"Yes, there's no such name in the documents. There's a Brian Thornton—he's a nineteen-year-old who enlisted last year. Perhaps you're looking for him? He's from the Seventeenth Division."
Hearing the name, Eloise shook her head helplessly.
The name was similar, but the age and unit didn't match Ryan at all.
For a moment, she wondered if she herself had been mistaken.
*This can't be.*
She'd had so many conversations with Ryan last summer. Every time the subject of Ryan Wilgrave—whom she respected so deeply—came up, the conversation naturally drifted to the legendary exploits of the 57th Infantry Battalion.
And each time, Ryan—as if confirming he'd participated in those battles—had told Eloise about the details with vivid descriptions.
Stories about crawling through mud in pouring rain, under a hail of enemy shells. About climbing out of a blood-reeking puddle...
Could a nineteen-year-old boy who'd enlisted near the war's end have invented such things?
Moreover, her first letter had definitely been delivered to the 57th Infantry Battalion.
"Verification complete. Next—"
"Wait!"
As the clerk was about to call the next person, Eloise quickly recovered and addressed him again.
"Then Philip Osborne! Is Mr. Osborne here? He's also from the 57th Infantry Battalion."
The clerk—not hiding his irritation at being stopped again—sighed heavily and began leafing through the papers once more.
*Isn't Mr. Osborne here either?*
While Eloise bit her lip impatiently, the clerk's hand paused on the list.
"Ah, Philip Osborne. Here he is."
At these words, Eloise's face brightened.
*Of course. They can't all have vanished. At least Philip is definitely here—so if I find him, I can ask about Ryan too.*
Hope was already rising, but—
"He was discharged from service two weeks ago."
"What? Discharged?"
*Discharged? What does that even mean?*
There had been no mention of this in the letter he'd sent Abigail.
Though, come to think of it, Philip's letter hadn't been concrete about anything. But she never imagined he'd left the military entirely.
"Then perhaps you have Mr. Philip Osborne's address?"
"Let me see... Oh. It's empty."
The clerk waved a piece of paper with nothing written in the "address" column.
"Maybe it's recorded somewhere else?"
"If it's empty, it means he didn't want to provide his address. He may have reported it personally to high command, but I don't have access—so I can't tell you. And he probably wanted it that way. So, that's all now—"
"Wait! One more! Just one more person!"
"Ha... This is the last time. I can't spend all my time on you alone, young lady. See how many people are waiting?"
The clerk gestured behind Eloise. Various people sat there, awaiting their turns.
While Eloise had waited earlier, she'd overheard why they'd come.
Someone was searching for a soldier who'd accepted money on the promise of introducing them to high command. Someone sought a soldier who'd promised marriage. Someone was looking for a man who, during the war, had urgently requisitioned a harvest from a warehouse—claiming the army would pay later—then vanished...
Of course, there were also those who came for less unseemly reasons.
Someone was searching for the soldier who'd saved his life when he was captured by the enemy. Someone came to deliver an item picked up on the battlefield—something belonging to another...
They all had their own stories. They were all desperately searching for people.
She couldn't monopolize their time because of her own problems.
"And Richard? Mr. Richard Cameron?"
When Eloise mentioned this name, the clerk—without even glancing at the list, as though there was nothing to verify—said:
"He's on extended leave. I'll tell you in advance: his whereabouts are also unknown."
"How can you know without looking?"
"There's no need to look. He's quite famous—women are constantly looking for him. All right, that's all. Goodbye. Next!"
The clerk—making it clear he would answer no more questions—immediately called the next person.
A middle-aged man standing behind her quickly approached, looking at Eloise as if to say *"Move aside."*
Eloise had no choice but to rise and leave.
Perhaps it was because she'd been indoors? The winter wind blew beneath her collar. Eloise sank onto the nearest bench.
Even in the cool air, her confused mind refused to clear.
*What's happening?*
From the day he'd suddenly departed until now, these were the words she'd muttered most often.
*How can it be that none of the three can be contacted?*
She certainly hadn't expected this.
Honestly, she'd thought she'd find Ryan immediately upon arriving. She'd discover his new unit, obtain an address, go there, and be able to meet him today.
But there was no way to reach Ryan—or the other two.
Eloise tried to think of who else might know about Ryan. Naturally, Baron Stanford came to mind first.
*But... Baron Stanford, as far as I know, goes to his country house in winter.*
During the war, he would have remained in the capital. But now that it was over, he needed to manage his estate—from which he'd been absent for so long.
The problem was that Baron Stanford's estate lay two weeks' carriage ride from the capital.
*And going there unannounced to ask about Ryan seems somehow...*
Eloise took a deep breath and stood.
Beatrice was waiting outside, so she couldn't linger.
As expected, when Eloise returned to the carriage, Beatrice was glaring at her.
"What were you doing in there for so long?"
"Just... this and that..."
Eloise waved her hand vaguely and turned away. She didn't have the energy to accommodate Beatrice's mood right now.
Beatrice also seemed in a hurry for another reason, so she urged the coachman.
"Quickly! Lady Sinclair doesn't tolerate people who are late!"
---
The carriage reached Lady Sinclair's mansion in awkward silence.
"Hurry up! Hurry!"
Beatrice said this and went inside first.
It seemed the joy of finally arriving was so great that she couldn't even wait for Eloise.
Eloise hurried after Beatrice, but she'd already disappeared into the crowd.
She wanted to call out, but immediately reconsidered.
*We'll meet after it's over anyway.*
Or perhaps they'd encounter each other while she leisurely explored the mansion.
But at such gatherings, it was impossible to simply address strangers without introductions. Initiating conversation was considered impolite.
*Until I find Beatrice, I won't be able to greet anyone.*
Perhaps it was for the best. She wasn't in the mood to smile or chat with anyone right now.
Eloise looked around and headed toward the mansion's garden.
As she'd expected, chairs were arranged everywhere for those who wished to rest.
Eloise sat in a chair in the far corner and looked up. People could be seen greeting each other with smiles on the mansion's terraces.
*They say it was a mansion granted by the royal family.*
Beatrice had explained that the royal family—recognizing Lady Sinclair's achievements—had bestowed this residence as a reward. Since then, it had become the center of the capital's high society.
Looking at the grand mansion, Eloise took another deep breath.
*They say she's my age.*
Lady Sinclair had accomplished heroic deeds and was universally respected. Meanwhile, she—having left her homeland—wandered around the capital searching for a man whose very existence she wasn't even certain of.
Just as she was about to sigh again—
"Hello."
A cheerful voice suddenly sounded from beside her.
Eloise turned in surprise and saw a woman with short, curly hair looking at her with a smile.
She extended her hand to Eloise.
**"I've never seen anyone sigh like that in our house before, so I grew curious and came to introduce myself. My name is Maria Sinclair."**