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Prologue
The pub was noisy. In a dark corner of the establishment sat a playwright, a stage actor, a classical singer, and a poet. The four artists were engaged in a deep conversation.
Is there such a thing as eternal love? Is humanity truly the most vile animal in the world?
Among them, Chloe—the host of this gathering—listened to her friends before muttering,
“Those embarrassing so-called artists…”
Chloe glanced around at the other patrons and half-covered her face in shame. And for good reason—this was both a gathering meant to console her and a session dedicated to condemning her ex-boyfriend.
Just a few days earlier, Chloe and her friends had caught him cheating red-handed. They had witnessed it all.
The lofty conversation they had begun with was gradually turning more sordid.
“Chloe, I told you from the beginning that guy had a bad vibe.”
One of Chloe’s closest friends, Andrea, clutched his head as if in pain.
Andrea was a leading actor in a famous theater troupe. He had also been the one who, on Chloe’s behalf, punched her ex-boyfriend in the back of the head.
As befits a method actor, even his fingertips carried soul. He knew how to deliver a glancing blow that made the victim feel thoroughly disgusted.
“We should’ve killed him on the spot. I knew something was off about his eyes the first time I saw him.”
“No, Andrea. You literally said he looked refreshing and bold back then.”
“When did I ever say that?”
“You were drunk, sure, but you can’t just make things up.”
Julia intervened, correcting him. She seemed as though she intended to whisper, but as the group’s soprano, her voice carried differently. Julia, who was sometimes even invited to royal courts, had a talent for being heard no matter how softly she spoke.
Drunk patrons at nearby tables kept glancing over at them. The intoxicated, method-acting actor was now crying as he wailed mournfully—his emotional arc shifting without warning.
“I let you all into my life with such sincerity… I knew it would end like this…”
“Andrea. Whether you ‘let us in’ or not has nothing to do with Chloe’s decision. That’s a serious case of self-importance.”
Even Benjamin, the quietest of them all, finally joined in. It was ironic that Benjamin—who was the most cynical of the group—was a poet who only wrote love poems.
Meanwhile, the already submerged-in-his-own-performance actor continued his soliloquy.
“He has eyes on the soles of his feet. Our Chloe may be a bit cold, but she’s amazing… this is all because she judges men by looks.”
“I agree.”
“Well, I can’t deny that.”
Chloe, who had been listening quietly, looked at them in disbelief.
“What?”
If she had only dated him for his face, she shouldn’t have felt this miserable. She shook her head repeatedly.
“That’s absolutely not true.”
Chloe hadn’t chosen him for his face. She simply hadn’t checked his personality either.
At that, the trio suddenly fell silent. Six eyes turned toward her at once. Julia broke the silence again and corrected Chloe as well.
“Chloe.”
“Yes?”
“Honestly… you do look at faces.”
“……”
“You look at them more than anyone here.”
Chloe narrowed her eyes and stared at the three of them. Her previously blank expression turned icy, and the others looked away awkwardly—except Benjamin.
“Chloe, your face right now looks like dried snacks.”
“…I thought this was supposed to be a consolation gathering.”
“……”
“Wow. I’m really grateful.”
“……”
“People who pretend to worry while teasing you are the worst.”
Chloe thought that one day she would leave this chaotic group. If she did, maybe she could finally live a normal life in the sunlight like other people.
But after briefly glancing at them, she let out a small laugh. She raised her vodka glass, clinking it against theirs one by one. After all, listening to her friends was a hundred times better than being locked in a basement studio right now.
Chloe Libertà.
Recently, she had been suffering from an extreme slump.
She was a playwright, mostly writing lyrical musical dramas that felt like fairy tales. She had never been wildly successful, but she had made a modest name for herself—enough, at least, to make a living.
However, after two consecutive stage failures last year, she had been unable to write a single line or note for a long time. To make matters worse, her recent breakup had stirred up even more chaos in her life.
There was another serious issue she hadn’t told her friends about. Her most recent manuscript—painstakingly written—had been stolen.
There was a highly likely suspect. Only her longtime patron and her ex-boyfriend had access to her workspace. But she had chosen to keep it to herself for now.
“If I tell them, they’ll definitely lose control.”
The method actor had more than one way of striking. He could pretend not to hit someone while still hitting them—and even the reverse.
The soprano could make someone’s eardrums bleed just by shouting. And the poet could suddenly strike like a poisoned needle with his words.
If she revealed the truth, it was obvious things would turn bloody, regardless of facts.
“Yeah. It’s all my fault. What more is there to say?”
No matter how low her expectations were, not everyone was the same. There was a reason people said you can meet anyone, but you shouldn’t trust just anyone.
Chloe let out a tired expression, reflecting briefly on her life. She sighed softly—almost inaudible—just as her friends began watching her carefully.
A boy too young to belong in a place like this was looking around anxiously, searching for someone. Benjamin noticed him first and tilted his head before gesturing.
Aside from Chloe, the group all came from wealthy families. The boy worked at Benjamin’s estate—the wealthiest among them.
Benjamin generously handed the boy several silver coins. The others’ eyes then focused on the paper he produced.
When they read the common language written on the yellowed paper, they could only sigh in unison.
“Dawn of the 13th. Armed conflict between the kingdom’s army and the Pitzmark forces at the border region. Both nations declare war.”
The same news was already spreading from table to table. The once lively, indulgent atmosphere quickly filled with murmurs.
Most people were shocked and uneasy, though some seemed resigned, as if it was inevitable.
Neighboring countries sharing a border were rarely on good terms. Moreover, Edelrin and Pitzmark had one of the deepest histories of hostility on the continent. Since their founding, Pitzmark’s name had appeared repeatedly in Edelrin’s major historical incidents.
Meanwhile, Chloe had been staring at the paper for some time. Her expression grew increasingly serious. Noticing this, Andrea leaned in and whispered,
“Chloe, what are you thinking? Your eyes look weird.”
“What?”
“It’s not like your life is over just because your relationship failed…”
“Shut up for a second. Let me think.”
“I feel like now is exactly the time you shouldn’t be thinking…”
But Chloe said nothing after that. A faint light began to return to her pale blue eyes.
She had been stagnant for a long time—so much so that even her friends worried about her. She had been fragile, like a brittle branch, as if she might snap at any moment.
But now, a strange heat was rising in her gaze.
Feeling the shift, Andrea teared up again.
“…Our Chloe. Oh no. She’s completely snapped.”
Chloe often referred to her friends as “those same three idiots,” like triplets. When she was especially embarrassed, she would pretend not to be with them at all.
But among those in the salon circuit, even Chloe was lumped in with them. To outsiders, they were seen as four peas in a pod. In the end, she was still part of this selfish, slightly unhinged group.
The sun was scorching, and visibility was poor. Dust swirled everywhere, and not a single blade of grass grew on the ground.
It wasn’t because this was a desert region at the edge of the continent. It was because the area around the frontlines had long since been turned into a wasteland by constant shelling and gunfire.
Taking advantage of a brief lull, Chloe and others moved quickly while holding their breath. They were collecting belongings from corpses—identifying bodies so they could notify units and families.
Chloe studied one of the bodies carefully before using a knife to cut out the name stitched onto its uniform. Nearby, wounded soldiers were being supported, but there was no capacity to handle the dead.
Then it happened.
Chloe shaded her eyes with her hand against the harsh sunlight. In her view was a familiar sight: a soldier in dark khaki uniform—Pitzmark’s.
There was one unusual detail. His chest was faintly rising and falling.
Chloe took a few cautious steps closer.
“…Hey.”
“……”
“Unconscious? Still breathing, at least.”
She looked around for help, but everyone was too busy retreating to even straighten their backs.
Finally, Chloe carefully waved her hand near the man’s face.
“Hah—!”
Before her hand could get close, the man suddenly opened his eyes. Chloe barely suppressed a scream as he grabbed her wrist and forced her down, pressing a finger to her lips.
It was an instantaneous, practiced motion—as if he had been waiting for the moment. His gaze burned like blue flame.
Chloe whispered carefully.
“Y-you can’t just use violence on a civilian from an enemy country…”
“……”
“Right…?”
“You don’t exactly look like a civilian.”
His eyes flicked to the dagger she had been holding moments earlier. Despite being injured, his expression and voice were unnervingly calm.
Yet his side, stained darker than the rest of his uniform, showed he had been hit by a bullet.
“I… that’s not what this is for…”
Ignoring her, he began searching her body and chest. Chloe flinched, but his movements were cold and precise, leaving no openings.
Weapons and various items spilled from her clothing.
At this point, even she had to admit she looked suspicious.
“Who are you?”
“That’s not mine…”
“Speak.”
Chloe quickly tried to identify herself.
But at that moment, the battlefield erupted again. A deep boom echoed—artillery fire drawing closer.
The unknown man grabbed Chloe’s shoulder. She stiffened.
“Head down!”
Neither hesitated. They rolled onto the ground instinctively. The pressure of his body on top of hers made it hard to breathe, but Chloe gritted her teeth, trying to survive the bombardment.
Then, a flash of light tore through the sky like lightning. They both froze and exchanged glances.
The man spoke again, more urgently.
“Cover your ears. If you want your eardrums intact.”
“……”
“No time. Do it.”
Chloe obeyed, shutting her eyes tightly and covering her ears.
That was not ordinary artillery. Even Chloe knew what it meant—classified or not. Pitzmark was deploying large-scale fire magic.
She had barely registered the thought when—
KWA-BOOM!
An explosion far beyond the previous ones shook the world. The sound tore through everything, pressing into their bodies again and again.
It took an eternity for the sound to fade and the dust to settle. The air smelled of burning ruin.
Chloe bit her lip reflexively.
That smell always meant someone who knew her was disappearing.
Finally, the man’s back was the only thing she could see through the drifting sand.
They stayed like that, waiting for the chaos to pass. Pressed together in the middle of a battlefield, relying on each other—until the sun set and stars rose.
Several days later, a message arrived at the royal palace of Pitzmark.
Urgent.
Secret Commander A.F.F. missing during operation.
It was the 183rd day since Chloe had arrived at the relief camp.
