“How cruel, Lady Romelia. We’d never. Right, Lagun?”
“I’ve never forced myself on a woman. Ever. Right, Gran?”
Their identical faces radiated innocence. I sighed.
Gran and Lagun were notorious womanizers, always seen with different companions on their days off. As soldiers, I trusted them implicitly—but their romantic lives were another matter. Still, their private affairs were none of my concern.
Though it was absurd how they courted women as a pair, the women who reciprocated were equally baffling. If all three were content, who was I to judge?
“You two always chase the same woman. Doesn’t jealousy ever arise?”
The question had long puzzled me.
Gran and Lagun were inseparable—mirror images in appearance and soul. They shared everything, even hairstyles and clothes. Apparently, even women.
But had they never wanted something solely for themselves? Something not even their other half could share? Had the thought never crossed their minds?
“There is, Lady Romelia.”
“There have only been two things we ever fought over.”
Gran and Lagun answered while looking at me.
“Oh? What could the illustrious Generals Granbel and Lagunbel possibly have fought over? Would you tell me?”
I asked with keen interest.
“The first was our mother. When we were children, she was the only one who could tell us apart, and she often patted our heads.”
“She would stroke both of us at the same time, but we each wanted her hands all to ourselves.”
Gran and Lagun spoke of the past with faint smiles.
Listening to the twins’ answer, I nodded. Wanting a mother’s love all to oneself—any child would feel that way. Though, personally, I never had such an experience, given that my own mother and I never got along.
“I see. But a mother’s love can’t be monopolized, can it?”
“Well, yes, but even if I could have kept her to myself, I’d have felt sorry for Lagun being left out.”
“That’s my line. I held back because I felt bad for Gran.”
Gran and Lagun began bickering. Watching their exchange, I nodded again.
On the battlefield, the twins’ coordination was flawless, and even when apart, they seemed to sense each other. Yet precisely because of that bond, even when one of them gained something they cherished, they didn’t just feel fulfillment—they also felt the other’s loss and sorrow. It was a beautiful yet tragic story.
As I turned on my heel to return to camp, I realized I had forgotten to ask something.
“Speaking of which, you mentioned there were two things. What was the other?”
I spun halfway back to face them.
“That is…”
“A secret.”
Gran and Lagun answered with matching smiles.
“Oh? Even from me?”
“If you order us…”
“We’ll of course tell you.”
When I laughed and asked, they laughed in return.
“I see… Then I’ll let it be.”
I didn’t press them for an answer.
People keep secrets in their hearts. Some things should never be forced into the light. What remains hidden should stay hidden, nestled within one’s soul.
I thought of the late King Henry and Queen Elisabeth.
Their actions during the founding ceremony—when General Zaria slew them—were beyond my comprehension.
Queen Elisabeth threw herself in front of King Henry to shield him, and King Henry, in turn, died protecting his injured queen.
Their final moments together on the blazing throne were a scene of heartbreaking beauty.
I don’t know what passed through their minds in that moment, nor do I need to.
There was love between them. That was all I needed to understand.
Besides, I had more pressing matters than unraveling others’ secrets.
My gaze fixed on the towering Gangaruga Fortress looming over the basin.
For now, taking that fortress was what I had to do.
READ THE ORIGINAL TRANSLATION AT gadgetizedpanda.net
As the sky began to lighten, voices urging soldiers to rise echoed outside the tent. Roused by the noise, I awoke and pushed myself up from the cot.
Sleepy-eyed, I glanced around at the tent’s white fabric interior. A cloth covered the ground, furnished with a simple table and chair. At the edge stood an armor rack, where my full set of armor and sword rested. A folding screen blocked the entrance, ensuring privacy.
Stretching, I stepped off the cot, revealing my thin nightgown.
“Lady Romelia. Good morning. May we enter?”
“Please, come in.”
With my permission, Leila—a freckled blonde—and Tetis—a pale-skinned ravenette—slipped past the screen. Both wore white dresses with frilled aprons tied at their waists. Leila carried a steaming bucket of water, while Tetis held fresh clothes and cloths for my morning routine.
But someone was missing.
“Where is Secretary Spiri?”
I noted Spiri’s absence.
Women were scarce in the army—aside from healers, there were only four of us: me, Spiri, Leila, and Tetis. As commander, I had my own tent, while the other three shared one. Every morning, they would come together to help me prepare, with Spiri confirming the day’s schedule.
“Well, about that…”
“The secretary is still asleep. We called for her twice.”
At my question, Leila and Tetis exchanged glances.
Come to think of it, Spiri had collapsed yesterday from exhaustion.
Negligent as it was, I was the one who had overworked her—and today’s tasks were already decided, leaving little to confirm.
“Never mind. Let’s begin.”
I sat on the tent’s chair as Leila poured warm water into a basin. After washing my face, I stood and spread my arms. The two helped me out of my nightgown, leaving me in only my undergarments.
As I bared my limbs, Leila and Tetis wiped me down with damp cloths. Once cleansed, they dressed me in a chemise and blouse.
“Lady Romelia, which outer garment would you prefer?”
Tetis held up two coats—one in her right hand, one in her left—and presented them to me. Both were pure white garments.
“We don’t just have white—there are other colors too, you know.”
My gaze followed Tetis’ gesture toward the other clothes she had brought. Sure enough, there were red and blue outfits among them.
“No, white is fine. The one on the right.”
“Lady Romelia, you really do love white, don’t you?”
Tetis sighed as she spoke, exasperated by my choice.
It was true that I often wore white. But it wasn’t that I particularly liked it—in fact, I rather disliked it because stains stood out so easily.
Personally, I preferred black or brown, colors that hid dirt well. But whenever I wore them, people would complain that it “wasn’t saintly enough” or “wasn’t cute enough.” And if I chose other colors, the outfits would inevitably become gaudier and more ornate. Since I disliked excessive decoration, I’d settled on white—the “saintly” choice—as the lesser evil.
“But this dress really is lovely, don’t you think? Especially this embroidery—look at all the work that went into it!”
Tetis examined the white garment. From a distance, the white-on-white stitching was nearly invisible, but up close, the intricate embroidery and lacework were undeniably beautiful.
Something this finely made would easily cost as much as a carriage. Of course, since this dress had been gifted by the Salvation Church, it was effectively free. Apparently, knitting lace and embroidering clothes for me had become something of a trend among the church’s female devotees, who happily sent me their handmade creations without charge.
Thanks to them, I’d probably never have to worry about clothes for the rest of my life.
Once dressed, I sat back down in the chair. Tetis began applying my makeup while Leyla combed my hair.
Tetis’ hands moved with lightning speed, wielding multiple brushes between her fingers as she worked on my face.
True to my request for a natural look, she skillfully adjusted the foundation to add subtle shading, applied blush with a delicate touch for a soft, barely-there effect, and finished with a lip tint that blurred slightly at the edges. When I checked the mirror, the result was so flawless it could’ve passed for my real skin and lips.
“You’ve improved again, Tetis.”
I marveled at the mirror. Her skill surpassed that of a mere maid—she could make a living as a professional kewaishi, a noblewoman’s makeup artist.
“I may not look it, but my master certified me as a full-fledged artisan.”
“I had no idea.”
I was surprised as Tetis puffed her chest proudly.
I knew she had studied under a renowned makeup artist in the capital, but not that she had earned such recognition.
“Ah, Lady Romelia, please hold still!”
Leila scolded as she braided my hair.
In the mirror, my hairstyle neared completion. What had been a tangled mess upon waking now framed my face in elegant, natural curves—lovely and refined.
It was excessive for someone not attending a ball, but Leila took hairstyling seriously, always eager to experiment.
“There! All done.”
Leila gave the final lock a tweak. Peering into the mirror, I saw a flawless noblewoman staring back.
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