At this sound, Emily—who had been clearing the table—grumbled and went to the door.
"Well, who arrives at night like this? Nothing good can come of it. I'm opening, I'm opening! You'll break the door down! What's happened this time?"
She was certain it was one of the neighbors again, asking to borrow a cup or a pot.
Thinking so, Emily opened the door and saw an unexpected person behind it.
"Sergeant Richard?"
Richard stood at the door, out of breath and drenched in sweat. He had obviously run here as fast as he could.
"Ryan? Is he here?"
"Yes, he's inside, speaking with the master... Sergeant Richard!"
She assumed he'd simply ask for Ryan. But Richard immediately stepped inside and strode into the sitting room.
He couldn't have failed to know it was impolite. So he had a reason for doing it, despite the breach of etiquette.
Eloise, hearing Emily's surprised voice, quickly dried her hands and followed Richard.
*Why is he looking for Ryan?*
A chill of foreboding ran down her spine.
"Richard?"
Ryan—who had been just about to ask Mr. Severton for permission to court Eloise—looked in surprise at Richard as he entered.
Richard greeted Mr. Severton and spoke.
"I apologize for disturbing you on such a pleasant evening. I need to give Ryan something."
Richard bowed apologetically again and, grasping Ryan's hand, led him out of the house.
Anyone would have understood he wished to speak privately. The Severton family and Emily—not daring to follow—only exchanged anxious glances.
---
"What's the matter?"
Ryan's voice was sharp as he was led from the mansion.
Though he knew Richard wouldn't act this way without reason, he couldn't help feeling annoyed.
*Finally, finally*—he had been about to tell everyone about his relationship with Eloise. And at the same time, he had decided to reveal that he was Ryan Wilgrave.
He had imagined dozens, hundreds of times what Eloise would say when he revealed himself as Ryan Wilgrave.
At first, she would think it a jest. And no wonder—they'd spoken of Ryan Wilgrave so many times.
In fact, every time Ryan had asked her, *"If I were Lieutenant Colonel Wilgrave, would you say the same thing?"* Eloise had thought he was teasing her. But for him, it had been a sincere question.
When he stopped joking and repeated his words seriously, she would finally understand something was wrong and become confused.
And then, when she learned it was true, undoubtedly—
*She'll be furious.*
She would be enraged that he had communicated with her while concealing his true identity. And he would have nothing to say in response. All he could do was apologize, explain why he'd had to act this way, and hope for her understanding.
It wouldn't be easy. No—perhaps Eloise, deciding he'd been making a fool of her, would refuse to speak to him at all.
But he could not remain silent forever out of this fear.
The moment he had grasped her hand amid the falling landslide, Ryan had made his decision.
He wanted her. Eloise.
He wanted to live with her. To always be near her. He wanted her to smile at him—and he, too, wanted always to give her smiles.
All these feelings couldn't end in a fleeting affair. So Ryan wanted to bind himself to Eloise somehow.
And naturally, this usually took the form of marriage.
Ryan had imagined his wedding with her several times before sleeping.
A distant green meadow strewn with wildflowers. Blissbury, with white curtains fluttering from every window, heralding a joyful day. The people of Feltham, who now seemed like comrades-in-arms.
The children laughing and throwing petals. The adults seated and applauding.
Under warm and gentle sunlight, Eloise standing before him in a white dress.
Every time he imagined it, Ryan felt a tingling deep in his chest.
Perhaps it was his conscience, guilty for envisioning a future he hadn't yet secured.
And yet Ryan's imagination didn't stop. But it never lasted long. At the moment when the priest called him *Ryan Wilgrave*, everything around him froze—becoming eerily quiet.
The laughter, the applause, even the rustling of the wind—everything died. In the frozen space, only Eloise stared at him silently.
Each time, he would jolt upright in alarm. And that was where his imagination stopped.
He had believed that today, he would finally be able to imagine what happened next—but it was at this moment that Richard had intervened.
Noticing Ryan's expression as he looked at him had grown even more ferocious than usual, Richard raised his hands with difficulty, as if calming a wild beast.
"I don't know what you've been doing, but read this first."
Richard took an envelope from his jacket pocket and handed it to Ryan.
Ryan tensed as he held the envelope up to the light spilling from the house.
A simple envelope, without embellishments. But the name "Sylvia" was written on it.
The soft, elegant handwriting suggested it had been penned by a woman—but Ryan knew better.
It was a code name used by Army Headquarters when sending top-secret orders.
Ryan immediately opened the envelope. The contents were brief.
---
*"To my beloved. How are you?*
*Your father wishes to meet you. He seems deeply concerned about that man's problem. I hope you return home as soon as possible.*
*Yours, Sylvia."*
---
Anyone would assume this was a letter from his beloved, asking him to return quickly.
But of course, it was not.
The first sentence was meaningless. "Father" was the army general who gave him orders. "Home" was, naturally, army headquarters.
But what caught Ryan's eye most were the words *"that man."*
It was the code name for the enemy nation—Gilia.
*Ha...*
Ryan exhaled a long breath.
When Gilia had announced defeat, he'd believed he would never receive such orders or see that phrase again.
And now, in his hands, the nightmare of the past was stirring once more.
"Have you read it?"
"Are you mad? How could I read Sylvia's letter before you?"
Richard was also one of those who knew "Sylvia" was a secret code.
So as soon as he'd confirmed the letter had arrived with supplies for the engineering corps—to avoid suspicion—he'd rushed here like a madman.
"So what does Sylvia say?"
"That I should return home."
"The reason?"
"Because of *that man.*"
*Ha.*
At Ryan's words, Richard dragged a hand over his face.
*Why?* After the peace talks had long concluded, why was Army Headquarters summoning Ryan again over their problems?
"What are you going to do? Leave immediately?"
"There's nothing to be done. If Sylvia calls, I must return."
Ryan replied in a firm, frozen voice. He had already regained the expression of Ryan Wilgrave—the one he wore at headquarters.
Dispassionate and cold. Not smiling at any words. With a faint trace of hopelessness.
Richard, after dragging his hand over his face several times and pacing the yard, said to Ryan again:
"And what will you tell Miss Eloise? Though I had an inkling—you were definitely planning to speak with Mr. Severton about your relationship with Miss Eloise today..."
"Richard Cameron."
Ryan called his name coldly. It was Ryan Wilgrave's voice.
"It's none of your concern."
"Sorry..."
The order had arrived. The relationship between them was no longer one of friendship, but clear hierarchy.
"I'll bid farewell to the Severton family and return shortly. You and Philip settle matters here and follow later."
Ryan turned back toward Mr. Severton's house.
Left alone, Richard—as if agitated—paced the yard several times, then finally turned around.
Perhaps because it was too dark, and they were preoccupied—
They did not notice the small footsteps that quickly disappeared behind the thick bushes surrounding Mr. Severton's mansion instead of a fence.