Misfortune 134

Chapter 134

****

One day, Dalos soldiers entered the cell and placed a black hood over Roan's head.

Are they finally going to hang me? Roan thought faintly in his dazed consciousness.

He barely managed to think, No, it can't be yet, just as the hand hanging from the ceiling like meat in a butcher shop fell downward.

Come to think of it, the relentless beatings had ceased at some point. It likely meant a hostage exchange was imminent.

The Dalos soldiers, lost in dreams that would never come true, violently yanked the iron chain attached to his shackles. Roan offered no resistance and obediently followed them out.

As he climbed the stairs, nearly stumbling, a faint glow flickered beyond the black curtain. Unlike the still-chilly air, the sun blazed hotly overhead.

Roan walked silently through the dazzling darkness. The scent of the sea grew stronger, and suddenly, the floor beneath his feet began to sway. He must have boarded a ship.

After walking briefly on the deck swaying with the waves, the floor gave way beneath him again. He endured the rough hand pressing down on the back of his head as he descended the stairs. The musty stench of mold and rotting wood assaulted his nostrils.

"This should be about right."

The hands supporting him released, and his cuffed hands were pulled upward again. The clanking of metal scraping against metal scratched unpleasantly at his eardrums.

Finally, the hood obscuring his vision was removed. Just as the blinding light made Roan squint,

"Hey! I can't properly examine the wound if you keep him like that!"

Someone chirped out their complaint. Judging by his slight build and the nature of his grievance, he seemed to be a medic from Dalos.

"That's for the esteemed doctor to decide."

The soldier who had dragged Roan here responded indifferently, picking his ear. Then, he calmly walked past the doctor, who stood gaping in astonishment, and climbed the stairs.

"Ha... That's why pirate scum..."

Once the soldiers had completely left, the doctor belatedly spat out a curse.

Grumbling, he diligently spread his medical bag on the floor. He fumbled for disinfectant and gauze, then glanced at Roan with a wary look.

"Uh... Do you understand Dalos?"

Instead of answering, Roan stared blankly at the man fidgeting nervously. While he could manage everyday conversation, he had no desire to engage in communication with the enemy.

Faced with that unmistakable gaze, the military doctor cleared his throat instead of waiting for an answer, trying to lighten the mood.

"Ahem, ahem. You'll be released soon. The hostage negotiations with Brunois should be wrapping up shortly."

"..."

"So behave yourself? I'm not attacking you—I'm trying to fix you."

In other words, they were belatedly embarrassed about handing over a hostage in such a mangled state and were trying to salvage things a little.

While his comrades would never witness this pitiful sight, Roan obediently closed his eyes and played along with this not-even-funny charade.

"Shall I begin then?"

Reading the unspoken consent, the doctor cautiously approached Roan from behind.

After a moment of rustling sounds, a cold liquid poured over his back. It was hard to tell if the shudder that made his toes curl was from the chill or the pain.

"Damn, they really tore you apart. Expecting me to make this look normal? That's ridiculous."

The doctor clicked his tongue as he slathered antiseptic over the broad expanse of Roan's back.

Dalos hadn't even attempted to torture Roan Barthez. They had judged him impossible to break.

Thus, the captured Roan Barthez became a target for venting frustration. This horrific state was the result.

But now, even that venting had waned. Everyone just wanted to dump this enemy into Brunois and hurry home.

The pirates and others with little to lose looked disappointed they couldn't tear him limb from limb.

"Huh? What's this?"

Just then, the doctor wiping the dried blood crust from Roan's waist discovered something and blurted it out unconsciously.

Realizing his mistake a beat too late, he swiftly snatched whatever he'd found and backed away.

Only after the doctor had retreated did Roan slowly turn his head. His gaze was irritated, as if watching a pesky rat scurrying at his feet.

Infuriated by that look of utter disdain, the doctor unconsciously clenched his fist. Recognizing the crumpled paper in that hand, Roan subtly furrowed his brow.

It was Lena's letter, delivered by Kais just before departure. He'd forgotten it tucked in his pocket while busy preparing for the operation.

"I suppose I should check it. It might contain Brunois’s military secrets."

The military doctor muttered aloud, almost provocatively, then tore open the envelope right in front of Roan.

"Hmm. My dea... dear... does this mean... proud...? Proud... brother?"

Roan stared indifferently at the man stumbling over the Imperial language like a child just learning to read.

There was no way a family letter could contain anything earth-shattering. As always, it would likely express concern for his well-being and urge him to take care of himself.

It wasn't the game-changing revelation the military doctor had hoped for, but it did succeed in stirring up a faint guilt he'd long forgotten.

Shamefully, Roan hoped Lena wouldn't be too shocked. He hoped she could quickly shake off the memory of a brother who hadn't protected her. Sending the letter in advance, as if it were a suicide note, had also stemmed from that same sentiment.

"Ugh. Fine, fine. What's the point now?"

Whether realizing there was little of substance or failing to decipher the brief Imperial language, the doctor flicked the letter onto the floor. Judging by how he watched Roan's reaction more closely than the letter itself, it was probably the latter.

Then, licking his lips for no reason, he rummaged through the envelope he still held in his other hand.

"Huh? What's this?"

The military doctor reached inside the envelope and pulled out another one, smaller and thinner than the first.

Until then, Roan had only watched silently. Perhaps speculating that Milan had intended to report through Lena.

It was the moment the military doctor, equally unimpressed, carelessly tore open the letter envelope with a half-hearted gesture.

"Huh?"

The force of the opening caused something inside the envelope to fall out into the air. It drew a delicate, fluttering dance line, utterly out of place in this filthy, unclean mud.

"………………A flower?"

The military doctor, who had been staring blankly until the feather-like thing settled softly on the floor, murmured without realizing it.

A withered stem bore sparse, crumbling blue-violet petals. An unnamed pressed flower.

His gaze was captured by this alien presence, so out of place on the battlefield. Suddenly, the clanking of chains echoed like thunder through the cramped room.

"Wh-what is it?"

The startled military doctor turned his head toward the sound. He gaped in shock at the sight of Roan Barthez, who had been quiet all along, now thrashing wildly like a trapped animal.

"Why, why are you doing this all of a sudden?"

The frightened military doctor stumbled backward, retreating. The pressed flower crushed beneath his boot shattered into pieces, mingling with the filth on the floor.

That long-ago boy, who had to pretend not to know the girl he loved, had secretly planted it in place of his own heart. And only at the very last moment, along with his sole wish, had he returned it to her.

That Belfort anemone.

"Oh, don't come near me!"

Roan charged at the doctor like a bull with horns. Had the chains not held him back with such force they threatened to sever his wrists, the doctor would have been knocked down and sprawled pitifully on the floor.

His eyes, bloodshot as if weeping tears of blood, were fixed on the doctor—more precisely, on the letter clutched in his hand.

"You... you madman..."

Terrified by the sight of this wild beast consumed by madness, the doctor frantically rummaged through his medical bag. He pulled something out and hurled it straight at Roan's shoulder.

A stinging pain followed by hot blood surged back. The doctor, flung by an even more violent thrashing, rolled across the filthy floor.

"Damn it, you crazy bastard!"

The doctor spat out a coarse curse, brushing dust from his clothes.

Meanwhile, Roan's rampage gradually began to subside. The strength seemed to drain from his limbs, and soon he could barely support himself on his feet.

Roan bit down on his tongue, trying desperately to stay conscious. But it was futile.

"Judging by the commotion, this can't be just any ordinary letter."

The deluded voice grew fainter and fainter. Soon, familiar darkness extinguished his consciousness.

***

"Damn it, I'm getting discharged the moment I set foot on land."

Gritting his teeth, the military doctor entered the private room. He was on his way back from reporting the suspicious letter collected from Roan Barthez.

He detailed every disturbance the man had caused, but the higher-ups were indifferent. They seemed to think it was just a simple letter of condolence and questioned why it warranted any effort.

It was a bit deflating, but they weren't entirely wrong. Even if they uncovered Brunois’s secrets now, it wouldn't change the outcome of a battle already decided.

The army, its morale shattered beyond repair, was now solely fixated on finding a way to escape this disorganized battlefield as quickly as possible.

The military doctor's position wasn't much different, so he didn't insist on further investigation of the letter.

There was just one problem.