In the final chapter of the original <For Evening Primrose>, Celine, rescued by the lieutenant colonel, gazes upon the blooming evening primroses beneath the moonlight on her way back to Belford, muttering to herself, "The beginning of love." She confesses her love to him, and the two live happily ever after. That is the story's conclusion and its finale.
The female protagonist, a real person, was captured by enemy officers and killed during the interwar period between World Wars I and II. The male protagonist, a lieutenant colonel, served as an Allied commander and was reportedly killed in action.
What is actually being conveyed is this:
There was no information anywhere that the two were in love or married. If the real-life officer had truly loved the kidnapped woman, he wouldn't have left her to die.
Even here, the lieutenant colonel shows little interest in Celine. Given that the author's story, inspired by a tragic personal story, was reimagined as a romance, likely that the two weren't actually in love or even lovers.
Even if it was just a dream, I didn't want to die and wanted comfort, so I poured my clumsy mercy into this body and allowed it to survive. Just as the scattered letters were reassembled after a fateful choice, I began to unfold as a subject possessing the secret of her birth as a Princess, whose life, consumed by the plot, was turned upside down.
Unbound by the original story, the player is given a unique choice, and the story flexibly shifts course based on personal decisions, not someone's intentions, leading to a causal conclusion. Unlike before, when the story was fully conscious of the original's content, the player has no way of knowing how the story will ultimately unfold.
“Noah, is that university in one of the constituent countries of Medea?”
“Yeah. It’s in Tristana, west of Medea Island.”
A geographically similar location to the university where I studied abroad. Same song, but with a different title: A Song of Parting. Same title: Nightmare, but with a painting of a priest, with only a demon and a woman, without a stallion.
The more I thought about the similar yet different elements of the two worlds, the more I felt a sense of unease and relief. I accepted that this was the real world. The people in this world, too, had their own lives, not fiction.
The question came to mind: 'Does the moon only exist when someone is looking at it?'
It's funny to think that I've come to another world, parallel to the one in the book.
I ran my fingers through Noah's silver hair and asked him about his past for the first time.
“What kind of life have you lived?”
He smiled blandly, making a salute as he grabbed the arm of the teddy bear on my lap.
“I lived by trampling and killing others. I had to survive.”
“In war?”
"The first time I killed someone was in the winter when I was ten. Adults tend to believe what children say."
I dropped my gaze and stared at the teddy bear in his hand. Had he, at such a young age, managed to ingeniously deceive someone into death? No, perhaps someone had tried to kill the child.
"At sixteen, I killed the Emperor's mistress. Mastiff's mother. Everyone thought she committed suicide. Except Mastiff."
“He knows that it was you who killed his mother?”
"Yes. She abused Mastiff and tried to kill him. At the time, I thought he was useful. The Emperor thought he was useless because he was an illegitimate child, so he named him like a dog. Mastiff and Argentino are the names of the Emperor's fierce dogs. They're also the names of the capitals he conquered."
So that's why Mastiff looked at Noah like that.
He also spoke of killing countless people on the front lines and in battlefields as a soldier. His words held no remorse. His voice, as calm as the surface of a windless lake, seemed to describe an ordinary, uneventful life.
For him, it was just another ordinary way of finding his own and surviving. I knew this was a world of cold-blooded predators who exploited the desperation of others and preyed on the weak. But I couldn't understand it all. From my perspective, having lived in the modern world, it was all bizarre.
“It must have been very difficult and lonely for you.”
"It was hard. I hated being covered in dirt and dust, and the barracks were dirty. Were I lonely?"
He had been speaking in a calm tone, but his mouth tightened, and he became lost in thought. A shadow fell over his face as he looked down at the teddy bear. His deepened eyes took on a dark blue hue.
"I guess I'll only know that when you're no longer in this world. Just thinking about it makes me feel bad."
“Wasn’t it like that when your parents passed away?”
“If I had to choose between feeling good and feeling bad, I’d say it’s closer to the latter. Simple, right?”
When I think back to the things they've said, I think they were good parents who loved him. He was indifferent and calm about the subject of his parents' death. I didn't ask him any more questions.
“Please tell me about our honey, too.”
Noah, who had already snuggled up next to me, asked me a charming question. I couldn't tell if he was asking about this life or the other. I vaguely tried to explain the situation by bringing up the original story, which he likely already knew, and the information I already had. Noah looked at me with a look of regret, but I didn't ask any more questions.
His hair, smelling of clean soap, tickled my chin. He leaned his head on my shoulder and spoke.
"Even if you have to leave, you'll go somewhere I can find. I'll visit you every day, give you flowers, buy you pudding, and treat you well. I have to convince you to come back."
"It's no use being nice to someone after they've left. If you want them to stay, you have to be a good person and be nice to them before they leave."
"Yes."
“You’re already a good person and have been good to me, so I don’t think you’ll ever leave me until I die. Right?”
I spoke to Noah, who seemed somewhat depressed, in a gentle, soothing tone, but he remained silent for a long time. I couldn't see his expression, so I couldn't tell. All I could hear was the sound of his regular breathing, now fading away.
“What if I die first?”
Noah raised his head to meet mine, smiling sweetly. His expression, so contrary to his mood, gave me a vague sense of unease. As soon as I realized he was worried about me, who would be left alone, not me, an inexplicable emotion welled up inside me.
He seems to be changing because of me.
The shooting competition took place at a multipurpose stadium in Colin. It was packed, easily accommodating tens of thousands of people.
I sat alongside Vincent, Barbara, and the Baroness of Chelsea. Boaz, a former military dog, was granted entry as an exception, and a passing soldier recognized him and waved. Commander Chelsea sat in uniform alongside high-ranking military figures to either side of the royal throne. Next to the Duke of Hessen were Daniel, Clad, and the Marquis of Wales and his wife.
"With Count Rotsilt's skill, victory is a sure thing. It will be an honor for the St. Louis Club."
Baroness Chelsea was brimming with anticipation. Barbara, fully dressed, kept glancing at Vincent, her cheeks flushed. I nibbled on the cookies Barbara had brought and asked the Baroness.
“I guess you’ve known each other for a long time.”
She told me that she first met Noah while she was stationed at the garrison with her former husband, Commander Chelsea.
“At that time, I felt so sorry for the young man who was suffering. And since he was a noble son, I felt bad for him.”
In a military system where obedience to orders is strictly enforced, I've heard that some generals' wives exploit their husbands' power to manipulate subordinates and soldiers like servants. However, I've heard that she's a respected woman known for her dedication to boosting the morale of the soldiers and for caring for them like her own child.
“I am glad that the Count has come to this country.”
The Baroness continued speaking as if talking to herself, looking into the distance.
“If we think of becoming adversaries because his military capabilities are so outstanding, it is simply impossible...”
She, who had been trailing off, suddenly covered her mouth in surprise.
“I apologize, Countess Rotsilt. I spoke unnecessarily.”
“No. I think it would be tiring for me to have my husband as my enemy.”
I understood her thoughts perfectly. If he wanted to, he would destroy a country.
The individual pistol shooting competition was about to begin at the stadium. Targets were set up at designated ranges, and points were awarded based on the shots fired. The military rifle category, in which Noah was competing, boasted the largest prize pool due to its numerous sponsors. With time remaining before Noah's turn, I got up and headed to the restroom.
As I was leaving the restroom and walking down the hallway to my seat, I ran into Ayla. She seemed to be there to attend to Erita.
“Hello, Countess Rotsilt.”
Ayla, her cheeks flushed brightly, greeted me first.
"Hello."
I tried to pass by, but Ayla's small hand gently grabbed my collar. She asked in a timid voice.
“Madam, what you said back then... did you really mean that you would be my friend?”
I regret saying those words, as they were said in a very emotional state at the time. Truthfully, I didn't want to get involved with this pitiful, frustrating woman.
Large eyes stared at me. In my perfectly rational state, I've never seen anyone swayed by pity or personal feelings come to a bad end. Perhaps it's because the impulsive actions that stem from such emotions are usually so clumsy. And since she's deeply connected to Mastiff, I'm sure she's a good one, too. I gently pulled back the sleeve she was holding.
“I was just trying to help you.”
“...Did you sympathize with me?”
“No, I just don’t feel good looking at it.”
I didn't know how to express the complex emotions I felt at that moment, so I quoted Noah's simple expression. Ayla's expression was sad, as if she understood everything, yet seemed strangely disappointed. But she still had a kind and gentle face.
"I'm sorry, I was short-sighted. How could you, a noble person, be friends with someone like me?"
“I don’t like saying things like that, so it would be better not to say them.”
"Sorry..."
I frowned as I saw Ayla clasping her hands and looking down at her toes.
“It’s not because of your status or origins. I just don’t like getting close to people in the first place.”
"All right."
She immediately nodded in agreement, bowing as if to a superior. What was going on inside her? She was a good and decent person, but she was also the weaker member of the food chain. And because she was self-contained and subservient, surviving in a world rife with selfishness and selfishness was no easy feat.
The people who truly harm me aren't those who openly despise and insult me. They're people who are completely different in their demeanor. They're people who cleverly disguise their true intentions and then outwardly act friendly, and then they start out kind, but later, unable to bear the reality, betray me.
“Countess Rotsilt!”
A lively voice called out to me from afar. Barbara, her face flushed with excitement, ran over, clutching the hem of her skirt, and grabbed my hand.
"I decided to go on a date with Mr. Ford! I asked him out first, just like you advised. He said he'd never seen a woman so proactive before, and he said he understood."
“That’s good.”
“I can't tell you how lucky I am to be friends with such a brilliant woman. Only good things happen to me.”
At the word "friend," Ayla's quiet gaze lingered on Barbara's grasping hand. I felt uncomfortable and embarrassed, as if my tongue had grown out. Barbara, who was always friendly, smiled at Ayla.
“Oh, you’re the palace maid I saw back then? Did you get treatment?”
"Yes. My name is Ayla Delson. Thank you for your concern, Miss."
“I am Barbara Chelsea, of the Baron Chelsea. Next time we meet at the palace, say hello.”
“Yes, Countess, Miss Chelsea. Enjoy your stay.”
Ayla bowed politely. I turned around, listening to Barbara's chattering. My steps felt heavy as I walked away, my back turned to Ayla, who was bowing her head. This wasn't my intention. It felt like a clear sign of discrimination, and I felt uneasy, so I turned around. She was still bowing, her posture low.
The female protagonist, a real person, was captured by enemy officers and killed during the interwar period between World Wars I and II. The male protagonist, a lieutenant colonel, served as an Allied commander and was reportedly killed in action.
What is actually being conveyed is this:
There was no information anywhere that the two were in love or married. If the real-life officer had truly loved the kidnapped woman, he wouldn't have left her to die.
Even here, the lieutenant colonel shows little interest in Celine. Given that the author's story, inspired by a tragic personal story, was reimagined as a romance, likely that the two weren't actually in love or even lovers.
Even if it was just a dream, I didn't want to die and wanted comfort, so I poured my clumsy mercy into this body and allowed it to survive. Just as the scattered letters were reassembled after a fateful choice, I began to unfold as a subject possessing the secret of her birth as a Princess, whose life, consumed by the plot, was turned upside down.
Unbound by the original story, the player is given a unique choice, and the story flexibly shifts course based on personal decisions, not someone's intentions, leading to a causal conclusion. Unlike before, when the story was fully conscious of the original's content, the player has no way of knowing how the story will ultimately unfold.
“Noah, is that university in one of the constituent countries of Medea?”
“Yeah. It’s in Tristana, west of Medea Island.”
A geographically similar location to the university where I studied abroad. Same song, but with a different title: A Song of Parting. Same title: Nightmare, but with a painting of a priest, with only a demon and a woman, without a stallion.
The more I thought about the similar yet different elements of the two worlds, the more I felt a sense of unease and relief. I accepted that this was the real world. The people in this world, too, had their own lives, not fiction.
The question came to mind: 'Does the moon only exist when someone is looking at it?'
It's funny to think that I've come to another world, parallel to the one in the book.
I ran my fingers through Noah's silver hair and asked him about his past for the first time.
“What kind of life have you lived?”
He smiled blandly, making a salute as he grabbed the arm of the teddy bear on my lap.
“I lived by trampling and killing others. I had to survive.”
“In war?”
"The first time I killed someone was in the winter when I was ten. Adults tend to believe what children say."
I dropped my gaze and stared at the teddy bear in his hand. Had he, at such a young age, managed to ingeniously deceive someone into death? No, perhaps someone had tried to kill the child.
"At sixteen, I killed the Emperor's mistress. Mastiff's mother. Everyone thought she committed suicide. Except Mastiff."
“He knows that it was you who killed his mother?”
"Yes. She abused Mastiff and tried to kill him. At the time, I thought he was useful. The Emperor thought he was useless because he was an illegitimate child, so he named him like a dog. Mastiff and Argentino are the names of the Emperor's fierce dogs. They're also the names of the capitals he conquered."
So that's why Mastiff looked at Noah like that.
He also spoke of killing countless people on the front lines and in battlefields as a soldier. His words held no remorse. His voice, as calm as the surface of a windless lake, seemed to describe an ordinary, uneventful life.
For him, it was just another ordinary way of finding his own and surviving. I knew this was a world of cold-blooded predators who exploited the desperation of others and preyed on the weak. But I couldn't understand it all. From my perspective, having lived in the modern world, it was all bizarre.
“It must have been very difficult and lonely for you.”
"It was hard. I hated being covered in dirt and dust, and the barracks were dirty. Were I lonely?"
He had been speaking in a calm tone, but his mouth tightened, and he became lost in thought. A shadow fell over his face as he looked down at the teddy bear. His deepened eyes took on a dark blue hue.
"I guess I'll only know that when you're no longer in this world. Just thinking about it makes me feel bad."
“Wasn’t it like that when your parents passed away?”
“If I had to choose between feeling good and feeling bad, I’d say it’s closer to the latter. Simple, right?”
When I think back to the things they've said, I think they were good parents who loved him. He was indifferent and calm about the subject of his parents' death. I didn't ask him any more questions.
“Please tell me about our honey, too.”
Noah, who had already snuggled up next to me, asked me a charming question. I couldn't tell if he was asking about this life or the other. I vaguely tried to explain the situation by bringing up the original story, which he likely already knew, and the information I already had. Noah looked at me with a look of regret, but I didn't ask any more questions.
His hair, smelling of clean soap, tickled my chin. He leaned his head on my shoulder and spoke.
"Even if you have to leave, you'll go somewhere I can find. I'll visit you every day, give you flowers, buy you pudding, and treat you well. I have to convince you to come back."
"It's no use being nice to someone after they've left. If you want them to stay, you have to be a good person and be nice to them before they leave."
"Yes."
“You’re already a good person and have been good to me, so I don’t think you’ll ever leave me until I die. Right?”
I spoke to Noah, who seemed somewhat depressed, in a gentle, soothing tone, but he remained silent for a long time. I couldn't see his expression, so I couldn't tell. All I could hear was the sound of his regular breathing, now fading away.
“What if I die first?”
Noah raised his head to meet mine, smiling sweetly. His expression, so contrary to his mood, gave me a vague sense of unease. As soon as I realized he was worried about me, who would be left alone, not me, an inexplicable emotion welled up inside me.
He seems to be changing because of me.
***
The shooting competition took place at a multipurpose stadium in Colin. It was packed, easily accommodating tens of thousands of people.
I sat alongside Vincent, Barbara, and the Baroness of Chelsea. Boaz, a former military dog, was granted entry as an exception, and a passing soldier recognized him and waved. Commander Chelsea sat in uniform alongside high-ranking military figures to either side of the royal throne. Next to the Duke of Hessen were Daniel, Clad, and the Marquis of Wales and his wife.
"With Count Rotsilt's skill, victory is a sure thing. It will be an honor for the St. Louis Club."
Baroness Chelsea was brimming with anticipation. Barbara, fully dressed, kept glancing at Vincent, her cheeks flushed. I nibbled on the cookies Barbara had brought and asked the Baroness.
“I guess you’ve known each other for a long time.”
She told me that she first met Noah while she was stationed at the garrison with her former husband, Commander Chelsea.
“At that time, I felt so sorry for the young man who was suffering. And since he was a noble son, I felt bad for him.”
In a military system where obedience to orders is strictly enforced, I've heard that some generals' wives exploit their husbands' power to manipulate subordinates and soldiers like servants. However, I've heard that she's a respected woman known for her dedication to boosting the morale of the soldiers and for caring for them like her own child.
“I am glad that the Count has come to this country.”
The Baroness continued speaking as if talking to herself, looking into the distance.
“If we think of becoming adversaries because his military capabilities are so outstanding, it is simply impossible...”
She, who had been trailing off, suddenly covered her mouth in surprise.
“I apologize, Countess Rotsilt. I spoke unnecessarily.”
“No. I think it would be tiring for me to have my husband as my enemy.”
I understood her thoughts perfectly. If he wanted to, he would destroy a country.
The individual pistol shooting competition was about to begin at the stadium. Targets were set up at designated ranges, and points were awarded based on the shots fired. The military rifle category, in which Noah was competing, boasted the largest prize pool due to its numerous sponsors. With time remaining before Noah's turn, I got up and headed to the restroom.
As I was leaving the restroom and walking down the hallway to my seat, I ran into Ayla. She seemed to be there to attend to Erita.
“Hello, Countess Rotsilt.”
Ayla, her cheeks flushed brightly, greeted me first.
"Hello."
I tried to pass by, but Ayla's small hand gently grabbed my collar. She asked in a timid voice.
“Madam, what you said back then... did you really mean that you would be my friend?”
I regret saying those words, as they were said in a very emotional state at the time. Truthfully, I didn't want to get involved with this pitiful, frustrating woman.
Large eyes stared at me. In my perfectly rational state, I've never seen anyone swayed by pity or personal feelings come to a bad end. Perhaps it's because the impulsive actions that stem from such emotions are usually so clumsy. And since she's deeply connected to Mastiff, I'm sure she's a good one, too. I gently pulled back the sleeve she was holding.
“I was just trying to help you.”
“...Did you sympathize with me?”
“No, I just don’t feel good looking at it.”
I didn't know how to express the complex emotions I felt at that moment, so I quoted Noah's simple expression. Ayla's expression was sad, as if she understood everything, yet seemed strangely disappointed. But she still had a kind and gentle face.
"I'm sorry, I was short-sighted. How could you, a noble person, be friends with someone like me?"
“I don’t like saying things like that, so it would be better not to say them.”
"Sorry..."
I frowned as I saw Ayla clasping her hands and looking down at her toes.
“It’s not because of your status or origins. I just don’t like getting close to people in the first place.”
"All right."
She immediately nodded in agreement, bowing as if to a superior. What was going on inside her? She was a good and decent person, but she was also the weaker member of the food chain. And because she was self-contained and subservient, surviving in a world rife with selfishness and selfishness was no easy feat.
The people who truly harm me aren't those who openly despise and insult me. They're people who are completely different in their demeanor. They're people who cleverly disguise their true intentions and then outwardly act friendly, and then they start out kind, but later, unable to bear the reality, betray me.
“Countess Rotsilt!”
A lively voice called out to me from afar. Barbara, her face flushed with excitement, ran over, clutching the hem of her skirt, and grabbed my hand.
"I decided to go on a date with Mr. Ford! I asked him out first, just like you advised. He said he'd never seen a woman so proactive before, and he said he understood."
“That’s good.”
“I can't tell you how lucky I am to be friends with such a brilliant woman. Only good things happen to me.”
At the word "friend," Ayla's quiet gaze lingered on Barbara's grasping hand. I felt uncomfortable and embarrassed, as if my tongue had grown out. Barbara, who was always friendly, smiled at Ayla.
“Oh, you’re the palace maid I saw back then? Did you get treatment?”
"Yes. My name is Ayla Delson. Thank you for your concern, Miss."
“I am Barbara Chelsea, of the Baron Chelsea. Next time we meet at the palace, say hello.”
“Yes, Countess, Miss Chelsea. Enjoy your stay.”
Ayla bowed politely. I turned around, listening to Barbara's chattering. My steps felt heavy as I walked away, my back turned to Ayla, who was bowing her head. This wasn't my intention. It felt like a clear sign of discrimination, and I felt uneasy, so I turned around. She was still bowing, her posture low.
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