MDBCD 01

chapter 01

I swear before God that I will uphold the following vow.

Ibel pressed down hard on the patient’s abdomen.

Even so, she couldn’t completely stop the blood from seeping out.

‘But if I don’t do at least this, he’ll die soon.’

Most soldiers abandoned by their units were destined to have the flesh around their bullet wounds rot away, eventually dying from infection.

Even so, Ibel busied herself, determined to save even one more life if she could.

“Doctor!!! Doctor!!!”

The metallic smell of blood mixed with the stench of gunpowder, making her stomach churn.

If there was any silver lining, it was that she hadn’t eaten anything—so there was nothing to throw up.

“Bring the patient here!”

“Gunshot wound!”

“Stop talking and lay him down first.”

No matter how hard Ibel worked, the injured kept piling up. Most had external wounds, which meant they needed a skilled surgeon.

The problem was, Ibel was an internist, and it hadn’t been long since she’d learned how to cut and stitch human bodies. Well… she had at least learned how to remove bullets from horrifying wounds.

Maybe it was fortunate that the senior military doctor had died after teaching her that much.

Thinking indifferently, she picked up the blade with an expressionless face.

“Brazier.”

“Yes!”

Even in the middle of war, even in a makeshift barracks rather than a proper field hospital, Ibel kept what standards she could.

Instead of searching for antiseptics or anesthetics that didn’t exist, she ordered her assistant to heat the blade over fire and poured strong, cheap alcohol into the wound.

In truth, even those supplies had been cut off recently, so she wouldn’t be able to use them starting tomorrow—but her goal was simple: save whoever could still be saved.

“Hold the patient tight. I’m removing the bullet now.”

“Yes, understood.”

The assistant, who had seen the procedure several times, had gone pale but remained steadfast. Without even blinking, Ibel cut into the flesh as quickly as possible.

“A… Abel… please, gently….”

“Shh.”

Cold sweat beaded on her forehead.

As she dug into the wound, the blond officer groaned in pain, but Ibel—called Abel—paid him no mind.

She didn’t have the luxury to respond to every plea.

Clink!

The piece of metal she pulled out dropped into a metal container.

Under normal circumstances, it would be absurd for an internist to perform surgery. But now… there was no one in this unit more skilled than Ibel.

Because everyone else was dead.

If you could afford to be picky, would it even be war? It’d be a playground.

“The treatment’s done. Bind the wound for now. If there’s any alcohol left, give him some. There’s nothing more we can do immediately, so at least ease his pain.”

“Yes…!”

Maybe it was from concentrating too hard. Her vision blurred, and a chill ran through her body from the cold wind.

‘Maybe I’m the one who needs a drink.’

But Ibel never took a single sip.

If she wasn’t there, no one would grind herbs or extract bullets.

There was an assistant, sure—but even that was unreliable…

‘Ah.’

Blink.

She must have dozed off just from sitting briefly on an empty supply crate. A beat later, Ibel realized why she had woken up.

A man who looked like you could stab him with a military knife and not draw a drop of blood was draping his jacket over her shoulders.

He didn’t just toss it over her—he even tied the sleeves to secure it properly. She knew exactly who he was.

“Your Grace, Grand Duke of Bayern.”

“You were shivering.”

“Thank you for your consideration.”

It was warm. Because of the difference in their builds, the jacket felt almost like a blanket. Or maybe it was because it still held his body heat.

Either way, she thanked him—but Victor Bayern only replied curtly as he straightened.

“No need to thank me. It would be troublesome if the only doctor on this front were to die.”

A blunt response, but consideration nonetheless. After all, he had given her his jacket.

Of course, Ibel didn’t interpret his kindness in any other way. A man known as the iron-blooded terror, one whose very name made the Francian army tremble, could hardly be a deviant.

That was right.

In this horrific place, Ibel was completely mistaken for a man.

Naturally, she had no intention of correcting that misunderstanding.

She had stolen her brother’s name to become a doctor and had been conscripted because of it—but she had no desire to go through anything worse than this.

“……”

A meaningless exchange of glances passed in silence.

She herself was quite expressionless, but she couldn’t match the Grand Duke of Bayern.

It was as if something responsible for emotions had broken in him as a child—he was the only man who hadn’t even groaned once when she clumsily removed a bullet lodged in his ribcage.

Still, after nearly a year of rolling around in this hellhole together, she had learned to read even the subtle movements of his eyebrows.

That expression meant: Say whatever you want.

“I’ve sent multiple telegrams, but seeing no reinforcements arrive from the homeland, it seems we’ve truly been abandoned.”

As she spoke calmly of awaiting death, his eyes narrowed slightly.

It was common knowledge—even among street beggars—that the young king of Richter felt inferior to the Grand Duke.

When she had been assigned to this unit, Ibel had already anticipated this situation.

“You don’t seem afraid of death.”

“I wasn’t treated well at home either. Why would I be afraid of dying now?”

“Don’t you feel wronged? Half of this is because of me.”

“I suppose it’s a bit unfair that I worked myself to death to become an internist, only to end up like this. And suddenly being made to perform surgery. The fact that my first operation was on Your Grace… now that I think about it, that feels a bit unfair too.”

In wartime, the chain of command should be absolute. Normally, her sitting casually in front of him and wearing his jacket would both be punishable by death.

But Victor Bayern was more lenient than the grim rumors attached to his name, especially when it came to debts and favors.

Ibel had saved his life three times since that first surgery, and Victor had not forgotten it.

Especially considering that she was a doctor unrelated to the war’s cause or politics, that she was younger than him, and that…

She was even more slender than the youngest officer in the camp—looking like she might break if struck.

All of these factors made Victor overlook the many lines she crossed.

And now that he had been cast aside by the king, it was not unwelcome for him to have at least one person he could speak freely with.

“How many family members did you say you had?”

The man asked in a pleasant voice.

Every time she heard it, she thought the same thing—it was a low voice that seemed to gently brush against one’s chest.

Shaking off the thought, she answered dutifully.

“My parents are both alive, and I have one older brother… who’s rather useless.”

“In what way is he useless?”

As he spoke, his large hand reached out and wiped the dried blood from her cheek.

The hand hesitated briefly, then—like he had made up his mind—he poked her cheek lightly.