life.
“I couldn’t believe it for a day… did you feel the same?”
“Yes. Seeing Your Excellency return safely… I suppose I wasn’t completely mad after all.”
They had died together and returned to the past at the same time. This was neither dream nor hallucination.
What proof could be more certain than each other?
“Bavarian Grand Duchy Autonomous Corps, Medical Officer Second Lieutenant Abel Klaren. Reporting safe return.”
She saluted, right fist over her left chest—the Bavarian Autonomous Corps’ unique style.
One of twelve survivors from a massive 50,000-strong corps. She had endured to the end on the front lines.
This actually works.
Ivel murmured to herself, raising her cup.
