Chapter 1
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A passenger ship heading north from the southernmost part of the Wesden Empire.
Once a luxurious cruise ship, converted to a warship during the war, and once again a passenger ship after the war ended, the ship was crowded with people returning home.
The aftermath of the war was still fresh, so their clothes were ragged, but their faces were bright. Even their thin cheeks and wrinkled foreheads glowed with hope for a brighter future.
So was Charlotte, barely an adult but with rosy cheeks and girlish features. The mark the war had left on her life was brutal, but she had a bright future ahead of her, not one to be dimmed by horrific memories.
Besides, Charlotte was an untarnished soul who could be delighted by a warm bowl of potato soup. At least, she did when she was eighteen.
"Wow, that's delicious. It's hot."
She salivated as she cooled the potato soup with croutons and cheese. It was her first meal after a day of severe seasickness.
Half a day earlier, everyone on board had been busy clutching the railing to keep their stomachs in check. Now they were huddled together, sharing good news.
The story of Duke Christian Eponhardt, who had just stopped at a harbor near the capital city of Iberia, dominated the conversation.
"Did you read the papers? In three days, Duke Christian Eponhardt will be knighted as a Grand Duke for his war service."
"Slaughtered in a pile of corpses, war hero for ending the twelve-year war that swept across the continent of Ardarea. That's one hell of a headline."
"It's fitting, for he reduced Daltheum to ashes and three kingdoms to submission."
"And he did it at the age of twenty. Doesn't that compare to His Highness the Crown Prince, who was shot and crippled in a single battle?"
"I mean, what does the Duke look like? The newspapers only showed the back of his head, so I have no way of knowing."
Just then, a large man pushed his way through the crowd of giggling girls and entered the dining room.
At first glance, he was a handsome young man, but his fierce expression and shabby clothes did not allow his beauty to shine through.
Thud-!
"Ack!"
The girl who had been bumped by the man's broad shoulder limped back. She wanted to shout at him to apologize, but his huge bulk made it difficult.
‘What's all the fuss about?’
Charlotte looked up from her potato soup to the entrance of the dining room. A man a head taller than everyone else and twice as broad in the shoulders was scanning the dining room as if searching for a lost child.
Food spilled and utensils smashed wherever he passed. At first, she wondered if he was drunk, but he didn't seem to be.
His face was so calm, and his movements were as methodical as those of a well-trained soldier on a mission.
The man's steps moved further and further into the room, a distance that even Charlotte, seated farthest from the entrance, was unsure of.
Charlotte remained frozen in her seat, startled by the sudden commotion. She watched the scene from the corner of her eye. For some reason, the man was moving toward her.
‘Is he really coming this way?’
As she stiffened to avoid an unpleasant situation, Charlotte's eyes met his.
"....!"
The black bullet-like eyes sparkled as if they had found their target.
Charlotte reflexively sucked in a sharp intake of breath as if she had been found. She felt like a deer hiding from a wolf.
She kept her head down and pretended not to see him. As she stirred the potato soup with as much nonchalance as she could muster, a dark shadow fell across the table.
‘No, no, no.’
Charlotte swallowed dryly and craned her slender neck. Unfortunately, her premonitions were always right.
'..................ugh.’
Sure enough, the owner of the disturbance was sitting across from her.
And he was looking very grim.
‘Who is this guy?’
Charlotte's glassy blue eyes swayed up and down, glistening like a sea of glitter.
They were the clear, lake-like eyes of the Northerners, a color not often found in the Wesden Empire.
Confusion flooded Charlotte's mind at the baffling situation. Why was he sitting here, why was he staring at her without saying a word? All sorts of thoughts rolled off her tongue.
She was stirring the potato soup when her wrist, which had been moving inertly, snapped.
Chaaaahhhh.
The white soup sailed through the air and landed on the raggedy man's clothes. Instead of an apology, a hiccup escaped Charlotte's startled mouth.
"Hic!"
Charlotte clamped her right hand over her mouth and stared in disbelief at the thick soup dripping down the man's chest. But the man seemed oblivious to what had been splashed on him.
Charlotte bit her lip hard and offered the man an apology.
"I'm sorry. Here, take this."
She pulled out a lacy white handkerchief and held it out to him. But he just stared at the handkerchief.
‘Why won't he take it?’
A strange confrontation ensued. Frustrated, Charlotte made the first move.
Her sleek fingertips reached forward curiously, and she leaned over slightly to wipe the soup off the faded fabric.
Swoosh, swoosh, the man's body twitched under her gentle touch. Beneath his perfectly toned muscles, the beating heart made its presence felt.
It thumped so loudly that it could be heard outside.
‘Do big men have big hearts?’
Charlotte wondered, and pulled up her potato soup-soaked handkerchief. There were still marks on it, but they would be gone in a wash.
"It's all gone now, I'm sorry, I'll get up now."
As she was about to take advantage of the opportunity and leave, the man asked her a question. His voice was very deep and low.
"Where have we met before?"
"....?"
Charlotte's head snapped around. It was a flirtatious comment, but it didn't sound like one.
‘Do I know him? I thought he was looking for someone earlier. Could it be me?’
She took a closer look at the stranger with a serious expression. His handsome features, hidden by his frightening appearance, were now clearly visible.
His forehead, sharply defined beneath his short black hair, the bridge of his nose, and his gracefully angled jawline were inhumanly perfect, as if carved by a sharp knife.
On the other hand, his eyes, set seductively beneath deep-set sockets, and full lips were mesmerizing, like a painting with a hundred stories to tell.
‘I've never seen anyone like him.’
Charlotte was certain she had never met this man before. There was no way she could close her eyes and not recognize his face.
"I don't think we've met?"
"Then what is this smell?"
"Nothing, what smell?"
"Freesia. Freesia flowers.”
A floral scent, all of a sudden.
Charlotte sniffed her body, puzzled. Her unperfumed hair didn't smell like anything, let alone flowers.
‘What, are you actually hitting on me, with that expression?’
Usually when men hit on women, they come up to them with a big smile on their face and say the sweetest things.
"You smell like flowers" was part of the repertoire, but no matter how she looked at it, she didn't think the man in front of her was hitting on her.
His eyes were serious and desperate, without a hint of falsehood.
‘Why is he doing this? Is he sick?’
The war had just ended, and there were so many patients suffering from the after-effects that they could be in the same house across the street.
Especially those who had lost loved ones and suffered from visions and auditory hallucinations were as common as kicks. So it wasn't strange to see someone suffering from the aftereffects.
At this point, Charlotte's wariness of the man slipped a little, for he seemed like someone who was desperately searching for someone he had lost.
'Then maybe he's not strange, maybe he's just sick.’
Charlotte tried to use her compassionate nature to try and understand the man; he didn't seem so scary now that she thought about it.
She smiled sheepishly and replied to the man.
"I'm sorry, I don't think I'm the one you're looking for, but let me get up first."
But the suspicious man didn't let go of Charlotte so easily.
"What's your name?"
***
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