*"Lady Sinclair?"*
The name was familiar to Ryan. And not only to him.
How many soldiers in Albion who'd fought in the war didn't know her name? If anyone claimed ignorance, one had to wonder if they were truly from Albion.
She'd joined the army as a nurse and—sparing no effort—cared for soldiers on the very front lines. Several times, she'd miraculously escaped areas completely surrounded by the enemy.
Because of this, she'd earned the nickname *the Goddess of Victory* in the Albion army.
Convinced that all life was sacred, she'd even treated wounded enemies. After the war's end, she'd been summoned to the Disciplinary Committee for precisely that reason.
But unlike Ryan, her fame remained immense. People demanding she be found innocent gathered in front of army headquarters, staging daily demonstrations.
The Disciplinary Committee—unable to ignore growing public opinion—had limited itself to the lightest punishment: withholding fifteen days' pay. They brought no further charges against her.
He also remembered her asking Baron Stanford if he could arrange a meeting with Ryan Wilgrave.
*"It seems she has no feelings other than professional respect for you. She casually asked if she could meet you, and when I said it would be difficult, she didn't ask again."*
How long had it been since someone accepted rejection so graciously?
And indeed, afterward she'd made no further attempts to contact him through the Baron. It seemed her interest had been merely the curiosity colleagues feel toward one another.
Honestly, Ryan held considerable respect for her.
So why had her name suddenly surfaced here and now?
But the speakers—noticing they could be overheard—fell silent and moved on quickly. Ryan was unable to learn more.
He considered following them, but too much proximity would arouse suspicion. Ryan had no choice but to return to his lodgings, having achieved nothing substantive.
His refuge was a dilapidated hotel on the city's outskirts—one of many run-down inns where travelers arriving and departing the capital stayed.
Ryan climbed the stairs to the third floor and opened the door to his room.
Despite it being daylight, the dim room was filled with a faint smell of mold and the characteristic musty odor of a dark, damp place.
*It's fortunate that winter has begun. In summer, you could probably fall ill just by staying in this room.*
At that moment, Ryan remembered Blissbury.
A beautiful manor where sunlight streamed everywhere. A fresh breeze always blew, and the scent of well-dried herbs and wildflowers permeated the entire house.
And there was...
Ryan—remembering Eloise's laughing voice—ran his hand over his face and picked up the lamp from the table.
Then, going to the window, he lit the lamp and placed it on the windowsill.
Only then did the room brighten slightly. But Ryan did nothing further—simply continued staring silently out the window.
Outside, so close it seemed he could reach out and touch it, stood a building just as decrepit as the one where he was staying.
As he turned on the light, someone in the dark room opposite also lit a lamp. It was a man in a hat pulled low over his head.
Because of this, the other man's face was hidden. Ryan was also wearing a hat, so he probably couldn't see his face either.
Ryan raised and lowered the lampshade a few times.
*Click. Click-click. Click.*
Short, long, short again.
When he finished this childishly simple action, the man opposite began raising and lowering his lampshade in the same manner.
Because the distance was such that they could nearly reach one another, it wasn't visible from other rooms. Even if someone from outside had peered through the gap between the buildings, they wouldn't have guessed they were exchanging information.
Ryan and his contact exchanged a few more signals, then turned off the lamps.
Immediately afterward, Ryan descended to the dining room on the first floor and ordered a glass of wine and lunch.
For such a shabby establishment, the food was quite decent. While Ryan ate, he saw through the window a man with his hat pulled low emerge from the building opposite.
There had been nothing remarkable in the code exchanged between Ryan and his contact.
*"I conducted surveillance today as well, but nothing significant."*
However, Lady Sinclair's name had come up in their conversation.
Ryan's report would cross the sea today through another informant and be delivered to army headquarters.
Ryan, dipping a piece of meat into the sauce and placing it in his mouth, thought again about Lady Sinclair.
*Why did her name surface?*
Since she hadn't refused treatment even to Gilian soldiers, the inhabitants of Gilia regarded her not so much as a military hero of an enemy nation, but as a true physician and nurse for whom nationalities didn't exist.
So mentioning her name in conversation was nothing extraordinary.
Yet even as he thought this, Ryan instinctively felt some inexplicable unease.
*I need to be more careful.*
With that thought, Ryan finished eating and stood.
Surveillance of the target was over for today. Judging by his behavior thus far, he wouldn't be leaving again. So now it was time to walk the city and gather information himself.
Stepping outside, he saw people with faces as gloomy as the overcast sky. Ryan, blending into the crowd, headed toward the gathering places of soldiers flooding the capital.
Along the way, a stationery shop caught his eye.
Before the war, Gilia had surpassed Albion in cultural refinement. Though the post-war indemnity had left people with little spare money—unable to afford the luxurious lifestyles of before—the aesthetic sensibility that had once flourished remained.
As if to confirm this, even in such an ordinary shop, the goods on display were of high quality.
Among them, his eye caught on letter paper decorated with painted roses.
Ryan immediately walked inside.
Seeing Ryan—dressed like other defeated, wandering soldiers—the shopkeeper tensed and reached under the counter. He undoubtedly had a gun hidden there. If anything happened, he intended to shoot.
Ryan took a silver coin from his pocket, placed it on the counter, and said:
**"That one in the display case. The letter paper. Give me all the colors."**
---
"This is my first time going to army headquarters."
Beatrice muttered in the jostling carriage, looking as though she didn't like it at all.
"Why? Don't the capital's young ladies dream of meeting officers?"
Eloise asked. Beatrice looked at her with a pitying gaze, sighed briefly, and said:
"What lady would go to army headquarters to meet officers? Anyone of standing can be found at receptions hosted by the military."
"I see."
It was no surprise that—though interested in military conversations—she had no desire to visit army headquarters.
After all, receptions were the most convenient way to meet officers.
"In any case, we need to finish quickly. We can't be late to Lady Sinclair's gathering on the first day."
"Of course."
The carriage traveled for some time. In the distance, beyond the forest, tall buildings appeared. Their imposing and austere appearance alone made it clear they were military installations.
"I'll wait in the carriage, so come back quickly."
Though the Baroness had ordered them to remain together, Beatrice was clearly too lazy to walk the expansive grounds of army headquarters.
"Of course. I'll be right back."
This suited Eloise perfectly—she didn't want Beatrice or the Baroness to know the real reason for her visit.
Upon entering, the soldiers guarding the entrance blocked Eloise's path and asked:
"Miss, what is the purpose of your visit? If you're visiting family—"
"Oh, I'm not here for a visit. The thing is... they returned my letter, but I didn't receive any notification about the recipient being transferred to another unit, so I came to inquire. In cases like this, who should I contact?"
The guards exchanged glances at Eloise's words. Then, looking at her, they assumed sympathetic expressions.
One could guess what they were thinking just from their faces.
Exactly as Eloise had imagined. They probably thought her an unfortunate country girl who'd been deceived and abandoned by a demobilized soldier—and now she'd come searching for him.
"Over there. Go inside and ask."
They saw Eloise off, clicking their tongues in pity.
Eloise pressed her lips together tightly.
*Ryan Thornton! Just wait until I find you!*
She would make him pay in full for putting her through such humiliation.
---
An hour later...
**"Ryan Thornton... there is no such person?"**
Eloise—her face devastated—repeated the receptionist's words like a parrot.