It had been a downpour, as if the sky were falling.
Mr. Severton's house had barely held up in that storm. That night—when they'd been trapped here—so many bowls throughout the house had caught dripping water, playing their own chaotic melody.
The water, which had flowed not only from the ceiling but also down the walls, had left ugly stains everywhere.
The Corps of Engineers had repaired the worst damaged areas, but due to more urgent matters, other minor damage remained unaddressed.
Eloise's room was the same. The water stains on the wall were still plainly visible.
"This one isn't even wet."
Ryan looked at the portrait of Ryan Wilgrave with displeasure.
"What do you mean, 'this'? It's a portrait of a superior officer. Why not treat him with more respect?"
"He's not Her Majesty the Queen—so there's no need."
Eloise's eyes narrowed at his sharp tone.
"How many times do you think he's saved your life? Salute immediately."
Ryan feigned ignorance when Eloise said it.
Seeing his behavior, Eloise took a clean cloth from her bag. Then she began diligently wiping the remaining dirt from the portrait frame.
The movements with which she cleaned the portrait were exceedingly careful. One could sense clear concern that she might damage the painting even slightly.
Her hand glided, and the face in the portrait regained its former luster.
Eloise worked with genuine diligence. Moreover, when she wiped the face, she was even more careful—as if handling a glass doll that might shatter at the slightest pressure.
Ryan didn't like this scene at all.
*If I'd known it would turn out like this, perhaps I should have been patient when they wanted to paint my portrait.*
Thinking this, he smiled bitterly.
He had entrusted his adjutant with posing for him not merely because he was lazy. At the time, he'd had numerous missions infiltrating enemy territory—so he'd needed to conceal his appearance as best he could.
Thanks to this, until his rank became quite high, he'd managed to deceive many.
In contrast, soldiers whose faces were known had been captured by the enemy and killed on the spot.
So he'd considered himself fortunate—but now, simply because Eloise treasured this portrait so much, he forgot everything and regretted it. How foolish.
But seeing how Eloise—demonstratively breathing on the portrait—continued wiping it, Ryan grew annoyed.
*If only they'd drawn my face back then. Would Eloise have immediately shown affection when she saw me? Could I have spoken to her so warmly sooner? Then...*
Ryan quickly shook himself from thoughts that threatened to spiral endlessly.
Now was not the time to regret missed opportunities or be jealous of the "Ryan Wilgrave" in the portrait.
*I have to tell her I'm Ryan Wilgrave.*
He'd forgotten about it—no, he remembered, but desperately put it off.
Of course, there were reasons. While operating under the name Ryan Thornton, he couldn't voluntarily reveal his identity as Ryan Wilgrave.
Because it was another, legally existing identity, he was prohibited from revealing his true name at his own discretion unless it related to a military mission.
Mark Russell, who had come from the capital, had recognized him because he'd received orders—but had they met by chance, he would have pretended not to know Ryan Wilgrave and passed by.
*But...*
How could he return to the capital now and secure permission?
Moreover, looking at Eloise—who was lovingly polishing the portrait, her eyes flashing as she demanded he show respect to Lieutenant Colonel Wilgrave—it seemed imperative he reveal his identity to her immediately.
*First... she'll be angry.*
He'd spent months with her, pretending he wasn't Ryan Wilgrave, and watched her fiercely defend him.
It would have been better if he'd said he didn't know him—or changed the name of his battalion. But he, having stated he served in the Fifty-Seventh Infantry Battalion and was slightly acquainted with the lieutenant colonel, had continued observing her reaction.
*Why did I do this?*
Just think—he could have said it differently.
Initially, Ryan Thornton's identity had only been assigned the rank of sergeant. As for his place of service, he could have named any suitable unit at Army Headquarters without causing problems.
But he'd said from the very beginning that he served in the Fifty-Seventh Infantry Battalion.
*At the time, I didn't think anyone would care...*
Besides, he'd assumed that after greeting Mr. Severton's family and the people of Feltham, he'd have no further contact with them.
And indeed, for some time he'd remained at Blissbury and met only the most necessary people.
And now everyone in Feltham knew him and greeted him warmly. And what's more—with Eloise, with whom he'd thought he'd never speak again...
He looked at Eloise, who was still busily cleaning the portrait.
The clear autumn light, streaming through the window, illuminated her.
Her light brown hair, bathed in sunlight, shone with the most beautiful hue of abundance.
Her eyes—even as the cool season arrived and everything changed color—still retained their summer green.
The time they'd spent at Blissbury was the most hectic, restless, and joyful.
As he gazed at her absently, Eloise—as if sensing his stare—turned her head.
The moment their eyes met, hers—which had narrowed until then—curved softly and filled with warmth.
As if the harsh words she'd spoken moments ago had been a jest, her gaze was full of tenderness. Ryan, without noticing, walked toward her.
He wanted to capture that smile right there and then. And kiss it.
As if his lips knew where they should go, they naturally reached for hers—
"Eloise! Your father has arrived!"
Mrs. Severton's loud voice rang from below. At the sound, they both flinched and took a step back.
Realizing where they were and what they'd been about to do, they turned away—clearing their throats or adjusting their clothes—trying to hide their awkwardness.
"I-I think I'll go down."
Eloise turned quickly. Ryan followed silently.
As he descended the stairs, he touched the back of his heated neck.
*A disaster.* On such a clear day, his desire had shamelessly surged forth again.
---
As they descended, Mr. Severton was hastily alighting from a carriage that had just pulled up.
"Darling! Eloise!"
Without even straightening his disheveled clothes, he ran to the entrance.
"Dear!"
"Father!"
Mrs. Severton and Eloise rushed forward as well.
The three of them embraced. At another time, everything would have been different.
They would have expressed their joy at the reunion more reservedly and hurried to unpack. But this time, everything was different.
"I-I, as misfortune would have it, at such a time..." Mr. Severton's voice, as he embraced his wife, trembled.
This was the first time Mr. Severton had been separated from his family for such a long period.
Even though he'd asked the villagers—with whom they were like family—to look after them, and even though his relatives were independent people, he couldn't help but worry.
And then, as ill luck would have it, such a disaster as the Great Flood had occurred.
That he had not been there when his family needed and searched for him most tormented Mr. Severton.
"I tried to return several times... all the bridges were destroyed. Soldiers blocked the roads and wouldn't let me through..."
He was always clean-shaven and neatly dressed. But now—unlike his usual appearance—Mr. Severton was unshaven, and his face was haggard.
It was impossible even jokingly to reproach him for being absent when most needed. So clearly visible on his face—like wounds—were the anxiety and longing for his family.
Looking at the sobbing Severton family, Emily—who had come out after them—also wept, wiping tears with her sleeve.
*Everyone is alive and well.* That alone was enough.
Mr. Severton, constantly stroking the faces of his loved ones and weeping, raised his head and looked at Ryan.
He released his family for a moment and walked toward him.
Ryan felt his mouth go dry with tension. Even though he had saved Eloise, she hadn't escaped completely unharmed.
After all, who could remain unscathed in such a raging torrent of mud? That was why there were still scars on her arms and legs. Besides, he might consider it inappropriate that the two of them had remained in the house alone.
The moment Ryan decided he needed to apologize first—
*Clap!*
Mr. Severton spread his arms and embraced Ryan.
"Sergeant Thornton. You saved our daughter. I don't even know how to thank you for that..." Having said this, Mr. Severton—overcome with emotion again—was unable to continue.
While Mr. Severton, clapping Ryan on the shoulder, struggled to find words of gratitude, Mrs. Severton and Eloise—smiling and wiping away tears—looked on.
After a long moment, Emily, wiping the last of her tears, said:
"But you must be hungry—so eat first. It's just about lunchtime!"
"Oh, yes, yes."
Mr. Severton finally released Ryan and walked over to Emily, patting her shoulder.
"You must have endured a great deal of hardship as well. Is your family all right?"
"Yes. Everyone stayed comfortably and safely at Blissbury. The house suffered a little, but it was old anyway—so the Corps of Engineers built us a new, sturdy one. We actually came out ahead!"
In response to Emily's cheerful reply, Mr. Severton was finally able to smile calmly again.
"Come sit at the table! I'll bring soup!"
Everyone headed toward the dining room.
At the table—which was usually set for only three—there was, as a matter of course, a place setting for Ryan.
Ryan felt a strange sensation when he saw this.
A place where, for him, the setting was laid out as a matter of course. Unlike the army, this was a far more intimate and personal sense of belonging.
Without even noticing, he suppressed the sigh that escaped him.
It was unmistakably that warm feeling of belonging called *family*.