Cry Pretty When You Come Back - Chapter 3

“Lexenor Noel.”

Lexenor Noel, 29. 

A black-and-white photo was attached to the propaganda, along with detailed personal information, probably considering him a notable figure. Unlike other rugged soldiers, he had a somewhat languid and carefree aura. She knew him. How his hair was as black as night…

Nemia rubbed her pale face wildly to erase the rising emotion. She had been suffocating from the burden of facing sincere feelings she didn’t want to confront. She hit her chest a couple of times and took a deep breath.

She was trembling now. Not with anger, but engulfed by fear.

“Do you know this man?”

Around that time, an unfamiliar voice came from behind. Nemia jumped in surprise, her shoulders trembling a little.

“What are you so surprised about? Like a guilty person.”

Nemia turned around to look at the owner of the voice. The man who had appeared without a trace was tall enough to raise her head to meet his gaze. Despite the calm and gentle atmosphere his eyes exuded, his robust upper body was imposing enough to instil a sense of intimidation.

Nemia shook her head as she stepped back.

“Oh, no.”

“Looks like you’re as straightforward as you look. Not good at lying.”

She knew right away. This man was a soldier. And a quite high-ranking one at that.

The more she stepped back, the closer the man approached. As his shoulder-length blonde hair fluttered in the wind, his sea-like blue eyes trembled.

“I don’t know if you have met before. It seems you hold a deep grudge?”

“Does it look that way?”

“Yeah. Your face reminds me of someone I met at the single wooden bridge.”

She had tried to appear nonchalant but was already overwhelmed by his gaze. Why did he look at her with such eyes? As if he were a stern journalist facing a renegade.

Nemia shrugged her shoulders and continued her words as if defending herself.

“As a Lautrecian, I can’t exactly welcome a Waltane person. Waltane is our enemy. I despise Waltane terribly with a passion.”

“That’s odd.”

“What is?”

Without answering, he bent his waist, bringing his lips close to her ear. His warm breath was so close it sent a shiver down her spine. Though she gripped her hands tightly, the man just nonchalantly twisted the corner of his mouth.

“You’re half Waltane.”

Her body stiffened in surprise. Even the racing thoughts hurriedly halted as if papers had turned entirely white.

“With Waltane blood running in your veins, why the hatred? Poor Noel must be in pain.”

“What are you talking about right now? You’ve mistaken me for someone else. I’m not a half Waltane.”

“Why so unenthusiastic? I already know everything.”

The man tilted his head and grinned playfully.

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, nice to meet you, Nemia.”

She tried to put on a stern expression, but it was too late. He had already figured everything out. Perhaps even more than she had about herself.

With a meaningful expression, the man reached for the crucifix necklace hanging around her neck and gently traced the surface with his thumb. Then, he placed a reverent kiss upon it.

“Who… who are you?”

“Hero.”

He answered without the slightest hesitation. The face that had been mournful just a moment ago vanished, replaced by a sudden chill. He repeated it as if praying.

“A hero. The hero who will resurrect Lautrec.”

* * *

[The Commander-in-Chief and President of the National Defense Forces! Lexenor Noel, the hidden son of Lexenor Jobert.]

With an extraordinary appointment, not only Waltane but the entire world was abuzz. It wasn’t difficult to dismiss the army colonel who hadn’t shown any notable achievements. The Waltane citizens, who had driven away the pompous colonel, celebrated the new rising sun. Thanks to this, Noel, appointed with pomp and ceremony, just smiled wryly.

[A veteran of the Border Special Unit. A true hero. Protecting Waltane at the risk of his life.]

Every media outlet featured Noel and even published interviews with President Jobert, revealing his sentiments. Reports littered with lies were clear. The exemplary story portrayed a son who hid his identity and existence to roll down as a regular soldier and a devoted father who watched over his son, who had rolled through life and death, and country. Well, it was a dramatic story that people would worship.

Setting foot in the capital for the first time in his life, Noel slowly surveyed the magnificent hall. The floor was adorned with a red carpet, and rows of golden chairs were placed. The ceiling, round like a hemisphere, was blue and high as if imitating the sky.

Noel examined his own attire. The uniform that stiffened his movements, one not particularly useful in combat.

A military cap with a collar and an eagle engraved on it. The national insignia and sacred cross on his left chest shone, and the epaulettes over his shoulders were excessively heavy.

“Looks good.”

Standing on the elevated platform, he could see everything at once. Was it because of this sense of exaltation? Rolling through the muddy grounds drenched in blood, just to stand here, to reach out even a hand freely…

“It seems better than I thought.”

Noel raised his chin and a bitter smile on his lips.

It didn’t feel too bad about revealing the secret of his filthy birth.

The grey-haired Brigadier General’s mouth trembled as soon as his eyes met Noel’s.

“Lexenor Noel is hereby appointed as a Major in the army and as the commander of the special forces, Leopard Batallion. Do you swear to dedicate yourself to the mission, vowing to sacrifice your life for the high honour of Waltane, the preservation of its integrity, and the peaceful lives of its citizens?”

“I swear.”

As Noel gave a grand salute, the thunderous applause echoed with no sign of stopping. Along with the flashes, jealousy surged beyond admiration. The scrutinising eye seemed to be dissecting him piece by piece.

Noel eventually lowered his gaze and suffered from bitterness. He slowly raised his eyes and stared indifferently at President Jobert, who was sitting on the podium and applauding.

As of today, he had become a puppet hanging by that man’s strings. No, perhaps it would be more accurate to say a dog on a leash.

“Major! A meeting is scheduled for next. Then there’s a dinner with the President…”

“No need for that. Anything like that.”

As soon as the long appointment ceremony ended, Noel left the official residence without saying farewell. His aide begged, sweating, but Noel wasn’t in the mood for that.

In front of the President’s mansion, a sleek black car radiating luxury was parked. As Noel appeared, the driver approached with graceful movements and opened the door promptly.

Noel, about to remove his cumbersome military cap and get into the car, suddenly reacted with an animalistic swiftness.

“If there’s any issue-“

Before the aide by his side could finish the sentence, Noel was already gone. His hair was tousled by the wind, resembling the rushing breeze.

“Major!”

He heard the aide’s cry clearly, but Noel did not look back. He hurriedly ran across the road where the car was going fast. Disregarding the danger, the daring man grabbed the woman’s arm and turned her around.

“Eek!”

As her stumbling body swayed, her rich auburn hair fluttered. The woman flailed her arms in surprise. However, the man easily slipped away, more than she had anticipated. She carefully scrutinised Noel from top to bottom.

“What are you doing?”

Then, she tucked her dishevelled hair behind her ear. Her elegant attire revealed a lovely face and her status, which would have been enchanting to most, yet the confident man turned away, exuding a chilling demeanour.

“Excuse me!”

The woman shut her mouth. Because she had a hunch that the man wouldn’t look back. Noel gnashed his teeth as he walked away.

Again. Once again, he had engaged in a futile endeavour he couldn’t restrain.

“Please save me…”

It hadn’t been a day or two since he had chased after a helpless woman, as if driven by a wild desire, just because he saw the red hair and grabbed hold of the petite woman. He even went as far as finding a red-haired woman in a brothel he had never been to.

“D*mn.”

However, the moment he saw the woman running towards him, almost stripped of her clothes, he had to admit the truth. It wasn’t just about desiring the red hair. What he truly desired was that woman. The one who had disappeared, perhaps even died. The prey he had let go for the first time.

‘Can I find her?’

‘Or was she still alive?’

Whatever the truth, he would soon come to know. Turning back as if asking when that had ever been the case, Noel got into the classic car and leaned comfortably against the backrest. Ignoring the blurry scenery outside the window, he closed his dizzy eyes. In the darkness that brought solace, he vividly envisioned the intricate facial features.

“You must not die.”

It was an out-of-the-ordinary tone. His aide, Albert, glanced fearfully at the upper-ranking officer whom he would serve as of today. He tried to avoid it, but the man’s murmured words were heard clearly. Horrifyingly clear, to the point of sending shivers down the spine.

“She’s not dead.”

***

The stronghold of the Provisional Government of Lautrec was the already ruined Tineke Castle. The scorched castle was so gloomy that there was no trace of its former glory, but the surrounding terrain was difficult, so it was perfect for hiding.

Beyond the shattered window caused by a bullet, Nicolo observed the man entering the castle and narrowed his eyebrows. As Anton disappeared into the castle, he casually took his seat as if asking when that had ever happened. How long had passed since he had tapped the table? A soldier guarding outside the door announced a visitor.

“Your Highness, Major Anton requests a meeting.”

“Tell him to come in.”

“Yes.”

Anton crossed the threshold with his emotions in check. He briefly locked eyes with Nicolo, a man with a slightly trembly appearance, then lowered his head subtly.

“You’re here. I’ve been waiting.”

“I apologise for being late.”

“That’s how it should be.”

Nicolo Cassel was the last remaining bloodline of the Cassel royal family back in the days of the monarchy when Lautrec was ruled by Kings. Though the monarchy had crumbled and the nobility had lost power long ago, there was still a nominal presence.

Nicola had used that nominal presence as a stepping stone to rise to the position of the head of state in the present hardline government. He had stood apart from the previous government which had been conservative and preoccupied with succession. Despite nearing old age, he was a leader brimming with vitality. Anton knew him well. The stubborn lips and deep fanned brows. Beneath thick eyebrows, eyes blazing with thorough fighting spirit.

“I want to hear the report immediately. You’ve been wandering around freely until now. Even the order to see your face was casually brushed off.”

“If it bothered you, I apologise. I wanted to meet you after everything was securely in place.”

“Report.”

He didn’t allow the slightest gap or let small matters slide easily. In short, it could be said he wasn’t someone who would be easily swayed.

***