[But it's true that I don't want to see your face, and for that reason, I would have preferred you not to send a picture.
I'm not saying I don't want to see your face because I don't love you.
This is due to my personal reasons, so please don't be upset.
It's just...]
Damian stared at the spreading ink stain from the word 'just' expressionlessly, unable to easily lift his fountain pen from the paper.
He was struggling to find a way to get his message across without upsetting Lentray or revealing his weakness.
So he crossed out the word “just” with his pen and continued writing.
[Instead, if I come to you one day, will you show me your face then?]
After he wrote that sentence, Damian slapped his face.
"Oh my God.
Tennant, I forgot your advice and your promise.
I'm sorry.
But I'm not going to die.
And to be honest, I have no intention of keeping that promise anyway."
Damian thought about writing a new letter but decided to leave it as it was.
“Well, that's not an important promise, and I don't plan on keeping it, so it doesn't matter if I write it down, right?”
[And I'm really sorry, but I can't send you my photo either.
It's not about security concerns.
I am a soldier who may die at any moment.
There's no point keeping a photo of someone like that.
I'm worried about your attachment to me.
Honestly, I would have preferred you not to wait for my messages.
If no one responds to your message, it means I'm dead.
I don't want to see you waiting for messages from someone who is gone forever.
So, I was just going to share ordinary and trivial stories with you.
I shouldn't have picked up your message in the first place.
One of the other soldiers should have taken it.
September 24, 1878.
Second Lieutenant McCord, I am struck by your curiosity.]
Writing the letter was particularly difficult today.
He wanted to send it and forget about it, despite his exhaustion, but surprisingly, the response arrived within nine days instead of the usual two weeks.
He blinked and opened the envelope, a familiar smell emanating from it.
Damian then had to come face to face with Lentrai's intense wrath.
[To Second Lieutenant McCord, king of all the idiots in the world.
You said the most stupid things I've ever heard.
I understand that you do not want to see my photo and that there are reasons that you may not be able to explain.
(Do you have a girlfriend?
If so, you've made a huge mistake.)
Your words made me realize something.
You are truly a soldier in a war where death may come at any moment.
In that case, I would like you to have as many conversations with me as possible before you die.
I love you, Lieutenant, and I enjoy exchanging letters with you.
So from now on, I will send all my messages via international express delivery.
I hope you do the same.
If the shipping cost is a burden, you can send it cash on delivery.
But what is this nonsense that you say that there is no point in having a picture of a person who could die at any moment?!
My mother died when I was young, and all I have left are some of her belongings and some pictures.
Now, when I miss her, I look at her photos and reminisce about her.
If it weren't for those pictures, I would have felt miserable as her face gradually disappeared from my memory.
It hurts, but if I had to choose between being able to see someone's face through a photo or having my feelings and memories of them fade away, I would definitely choose the former.
Forgetting someone can erase the pain, but sometimes forgetting is more painful.
So, even if I fall in battle one day and are no longer able to reply, I will be able to endure while waiting for your messages that will never come, by looking at your photo.
So, I won't send you my picture because you don't want it, but give me yours quickly.
I need to know what you look like.
Otherwise, I might find myself on a train to Libby with my camera next week.
Yes, to see your face with my own eyes and take it in a picture.
I'm sorry I don't want to get attached to you, but it's too late.
I couldn't sleep that night after receiving your letter because I was so worried.
So if I die, I will be very sad and cry until my tears flow.
If you don't want to see it, don't you dare die!
Damian's shoulders slumped as he read the letter.
Although he did not recognize Lentrae's face or voice, her sharp rebuke pierced his ears.
Her usually clear, circular handwriting was jagged with anger, and there were obvious signs of scribbling.
In some parts, the paper was jagged, as if it had been pressed too hard with the pen.
He thought she was a cheerful and innocent gentlewoman, even if a little childish.
He didn't expect her to curse him like this.
McCord, "King"...
[But there is one part I like.
Looks like you're planning to visit me someday?
If you really come looking for me, I will welcome you with open arms.
Okay then.
You can see my face then.
So please come and see me safely.
But I'm not as patient as you, Lieutenant, so I'll still need your photo.]
"You're persistent, aren't you, Mrs.
Lentrae...?"
[And about the handkerchief, your guess was correct.
I had prepared it in advance, wanting to dedicate it to you, and then I received this letter.
The perfume on it is the one I wear whenever I go out.
It starts with the scent of sweet pea and bergamot, followed by rose and peony, and ends with white musk.]
He didn't know much about flowers, so he couldn't identify the scent of each flower, but it seemed to describe a mixture of floral scents, so he let it pass.
[It feels like you're in the middle of a flower garden, doesn't it?
I was worried that the scent might fade during delivery, so I poured about a third of the bottle onto the tissue.
The wrapping paper became a bit soggy because of this.
If you need more scented wipes, let me know.
I will send you as many as you want, so don't be stingy and use it even when your hands are wet after washing them.
September 30, 1878.
Lentray, Waiting for a King's Portrait.
Note: I will send you a picture of Timo and the puppies instead of mine.]
At this line, Damian looked inside the envelope and found a picture.
The photo showed a mother spaniel dog surrounded by her wriggling pups.
This sight eased the tension in Damian's heart a little.
He felt that he might die from Lentray's anger before he died from the enemy's bullet if he did not respond immediately, so he quickly picked up his pen.
[To Mrs.
Lintray, whose words were as sharp as those of a teacher.
First and foremost, I apologize.
I'm sorry because I feel like you'll be riding the train to find me if I don't.
I didn't expect you to be this angry.
I don't have a boyfriend.
I have other reasons for not wanting to take your picture.
But to think that you would risk your life for my image...
...
My concern for you is real.
I don't want you to get hurt because of me.
And you cannot deny that my anxiety about the lack of a response to my next letter is realistic.
I just want you to know that I'm more worried about you than you are about me.]
Damian suddenly thought that death wouldn't be so bad.
He now has someone to shed tears for him.
Lentrae is sure to cry for him.
He should be happy about this, but...