Noah didn't capture Diana. He didn't kill her, and he didn't save her.
He just stood there dumbfounded, watching the Princess he had saved leave him and disappear into the darkness across the snowy road.
He constantly recalled Diana's smile as she departed. A smile he'd seen before, a smile that didn't smile. As he lingered over the spot she'd left, his vision suddenly etched with the image of someone lost in the past. It was his mother, with her long, silver-white hair, facing him as an adult.
'It's not that adults don't cry. They just can't cry.'
The winter wind blowing through the bare winter trees carried fragments of memories already burned away. Even his mother's gentle, smiling hand had transformed into a pale breeze, caressing his cheek. Noah stood motionless, motionless. Only the wispy breath escaping from his lips could tell he was still alive.
Only after Diana was completely out of sight did he raise a hand to signal somewhere. At the same time, the sound of rapid footsteps was heard everywhere, followed by the muffled crackle of gunfire.
A large number of Frogen troops, who had been hiding in advance, began to surround the remaining Belford troops and wipe them out.
The once bright and warm mansion was engulfed in gunfire and agonizing screams. With the number of soldiers overwhelmingly outnumbering those attending the engagement ceremony, it was nothing short of a massacre.
Standing amidst the chaos, Noah still couldn't tear his gaze away from the direction Diana had left. Even as a bullet flew in his direction during the encounter and grazed his arm, he remained motionless.
The sleeves of his shirt were instantly dyed blood red. A soldier with a rifle saw this from afar and rushed over.
“Colonel, are you alright?”
“It’s not okay.”
Noah's voice cracked low. His face was completely devoid of emotion.
The soldier who had been stanching the bleeding flinched for a moment at the sight of the colonel, seemingly insensitive to the biting cold and pain. Vincent, who had rushed out in a hurry, was also shocked to see blood dripping down Noah's finger.
“You're bleeding! Are you okay?”
“I wish you would stop asking.”
Vincent, who realized that the man was extremely angry, spoke in a low, calm tone and turned his head to look around at the quiet surroundings.
All that could be heard was the sound of the Frogen soldiers' boots moving busily, stepping on the rustling fallen leaves, and the sound of the desolate wind shaking the tree branches.
“Did you wipe everything out?”
“You didn’t kill the most important person.”
Vincent's mouth fell open slightly as he grasped the situation. Diana was nowhere to be found.
“You didn’t kill him?”
"The black military dog. He ended up taking Diana away."
Noah, who had maintained a blank expression even after being shot, furrowed his brow slightly. Vincent, his wheat-colored eyes darting around, finally grasped the situation.
“Were she caught?”
“I think she followed along on her own.”
Noah answered in a calm tone, wiping his face with one hand.
Vincent felt a twinge of anger towards Diana.
She followed him? Where else can you find a man who treats you so well and gives you such great conditions? How much money did he spend on that woman?
Even though he didn't have time for romance, he thoroughly supported Noah in his love life as a man who supported him. Vincent even had a certain respect for him.
Suddenly, he felt something strange and looked at Noah with an unfamiliar gaze.
There's no way he'd let her go so easily. There must have been a reason he'd risked his life and personally traveled to the enemy's land to bring her back.
“The moon is pretty. I forgot to say happy birthday.”
A man in his right mind looked up at the moon in the sky, let out his breath, and laughed hollowly.
What if he goes crazy like this? He's already a weirdo.
Concerned about his mental state, Vincent coughed and tried to think of words of comfort for the breakup. He had experienced a breakup himself, but none of the words he'd heard had resonated with him, so he could only ask why.
“Why did you just let her go?”
“You said so. You don’t want the person you love to die.”
Noah raised his head and looked upstairs. Vincent followed his gaze.
"And the sniper would have been aiming at the car. If Diana had gotten out of the car, she would have been dead."
A commotion was heard from the third-floor window facing the back door, and then the glass shattered with a sharp crack. Shards flew into the air, and a tuxedoed man, who had been hiding as part of the orchestra, fell to the ground.
The man's body hit the floor with a dull thud. Noah's dry eyes turned to the man who had fallen into the flowerbed.
"Is this the Admiral's doing? Wouldn't it be a problem if she died?"
"I would have shot him anyway. It wasn't just the Admiral's idea. The weight of life was so different that it wasn't worth weighing."
Vincent's habitual musings were interrupted by Noah's unkind words. Belford's defeat in the trench warfare meant they were effectively defeated by Frogen.
With the death of Noah, a Duke and high-ranking officer, Frogen's negotiation demands would become even more intense, so there must have been an order from above: immediately kill Diana in the event of an emergency and then flee with Lieutenant Colonel Groenendaal.
Noah's gaze lingered on the man who had fallen, seriously injured, and flinched. Red blood spread across the white snow.
"Vincent, the only one who really tried to save Diana in Belford was the black war dog. What a disgusting sense of justice."
So I was going to kill him today. It was obvious why they sent the lieutenant colonel, the son of the prime minister.
To hide the fact that Belford was likely to lose, and that negotiations were ongoing. To show that they weren't being swayed by Frogen.
The lieutenant colonel wouldn't know that. Even if he did, he might pretend not to. The soldiers on the rescue mission were all expendable, prepared to save themselves.
Diana had almost been sacrificed in his heroic play. The success of the rescue operation wasn't the point.
Belford had to protect their pride and also keep an eye on Frogen's feelings, so they only focused on carrying out the operation, even if it failed, with the intention of calming public opinion by putting forward the fallen soldiers.
Noah aimed his gun at the man lying on the flower bed, groaning.
Everyone was focused on Diana, so he couldn't pull it out. Deep thought was visible in his clouded blue eyes.
He thought his plan to kill the lieutenant colonel was flawless. If he had, Diana would have been his, hidden forever. But uncharacteristically, he let his guard down and overlooked it.
He had meticulously calculated countless variables and possibilities, but there was one thing he missed: leaving her alone, even for a moment.
He couldn't have known Diana would choose to follow the lieutenant colonel, leaving him behind. He'd seen her every day, bought her clothes and jewelry, and done everything he knew to be common sense.
He just didn't want anyone to interfere; he didn't want anyone to take her away, he just didn't think Diana would make her own choices.
Three on the third floor, eight on the garden side, all aimed at the car. They were probably just waiting to stop the escape and rescue Diana. Admiral Claire had lost all use for her, and now she had become his sin and weakness, and he needed to kill her.
Who would have thought that a brief moment of leeway would create an unforeseen situation?
What should I have done? No, what should I do now?
Noah's face, lost in thought, twisted fiercely, like a beast baring its fangs, its nose crinkled. The withered, yellow leaves of the barren winter trees trembled in the wind.
Within a few minutes, six gunshots rang out at regular intervals.
I am staying at the Admiral's mansion.
I wasn't treated like a kitchen maid like before. I was given a decent room, meals, and clothes, and even a maid. They must have been conscious of the public's gaze and the lieutenant colonel's.
But even though the cold gaze and subtle contempt only touched me faintly, an inexplicable emotion welled up in me, churning my stomach. When I arrived at the admiral's mansion with Lieutenant Colonel Groenendaal, the scent of Celine, who was sobbing and embracing me before the lieutenant colonel, was so repulsive that I vomited gastric juices onto her clothes. Perhaps nervous, I felt motion sickness on the way, and having not eaten anything, I felt nauseous.
“I knew how they treated you there. But they won't treat you carelessly anymore.”
This is what the lieutenant colonel said before we arrived. What are the standards for such a thing?
Starving me, locking me in a stable, and making me do hard work? I almost froze to death in the stable that day. Someone covered me with a blanket and left me to live.
But now, this situation is so frustrating that I could die. Since I got here, I've been doing nothing but lounging around in my room, listless.
I read books, lay down, pondered, and occasionally thought of Noah. That's how I spent my meaningless days, rising and setting.
The windows of my room were darkened, signaling that another night had arrived. A cold-faced, blonde maid burst through the door without knocking, handing me a pair of pajamas with one hand.
“You wore it. Bring me new pajamas.”
When I asked her again for the pajamas she had been wearing, she made a displeased expression and grumbled softly.
“Oh, my. You’ve taken my master away, a woman who was treated like a kitchen maid.”
“Hey, bring some water too.”
The maid, who had a frown on her face at the commanding tone, brought a water bottle without a cup.
“Here.”
The maid who had placed the water bottle on the table with a thud turned around with a squeak.
Clang-.
A glass water bottle shattered on the floor. The water spilled onto the carpetless wooden floor, flowing along the glass and wood grain, soaking the floor.
The maid, who had been rude, looked at me, sitting in the armchair, her eyes wide with surprise. I was the one who had thrown the glass bottle so fiercely that it shattered. I nodded at the floor.
“Drink.”
The maid, seeing my expressionless face, just gaped.
“What are you talking about!...”
“You gave me water like this. Do you understand?”
“I don’t quite understand.”
"You only gave me a water bottle, not a cup. I told my father you needed more training because you lacked the basics, so he'll fire you."
The maid's expression became blank at my calm tone. After racking her brain for a while, she suddenly seemed to realize something and quickly grabbed a rag and began wiping it down with enthusiasm.
Now, it seemed, I had finally realized there was a reason I had my own room and was no longer treated like a maid. I sat there, looking down at the maid with a cold gaze.
The maid stopped mopping for a moment and bowed her head again.
"Sorry..."
“They say you don’t know until you experience it yourself.”
I'm talking about this really dirty feeling.
Can a good attitude and heart inspire people and change the world? That's only possible if you assume a special person who takes on the role of protagonist. After all, the world revolves around protagonists.
Even if I, a supporting character and expendable, try to comply and act well, I will only be sacrificed and abandoned for the sake of the protagonist's situation and development.
I've resolved to live longer than Diana's supporting role. I refuse to die as a powerless supporting character, so I'm going to add madness to the villainy. I want to trample and tear apart the original's old-fashioned justice, which even sacrifices someone to teach a lesson.
The maid who had cleaned the floor bowed in greeting. But as she left the room, a faint murmur could be heard.
“Crazy bitch.”
I looked up at the ceiling for a moment and then called the maid back.
The word I've heard the most throughout my life is 'crazy bitch'.
The crazy circumstances around me are driving me crazy. This world is crazy.
He just stood there dumbfounded, watching the Princess he had saved leave him and disappear into the darkness across the snowy road.
He constantly recalled Diana's smile as she departed. A smile he'd seen before, a smile that didn't smile. As he lingered over the spot she'd left, his vision suddenly etched with the image of someone lost in the past. It was his mother, with her long, silver-white hair, facing him as an adult.
'It's not that adults don't cry. They just can't cry.'
The winter wind blowing through the bare winter trees carried fragments of memories already burned away. Even his mother's gentle, smiling hand had transformed into a pale breeze, caressing his cheek. Noah stood motionless, motionless. Only the wispy breath escaping from his lips could tell he was still alive.
Only after Diana was completely out of sight did he raise a hand to signal somewhere. At the same time, the sound of rapid footsteps was heard everywhere, followed by the muffled crackle of gunfire.
A large number of Frogen troops, who had been hiding in advance, began to surround the remaining Belford troops and wipe them out.
The once bright and warm mansion was engulfed in gunfire and agonizing screams. With the number of soldiers overwhelmingly outnumbering those attending the engagement ceremony, it was nothing short of a massacre.
Standing amidst the chaos, Noah still couldn't tear his gaze away from the direction Diana had left. Even as a bullet flew in his direction during the encounter and grazed his arm, he remained motionless.
The sleeves of his shirt were instantly dyed blood red. A soldier with a rifle saw this from afar and rushed over.
“Colonel, are you alright?”
“It’s not okay.”
Noah's voice cracked low. His face was completely devoid of emotion.
The soldier who had been stanching the bleeding flinched for a moment at the sight of the colonel, seemingly insensitive to the biting cold and pain. Vincent, who had rushed out in a hurry, was also shocked to see blood dripping down Noah's finger.
“You're bleeding! Are you okay?”
“I wish you would stop asking.”
Vincent, who realized that the man was extremely angry, spoke in a low, calm tone and turned his head to look around at the quiet surroundings.
All that could be heard was the sound of the Frogen soldiers' boots moving busily, stepping on the rustling fallen leaves, and the sound of the desolate wind shaking the tree branches.
“Did you wipe everything out?”
“You didn’t kill the most important person.”
Vincent's mouth fell open slightly as he grasped the situation. Diana was nowhere to be found.
“You didn’t kill him?”
"The black military dog. He ended up taking Diana away."
Noah, who had maintained a blank expression even after being shot, furrowed his brow slightly. Vincent, his wheat-colored eyes darting around, finally grasped the situation.
“Were she caught?”
“I think she followed along on her own.”
Noah answered in a calm tone, wiping his face with one hand.
Vincent felt a twinge of anger towards Diana.
She followed him? Where else can you find a man who treats you so well and gives you such great conditions? How much money did he spend on that woman?
Even though he didn't have time for romance, he thoroughly supported Noah in his love life as a man who supported him. Vincent even had a certain respect for him.
Suddenly, he felt something strange and looked at Noah with an unfamiliar gaze.
There's no way he'd let her go so easily. There must have been a reason he'd risked his life and personally traveled to the enemy's land to bring her back.
“The moon is pretty. I forgot to say happy birthday.”
A man in his right mind looked up at the moon in the sky, let out his breath, and laughed hollowly.
What if he goes crazy like this? He's already a weirdo.
Concerned about his mental state, Vincent coughed and tried to think of words of comfort for the breakup. He had experienced a breakup himself, but none of the words he'd heard had resonated with him, so he could only ask why.
“Why did you just let her go?”
“You said so. You don’t want the person you love to die.”
Noah raised his head and looked upstairs. Vincent followed his gaze.
"And the sniper would have been aiming at the car. If Diana had gotten out of the car, she would have been dead."
A commotion was heard from the third-floor window facing the back door, and then the glass shattered with a sharp crack. Shards flew into the air, and a tuxedoed man, who had been hiding as part of the orchestra, fell to the ground.
The man's body hit the floor with a dull thud. Noah's dry eyes turned to the man who had fallen into the flowerbed.
"Is this the Admiral's doing? Wouldn't it be a problem if she died?"
"I would have shot him anyway. It wasn't just the Admiral's idea. The weight of life was so different that it wasn't worth weighing."
Vincent's habitual musings were interrupted by Noah's unkind words. Belford's defeat in the trench warfare meant they were effectively defeated by Frogen.
With the death of Noah, a Duke and high-ranking officer, Frogen's negotiation demands would become even more intense, so there must have been an order from above: immediately kill Diana in the event of an emergency and then flee with Lieutenant Colonel Groenendaal.
Noah's gaze lingered on the man who had fallen, seriously injured, and flinched. Red blood spread across the white snow.
"Vincent, the only one who really tried to save Diana in Belford was the black war dog. What a disgusting sense of justice."
So I was going to kill him today. It was obvious why they sent the lieutenant colonel, the son of the prime minister.
To hide the fact that Belford was likely to lose, and that negotiations were ongoing. To show that they weren't being swayed by Frogen.
The lieutenant colonel wouldn't know that. Even if he did, he might pretend not to. The soldiers on the rescue mission were all expendable, prepared to save themselves.
Diana had almost been sacrificed in his heroic play. The success of the rescue operation wasn't the point.
Belford had to protect their pride and also keep an eye on Frogen's feelings, so they only focused on carrying out the operation, even if it failed, with the intention of calming public opinion by putting forward the fallen soldiers.
Noah aimed his gun at the man lying on the flower bed, groaning.
Everyone was focused on Diana, so he couldn't pull it out. Deep thought was visible in his clouded blue eyes.
He thought his plan to kill the lieutenant colonel was flawless. If he had, Diana would have been his, hidden forever. But uncharacteristically, he let his guard down and overlooked it.
He had meticulously calculated countless variables and possibilities, but there was one thing he missed: leaving her alone, even for a moment.
He couldn't have known Diana would choose to follow the lieutenant colonel, leaving him behind. He'd seen her every day, bought her clothes and jewelry, and done everything he knew to be common sense.
He just didn't want anyone to interfere; he didn't want anyone to take her away, he just didn't think Diana would make her own choices.
Three on the third floor, eight on the garden side, all aimed at the car. They were probably just waiting to stop the escape and rescue Diana. Admiral Claire had lost all use for her, and now she had become his sin and weakness, and he needed to kill her.
Who would have thought that a brief moment of leeway would create an unforeseen situation?
What should I have done? No, what should I do now?
Noah's face, lost in thought, twisted fiercely, like a beast baring its fangs, its nose crinkled. The withered, yellow leaves of the barren winter trees trembled in the wind.
Within a few minutes, six gunshots rang out at regular intervals.
***
I am staying at the Admiral's mansion.
I wasn't treated like a kitchen maid like before. I was given a decent room, meals, and clothes, and even a maid. They must have been conscious of the public's gaze and the lieutenant colonel's.
But even though the cold gaze and subtle contempt only touched me faintly, an inexplicable emotion welled up in me, churning my stomach. When I arrived at the admiral's mansion with Lieutenant Colonel Groenendaal, the scent of Celine, who was sobbing and embracing me before the lieutenant colonel, was so repulsive that I vomited gastric juices onto her clothes. Perhaps nervous, I felt motion sickness on the way, and having not eaten anything, I felt nauseous.
“I knew how they treated you there. But they won't treat you carelessly anymore.”
This is what the lieutenant colonel said before we arrived. What are the standards for such a thing?
Starving me, locking me in a stable, and making me do hard work? I almost froze to death in the stable that day. Someone covered me with a blanket and left me to live.
But now, this situation is so frustrating that I could die. Since I got here, I've been doing nothing but lounging around in my room, listless.
I read books, lay down, pondered, and occasionally thought of Noah. That's how I spent my meaningless days, rising and setting.
The windows of my room were darkened, signaling that another night had arrived. A cold-faced, blonde maid burst through the door without knocking, handing me a pair of pajamas with one hand.
“You wore it. Bring me new pajamas.”
When I asked her again for the pajamas she had been wearing, she made a displeased expression and grumbled softly.
“Oh, my. You’ve taken my master away, a woman who was treated like a kitchen maid.”
“Hey, bring some water too.”
The maid, who had a frown on her face at the commanding tone, brought a water bottle without a cup.
“Here.”
The maid who had placed the water bottle on the table with a thud turned around with a squeak.
Clang-.
A glass water bottle shattered on the floor. The water spilled onto the carpetless wooden floor, flowing along the glass and wood grain, soaking the floor.
The maid, who had been rude, looked at me, sitting in the armchair, her eyes wide with surprise. I was the one who had thrown the glass bottle so fiercely that it shattered. I nodded at the floor.
“Drink.”
The maid, seeing my expressionless face, just gaped.
“What are you talking about!...”
“You gave me water like this. Do you understand?”
“I don’t quite understand.”
"You only gave me a water bottle, not a cup. I told my father you needed more training because you lacked the basics, so he'll fire you."
The maid's expression became blank at my calm tone. After racking her brain for a while, she suddenly seemed to realize something and quickly grabbed a rag and began wiping it down with enthusiasm.
Now, it seemed, I had finally realized there was a reason I had my own room and was no longer treated like a maid. I sat there, looking down at the maid with a cold gaze.
The maid stopped mopping for a moment and bowed her head again.
"Sorry..."
“They say you don’t know until you experience it yourself.”
I'm talking about this really dirty feeling.
Can a good attitude and heart inspire people and change the world? That's only possible if you assume a special person who takes on the role of protagonist. After all, the world revolves around protagonists.
Even if I, a supporting character and expendable, try to comply and act well, I will only be sacrificed and abandoned for the sake of the protagonist's situation and development.
I've resolved to live longer than Diana's supporting role. I refuse to die as a powerless supporting character, so I'm going to add madness to the villainy. I want to trample and tear apart the original's old-fashioned justice, which even sacrifices someone to teach a lesson.
The maid who had cleaned the floor bowed in greeting. But as she left the room, a faint murmur could be heard.
“Crazy bitch.”
I looked up at the ceiling for a moment and then called the maid back.
The word I've heard the most throughout my life is 'crazy bitch'.
The crazy circumstances around me are driving me crazy. This world is crazy.
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