Five hours had passed since the airstrike ended. Lieutenant Colonel Groenendaal had escaped the devastation because he was at the embassy in the capital, not at his headquarters in the border town of Cainsoe.
The lieutenant colonel, who had taken refuge in the embassy's underground bunker, was about to return to Belford when he received an urgent telegram from the admiral. His blue eyes widened as he heard the news that Celine might have been caught up in the city's air raid.
“Why Celine...”
He stood there, dazed, for a long time. Barely regaining consciousness, he relayed instructions through a radio operator to the Belford garrison to find Celine Claire, the admiral's daughter. With the cooperation of the Cain Corps, local soldiers were also deployed and began a search for her.
He was advised to return to Belford quickly due to the risk of a second air raid by his father, the Prime Minister, but he replied that he would return after finding his wife, Admiral Claire's daughter.
Because the casualties were so numerous, it took a full day for the damaged vehicle to be discovered and Celine's whereabouts to be traced. Upon hearing that she was fortunately alive, but in critical condition, at the military hospital, the lieutenant colonel sighed, wiping his face as if washing his face.
When Lieutenant Colonel Groenendaal arrived at the hospital with his interpreter, the patient was already in surgery, so he had to wait in the waiting room for several hours. The hospital was in chaos, with patients dying in horrific conditions, caught in the bombing, and people rushing in, begging for help.
“Lieutenant Colonel Groenendaal, I hear the surgery is complete.”
The doctor, emerging from a lengthy operation, wiped away the sweat and turned to the lieutenant colonel with a sorrowful expression. The interpreter standing next to him interpreted his words.
"They say your wife doesn't look like she'll make it through the day. Her legs were amputated, along with burns all over her body. She was crushed by the collapsing debris, suffering a cerebral hemorrhage and extensive organ damage. With sepsis also developing, they determined her body wouldn't be able to hold on, so all they could do was stop the bleeding and remove the shrapnel. It's a miracle she's still alive..."
The interpreter, his face aching with pain, trailed off. The doctor, his scrubs soaked in blood, lowered his head. He administered painkillers to Celine, who lay in the hospital bed, and then left with the nurse, as if to offer her her final moments.
Celine looked even more miserable than he imagined. She was dripping with IV fluids and medication, and her face and neck were covered in soaked bandages. Beneath the bandages wrapped around her head, her small face was riddled with burns and wounds. The lieutenant colonel sighed softly as he pulled back the blanket. Bandages were thickly wrapped beneath her hospital gown, and her once-beautiful fingers, visible through the bandages, were disfigured by burns and covered in blood.
“I’m here.”
He called her again, pressing harder, as he remembered that she might not be able to hear well because her eardrums were damaged.
“Celine.”
She flinched at Jeffrey's voice and lifted her head with difficulty. Her small, usually sparkling lips were now black and dry.
“I can’t get up.”
Celine's voice was awkwardly strained. She tried to raise her upper body, but quickly gave up and let out a ragged breath. Her cracked voice wavered like a fading candle.
“Please lie down.”
“Where are you?”
There was no movement in her eyes, which had turned cloudy as if not even a sliver of light was entering them, but Celine was desperately trying to look at him.
“Yes, ma’am. Here it is.”
“I can’t hear well. I think I hurt my eardrum. Am I ugly?”
Lieutenant Colonel Groenendaal took a step closer to her, bent down, and spoke close to her ear.
“No. Are you in a lot of pain?”
"My whole body aches, and I feel dark. I can't hear properly, and I can't see you. This might be the last time."
Celine finally let out a sob. Each breath was a gasp, a crackling sound like a hole being punctured in her lungs, mixed with a groan.
“If you receive treatment, you will be able to be discharged soon.”
“Yes, even though I look so pathetic, I still don’t want to die.”
“Don’t worry, ma’am. You’re still beautiful.”
Celine's head turned towards Lieutenant Colonel Groenendaal, her expression slightly surprised at hearing this for the first time.
“Did you think I was pretty?”
“Yes. I always thought so.”
“You didn’t love me, did you?”
He didn't answer. But unlike before, when he'd conveyed a firm, unspoken meaning, he seemed to be struggling with what to say. The prolonged silence made Celine giggle like a child.
"I know, being loved unconditionally just because you're pretty is a fairy tale. But please, at least tell me a lie."
“I’m sorry, ma’am.”
“I hope you're happy. Keep going and living wonderfully, just like you have been doing so far.”
“Don’t talk too much, it’s hard...”
The lieutenant colonel paused. He saw her labored breathing becoming increasingly labored. Celine reached out her hand toward him, trying to call a doctor. He carefully took her hand, which was panting in pain.
“I should go to sleep now.”
“I will be by your side.”
"Jeffrey, thank you for listening to my stubbornness. If there's a next life..."
Black blood poured from Celine's mouth. She writhes in pain, barely able to speak.
“Then, let’s not meet.”
Lieutenant Colonel Groenendaal's voice slowly grew smaller, and he leaned down, bringing his face closer to hers, to hear her voice. The faint sound, mixed with her final breaths, was a message to him and the admiral.
“I will do that.”
Only then did the corners of her mouth curve gently. The hazy eyes staring at him remained open.
Celine's body, which had been heaving like a storm, became calm and still. As she finally stopped moving completely with a deep breath, the lieutenant colonel's fingers twitched as he held her hand. He stared at Celine's empty, desolate eyes, staring at him for the last time.
The woman who lived her life by blocking her eyes and ears, watching only what was advantageous to her, eventually went blind, her eardrums were damaged, and she passed away lonely, unable to see the face of her beloved one for the last time or hear his voice properly.
“Miss Celine?”
Urgent footsteps echoed from the hallway. Janet, who had just arrived from Belford and was standing at the entrance to the hospital room, immediately realized what was happening and ran over, clinging to the bed as if she was about to collapse, screaming.
“You’re too young to die, poor baby! Celine!”
Janet's shoulders trembled with grief and sorrow as she clasped her bandaged hands and buried her head. Even though she wasn't her biological child, she considered her daughter. The woman, having experienced the tragedy of losing another daughter, felt a pallor in her face. Her eyes, once filled with tears, gradually dried, and she began to glare at Lieutenant Colonel Groenendaal with murderous intent.
"She loved you even though she wasn't loved back. And yet, when she heard you were in danger, she went to rescue you and got caught in the bombing."
“I know, Mrs. Evergreen.”
“If you had just looked into her heart for once...”
Janet stopped talking, her throat suddenly choked up, and she took a deep breath to catch her breath.
"I can't forgive you. Not Winston Clare, not your mother, not you, not Diana, not the Duke of Rotsilt. If it weren't for you, she wouldn't have died a miserable death..."
“But Miss Diana...”
"Yes. Perhaps she was a much more pitiful child. But she couldn't be more pitiful than a dead child. I asked that couple for help countless times. But she ignored Celine's first offer of help, trying to hide the fact that she was a Princess. And so, in the end!"
"Actually, it's all your fault." Janet's eyes, filled with hatred, were fixed entirely on Lieutenant Colonel Groenendaal. The Colonel made no effort to correct Janet, who muttered like a man completely out of his mind, pouring out accusations, lamentations, and resentments.
"So you were Colonel Rotsilt's spy? So, you intend to reveal the truth?"
“If that’s the case, are you planning to kill me?”
“No. Do as you wish.”
It was something that would one day be revealed, a sin he had to bear. The white curtains by the hospital room window were slowly fluttering in the breeze. The sky outside, mingling with the warm hues of sunset, was a beautiful sight, completely incongruous with the war. The lieutenant colonel let out a deep sigh and turned his head to look up at the bare white ceiling.
“I don’t know anymore. What’s the right thing to do?”
A nurse came in with news that Admiral Claire would be arriving shortly. The lieutenant colonel offered heartfelt advice to Janet, who was sobbing and nearly unconscious.
“You should leave now. The Admiral has probably already figured out that you’re a spy.”
"What are you going to do? Like your brother, who fled to a neutral country out of fear of being blamed, will you flee to Medea and use your distinguished lineage to persuade Diana to pardon your crimes?"
"I will protect my father and fulfill my duty as a soldier. I will pay the price."
At the lieutenant colonel's resigned voice, Janet's anger and momentum began to fade. It seemed as if only black ash remained. He removed the watch from his wrist and handed it to her along with some money. Janet slowly rose. She buried Celine, who lay flat on the hospital bed, in her heart and left the room without a word.
Janet left the hospital, hugging her entire body with both arms, and walked aimlessly. The sun was setting. The red edges of the sunset draped over the buildings and mountain ridges, its remaining light casting a shadow over the path she walked. She couldn't help but shiver as she remembered Celine, writhing in the flames.
"Nanny, will you write a book where I'm the main character and live happily ever after? A story where a handsome Prince comes to rescue me?"
The girl's clear voice and beautiful, pale face vividly floated before her eyes, then gradually faded away. The end was a profound sense of loss and loneliness.
Celine's perfect happiness. This was only possible if Diana were not present. Janet stopped walking and looked down at the yellow evening primroses blooming by the roadside.
"My father once told me the legend of the evening primrose. It's about a flower that waits for its love until the very moment of its death. I don't like sad stories like that. I like sweet stories."
The story of Celine, who wanted to be loved by everyone and lived such a short life, was written down in a book by someone who hoped that she would live a long and happy life.
Admiral Claire, who entered the sickroom, stood there blankly, looking down at Celine.
“Celine.”
He tried calling out softly, holding her still warm hand, and stroking her cheek, but it was no use.
"Dad."
He recalled Celine, who had called him with a beautiful smile like warm sunlight. The smile of a newborn, the smile of a child, the beautiful smile she had turned around to look back as she let go of his hand as he escorted her on her wedding day. All of this had become the past of the deceased. He watched in vain as the future of his daughter, whom he had hoped would live happily, faded away.
The lieutenant colonel stepped back and watched the woman's final moments. The father, who had lost his child, stood there for a long time, unable to accept the tragic death of his beloved daughter.
“Let me hear her last will and testament.”
Finally, the admiral, having admitted all despair, asked in a pitifully broken voice. His voice was low and composed, but it also sounded like a sob or a scream.
“I see.”
The admiral pulled out his pistol and held it out to the lieutenant colonel. He bit his lip hard, trying to hide his expression, but the hand holding the pistol couldn't hide its trembling.
"An officer's pistol is for suicide. Lieutenant Colonel Jeffrey Groenendaal, shoot me."
The lieutenant colonel's blue eyes, fixed squarely on the grip of the pistol in the admiral's hand, gradually grew dull. If losing someone precious and living, if this were the price for the admiral's sins, then... Slowly lifting his drooping eyelids, lost in thought, the lieutenant colonel answered with a determined expression.
"Please, follow her will. All of this is the price you must pay for your sins, and death cannot provide comfort. As per her will, please save Diana, your only remaining daughter. My role ends here."
The lieutenant colonel brushed past him, leaving a final word of advice in a stern tone, and left the room. The admiral simply stood there, as if attending a funeral, beside his daughter, who had completely departed. His face, pale and ashen with profound pain and loss, looked nothing like the face of a living person.
“My Princess, did you leave without saying goodbye because you hated your father?”
Even time seemed to have stopped. Tears of loss and regret welled up in his blue eyes as he gazed at his daughter's face, disfigured by the burns. Outside, a blood-red sunset was setting. The distant bells of the bell tower rang out, lingering with an unusually long, mournful note.
Janet stowed away from the port of Cainsoe straight to Medea. She contacted a major Medea press agency and revealed all the secrets, including the truth about Diana's true identity as Princess and the crimes of the Admiral and Duchess Groenendaal. Since the press could not publish articles without verifying the facts during wartime, they first relayed the information to the royal family. As proof, Janet presented the royal family with a memorandum, which she had retrieved from the Admiral's safe and had written to the Admiral by the Duchess Groenendaal to protect her two sons.
The lieutenant colonel, who had taken refuge in the embassy's underground bunker, was about to return to Belford when he received an urgent telegram from the admiral. His blue eyes widened as he heard the news that Celine might have been caught up in the city's air raid.
“Why Celine...”
He stood there, dazed, for a long time. Barely regaining consciousness, he relayed instructions through a radio operator to the Belford garrison to find Celine Claire, the admiral's daughter. With the cooperation of the Cain Corps, local soldiers were also deployed and began a search for her.
He was advised to return to Belford quickly due to the risk of a second air raid by his father, the Prime Minister, but he replied that he would return after finding his wife, Admiral Claire's daughter.
Because the casualties were so numerous, it took a full day for the damaged vehicle to be discovered and Celine's whereabouts to be traced. Upon hearing that she was fortunately alive, but in critical condition, at the military hospital, the lieutenant colonel sighed, wiping his face as if washing his face.
***
When Lieutenant Colonel Groenendaal arrived at the hospital with his interpreter, the patient was already in surgery, so he had to wait in the waiting room for several hours. The hospital was in chaos, with patients dying in horrific conditions, caught in the bombing, and people rushing in, begging for help.
“Lieutenant Colonel Groenendaal, I hear the surgery is complete.”
The doctor, emerging from a lengthy operation, wiped away the sweat and turned to the lieutenant colonel with a sorrowful expression. The interpreter standing next to him interpreted his words.
"They say your wife doesn't look like she'll make it through the day. Her legs were amputated, along with burns all over her body. She was crushed by the collapsing debris, suffering a cerebral hemorrhage and extensive organ damage. With sepsis also developing, they determined her body wouldn't be able to hold on, so all they could do was stop the bleeding and remove the shrapnel. It's a miracle she's still alive..."
The interpreter, his face aching with pain, trailed off. The doctor, his scrubs soaked in blood, lowered his head. He administered painkillers to Celine, who lay in the hospital bed, and then left with the nurse, as if to offer her her final moments.
Celine looked even more miserable than he imagined. She was dripping with IV fluids and medication, and her face and neck were covered in soaked bandages. Beneath the bandages wrapped around her head, her small face was riddled with burns and wounds. The lieutenant colonel sighed softly as he pulled back the blanket. Bandages were thickly wrapped beneath her hospital gown, and her once-beautiful fingers, visible through the bandages, were disfigured by burns and covered in blood.
“I’m here.”
He called her again, pressing harder, as he remembered that she might not be able to hear well because her eardrums were damaged.
“Celine.”
She flinched at Jeffrey's voice and lifted her head with difficulty. Her small, usually sparkling lips were now black and dry.
“I can’t get up.”
Celine's voice was awkwardly strained. She tried to raise her upper body, but quickly gave up and let out a ragged breath. Her cracked voice wavered like a fading candle.
“Please lie down.”
“Where are you?”
There was no movement in her eyes, which had turned cloudy as if not even a sliver of light was entering them, but Celine was desperately trying to look at him.
“Yes, ma’am. Here it is.”
“I can’t hear well. I think I hurt my eardrum. Am I ugly?”
Lieutenant Colonel Groenendaal took a step closer to her, bent down, and spoke close to her ear.
“No. Are you in a lot of pain?”
"My whole body aches, and I feel dark. I can't hear properly, and I can't see you. This might be the last time."
Celine finally let out a sob. Each breath was a gasp, a crackling sound like a hole being punctured in her lungs, mixed with a groan.
“If you receive treatment, you will be able to be discharged soon.”
“Yes, even though I look so pathetic, I still don’t want to die.”
“Don’t worry, ma’am. You’re still beautiful.”
Celine's head turned towards Lieutenant Colonel Groenendaal, her expression slightly surprised at hearing this for the first time.
“Did you think I was pretty?”
“Yes. I always thought so.”
“You didn’t love me, did you?”
He didn't answer. But unlike before, when he'd conveyed a firm, unspoken meaning, he seemed to be struggling with what to say. The prolonged silence made Celine giggle like a child.
"I know, being loved unconditionally just because you're pretty is a fairy tale. But please, at least tell me a lie."
“I’m sorry, ma’am.”
“I hope you're happy. Keep going and living wonderfully, just like you have been doing so far.”
“Don’t talk too much, it’s hard...”
The lieutenant colonel paused. He saw her labored breathing becoming increasingly labored. Celine reached out her hand toward him, trying to call a doctor. He carefully took her hand, which was panting in pain.
“I should go to sleep now.”
“I will be by your side.”
"Jeffrey, thank you for listening to my stubbornness. If there's a next life..."
Black blood poured from Celine's mouth. She writhes in pain, barely able to speak.
“Then, let’s not meet.”
Lieutenant Colonel Groenendaal's voice slowly grew smaller, and he leaned down, bringing his face closer to hers, to hear her voice. The faint sound, mixed with her final breaths, was a message to him and the admiral.
“I will do that.”
Only then did the corners of her mouth curve gently. The hazy eyes staring at him remained open.
Celine's body, which had been heaving like a storm, became calm and still. As she finally stopped moving completely with a deep breath, the lieutenant colonel's fingers twitched as he held her hand. He stared at Celine's empty, desolate eyes, staring at him for the last time.
The woman who lived her life by blocking her eyes and ears, watching only what was advantageous to her, eventually went blind, her eardrums were damaged, and she passed away lonely, unable to see the face of her beloved one for the last time or hear his voice properly.
“Miss Celine?”
Urgent footsteps echoed from the hallway. Janet, who had just arrived from Belford and was standing at the entrance to the hospital room, immediately realized what was happening and ran over, clinging to the bed as if she was about to collapse, screaming.
“You’re too young to die, poor baby! Celine!”
Janet's shoulders trembled with grief and sorrow as she clasped her bandaged hands and buried her head. Even though she wasn't her biological child, she considered her daughter. The woman, having experienced the tragedy of losing another daughter, felt a pallor in her face. Her eyes, once filled with tears, gradually dried, and she began to glare at Lieutenant Colonel Groenendaal with murderous intent.
"She loved you even though she wasn't loved back. And yet, when she heard you were in danger, she went to rescue you and got caught in the bombing."
“I know, Mrs. Evergreen.”
“If you had just looked into her heart for once...”
Janet stopped talking, her throat suddenly choked up, and she took a deep breath to catch her breath.
"I can't forgive you. Not Winston Clare, not your mother, not you, not Diana, not the Duke of Rotsilt. If it weren't for you, she wouldn't have died a miserable death..."
“But Miss Diana...”
"Yes. Perhaps she was a much more pitiful child. But she couldn't be more pitiful than a dead child. I asked that couple for help countless times. But she ignored Celine's first offer of help, trying to hide the fact that she was a Princess. And so, in the end!"
"Actually, it's all your fault." Janet's eyes, filled with hatred, were fixed entirely on Lieutenant Colonel Groenendaal. The Colonel made no effort to correct Janet, who muttered like a man completely out of his mind, pouring out accusations, lamentations, and resentments.
"So you were Colonel Rotsilt's spy? So, you intend to reveal the truth?"
“If that’s the case, are you planning to kill me?”
“No. Do as you wish.”
It was something that would one day be revealed, a sin he had to bear. The white curtains by the hospital room window were slowly fluttering in the breeze. The sky outside, mingling with the warm hues of sunset, was a beautiful sight, completely incongruous with the war. The lieutenant colonel let out a deep sigh and turned his head to look up at the bare white ceiling.
“I don’t know anymore. What’s the right thing to do?”
A nurse came in with news that Admiral Claire would be arriving shortly. The lieutenant colonel offered heartfelt advice to Janet, who was sobbing and nearly unconscious.
“You should leave now. The Admiral has probably already figured out that you’re a spy.”
"What are you going to do? Like your brother, who fled to a neutral country out of fear of being blamed, will you flee to Medea and use your distinguished lineage to persuade Diana to pardon your crimes?"
"I will protect my father and fulfill my duty as a soldier. I will pay the price."
At the lieutenant colonel's resigned voice, Janet's anger and momentum began to fade. It seemed as if only black ash remained. He removed the watch from his wrist and handed it to her along with some money. Janet slowly rose. She buried Celine, who lay flat on the hospital bed, in her heart and left the room without a word.
Janet left the hospital, hugging her entire body with both arms, and walked aimlessly. The sun was setting. The red edges of the sunset draped over the buildings and mountain ridges, its remaining light casting a shadow over the path she walked. She couldn't help but shiver as she remembered Celine, writhing in the flames.
"Nanny, will you write a book where I'm the main character and live happily ever after? A story where a handsome Prince comes to rescue me?"
The girl's clear voice and beautiful, pale face vividly floated before her eyes, then gradually faded away. The end was a profound sense of loss and loneliness.
Celine's perfect happiness. This was only possible if Diana were not present. Janet stopped walking and looked down at the yellow evening primroses blooming by the roadside.
"My father once told me the legend of the evening primrose. It's about a flower that waits for its love until the very moment of its death. I don't like sad stories like that. I like sweet stories."
The story of Celine, who wanted to be loved by everyone and lived such a short life, was written down in a book by someone who hoped that she would live a long and happy life.
***
Admiral Claire, who entered the sickroom, stood there blankly, looking down at Celine.
“Celine.”
He tried calling out softly, holding her still warm hand, and stroking her cheek, but it was no use.
"Dad."
He recalled Celine, who had called him with a beautiful smile like warm sunlight. The smile of a newborn, the smile of a child, the beautiful smile she had turned around to look back as she let go of his hand as he escorted her on her wedding day. All of this had become the past of the deceased. He watched in vain as the future of his daughter, whom he had hoped would live happily, faded away.
The lieutenant colonel stepped back and watched the woman's final moments. The father, who had lost his child, stood there for a long time, unable to accept the tragic death of his beloved daughter.
“Let me hear her last will and testament.”
Finally, the admiral, having admitted all despair, asked in a pitifully broken voice. His voice was low and composed, but it also sounded like a sob or a scream.
"I couldn't bring myself to tell her to forgive her father, but she did ask me to give you the chance to repent and seek forgiveness."
The admiral pulled out his pistol and held it out to the lieutenant colonel. He bit his lip hard, trying to hide his expression, but the hand holding the pistol couldn't hide its trembling.
"An officer's pistol is for suicide. Lieutenant Colonel Jeffrey Groenendaal, shoot me."
The lieutenant colonel's blue eyes, fixed squarely on the grip of the pistol in the admiral's hand, gradually grew dull. If losing someone precious and living, if this were the price for the admiral's sins, then... Slowly lifting his drooping eyelids, lost in thought, the lieutenant colonel answered with a determined expression.
"Please, follow her will. All of this is the price you must pay for your sins, and death cannot provide comfort. As per her will, please save Diana, your only remaining daughter. My role ends here."
The lieutenant colonel brushed past him, leaving a final word of advice in a stern tone, and left the room. The admiral simply stood there, as if attending a funeral, beside his daughter, who had completely departed. His face, pale and ashen with profound pain and loss, looked nothing like the face of a living person.
“My Princess, did you leave without saying goodbye because you hated your father?”
Even time seemed to have stopped. Tears of loss and regret welled up in his blue eyes as he gazed at his daughter's face, disfigured by the burns. Outside, a blood-red sunset was setting. The distant bells of the bell tower rang out, lingering with an unusually long, mournful note.
Janet stowed away from the port of Cainsoe straight to Medea. She contacted a major Medea press agency and revealed all the secrets, including the truth about Diana's true identity as Princess and the crimes of the Admiral and Duchess Groenendaal. Since the press could not publish articles without verifying the facts during wartime, they first relayed the information to the royal family. As proof, Janet presented the royal family with a memorandum, which she had retrieved from the Admiral's safe and had written to the Admiral by the Duchess Groenendaal to protect her two sons.
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