Damian unconsciously tapped the tip of his pen on the desktop, turning over his next words in his chest.
A drop of black ink dripped from the tip of the pen onto the wood.
He stared at it for a moment, then wiped it away with the tip of his military uniform.
The ink was purer in itself than the mud and blood of the battlefield.
So he took a deep breath, then exhaled it, and started writing.
[In the arena of war, the issue is a pretext.
Yes, I am fighting on the front lines, believing in their right to secede from the power of the empire.
But truth be told, for someone like me, it is just an excuse.
There is no relationship or covenant between me and them, and I have never been a professional soldier.
If I had fled this war, no one would have blamed me.
However, I believe that anyone who has dedicated himself to a cause does not deserve to be in a place like this.
That's why I fight for those who deserve to live, not for myself.
That's all there is to it.]
Damian had something else on his mind, but he refrained from saying it.
He had no idea how Lintree would receive his words; Rather, his concern was not to appear as a miserable man who joined the army because he had nothing to do.
Damien then resumed writing his letter on another piece of paper:
[Madam, I think that the best thing for you to do is not to get involved in this matter.
Do not talk to yourself about fighting, for war is poison to the soul.
I don't know why you started writing letters in the first place, but let's stop it.]
Then he stopped writing and tore the paper he was writing on.
He took out a new sheet of paper and began writing again:
[The causes of the war are intertwined, but if we look closely at it, it becomes clear that its purpose is the division of the two ranks and their fighting, then the repetition of the fighting.
And that is not a generous act.
Madam, do not mention the war or discuss the fighting too much.
In this way, you expose yourself to its evil.
Live in a safe, quiet place.
On the twenty-ninth of August 1878
-Lieutenant McCord,
Do you see that you slept to the fullest on the night when you received my final response?]
--------
[To Lieutenant McCord, who considers himself a fool:
First, I would like to answer your question, but I don't.
I am ashamed to inform you that a woman has been robbed of sleep because of you.
Your advice to Glen was completely new to me.
I did not think you would describe him as foolish, nor would you be overly concerned with my friendships.
But as afraid as you are, I'm really careful not to get involved with Glenn.
In this country, slanderers precede the wind in its enemy, and I have no choice but to be careful.
I know that we have never been 'alone' together, as I always have a maid to take care of me.
However, I agree that there is some truth in what you say, as men at this age are stupid.
And Glenn, he really is...
Yes, he's a cheerful fellow, but his cheerfulness is not spontaneous.]
Damian read the book and smiled triumphantly.
[Actually, I...
I've only recently been spending time with Glenn, and that's why I sorely miss a companion of my own gender.
You know that I do not confide many things to friends of the opposite sex, right?
And Glenn, although he is a good friend, does not block this space.
My father, as he is the rest of my family, makes me feel ashamed if I need an adult woman.
Do you know what I mean?
I think you understand, Lieutenant.]
"Hmm…"
Damian stood and thought for a moment.
He understood what Lintri wanted in his mind, but his heart could not find a way to share his feeling, as he had no friend.
[But perhaps because we do not meet face to face, Lieutenant... even if we are not of the same race, in broadcasting to you what I have that I cannot say to him in any other way is a comfort to me.
Well, today Timo gave birth to five puppies!
Timo, my dog, who is a year old, is a breed of hunting dogs, but she has never gone out hunting.
The sight of puppies with their eyes closed is amazing!
I think it will get nicer after today, so what do you say?
By the way, do you like dogs or cats, Lieutenant?
As you know, I am a dog lover.
Please tell me in your answer.
On September 6, 1878,
-From Lintree, which increased many brothers.]
The letter ended without mentioning the reason for Damian's fight, and this was a relief to him, as he did not trust himself when talking about it at length.
[To Mrs Lintree, who understands my anxiety,
I am pleased that you found in me someone to whom you can entrust your thoughts, as if I were your friend.
But I don't have friends of your gender, nor of the opposite gender, so I'm afraid I don't understand you.
And don't ask me why I don't have friends; It's just that.
Moreover, I grew up in an orphanage, and although I knew about the roles of the household, I was ignorant of many of its subtleties.
Forgive me if our understanding does not converge.
I also prefer dogs over cats, as I find there is affection between me and dogs, but as for cats, I have never realized anything about their pronouns.
Because I raised military dogs in barracks, I was familiar with them.
Do you have a camera?
If so, I advise you to take a picture of your puppies every day.
The kindness of an animal fades quickly, and the images of its youth remain a memory.
The cold began to intensify until my mother needed thick coats, and I was worried about the bad conditions on the front.
It is not strange for a soldier to be struck by enemy bullets, but it is unjust for him to be struck by the cold.
Last year, supplies were short, so the winter became harsher for us.
I hope this year will be easier.
Be careful of colds when autumn arrives.
On the twelfth of September 1878,
From the barracks, already cold, Lieutenant McCord.]
------------
A few days later, Damian returned to the barracks after a battle, and began frantically searching through official envelopes and papers.
It was a horrific sight.
His hair was completely soaked in blood and mud, his clothes were torn, and the pungent smell of gunpowder had permeated his body.
[To Mrs Lintree.
Do you spray perfume on just one message and skimp on it on the next one?
I really ask you to sprinkle it on the next message,
Lieutenant McCord.]
His message this time was very short, unlike any message he had sent before.
The ink was scattered throughout it and its crooked words indicated his emotion.
But Damian did not bother to fix it.
He sent it immediately via international express mail, and then he collapsed on his bed, clutching his chest as if he were choking and bursting into bitter sobs.
That day, he was the only survivor among his comrades in the barracks.
***
Her response came only five days later, as Lentry also quickly sent her letter via courier.
["Lieutenant McCord,
Your last letter worried me; I have not seen you send me a separate letter from your usual replies.
What's up?
Am I injured?
Your confused writing and its strange topic increase my fear, and I am almost certain that that dot in the corner of the paper is blood!
As for the perfume, it disappeared from my mind, as I thought that its scent would not last a week on the road.
But if it makes you happy, I'll always spread it.
I sprayed it today.
September 21, 1878
— Lintree, who never stops worrying about you.]
Because the two letters had been exchanged in haste, Damien received a reply to the previous letter on the same day as this one, and now he had two envelopes.
Among them, the letter that arrived via international courier was particularly thick.
Damian opened it with wide eyes, and inside the envelope he found a carefully folded tissue.
The handkerchief smelled exactly like the letter he had first received.
His hands trembled as he spread the handkerchief - its smell had faded somewhat due to the long walk - but its remains were enough to fill his heart.
He did not know the name of the flower that perfumed him, but it was the peony, with its warm, reassuring scent, expelling - even if only for a moment - the stench of gunpowder that had stuck to his soul.
Damian held the handkerchief to his nose and inhaled its scent deeply.