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EDAU 09

EDAU

Chapter 9



02. The White Flower (3)

A few days before the House of Charleroi met its tragic end—

“An execution by firing squad for all of them?”

Anaïs asked again, like someone praying she had misheard. They had been discussing the civil war in the south—how had the conversation suddenly turned in this direction? She had thought, at worst, they would decide to send more supplies to Basbour and dispatch a few more revolutionary officers there. But now, the discussion was clearly aimed at the Eastern Tower.

“There was another royalist rescue attempt yesterday. The civil war is dragging on, and this is the third attempt already. In a situation like this, why should we keep those parasites alive any longer?”

“But an execution for all of them? Did you forget that there’s a five-year-old child among those royals in the Eastern Tower?”

“That five-year-old never cared that everything he wore was bought with the people’s blood.”

Edmond’s retort made Anaïs grit her teeth—not because she had nothing to say, but because the moral high ground here was obvious. Edmond Lambert was proposing something merciless and inhumane: to execute all the royals imprisoned in the Eastern Tower without trial. Anyone with a shred of humanity should oppose it.

But the moment Edmond uttered the words “the people’s blood,” Anaïs realized the outcome of this debate had been decided from the start. They had all risen up in the name of punishing the pigs who grew fat sucking the lifeblood of the people. The instant those words were spoken, whatever basic decency or common sense dictated was irrelevant inside this room—that was justice here.

She turned her head toward Anzola, who had been silent all along. Her eyes silently asked, Do you truly believe this is the right path too? What she received in return was an evasive glance, heavy with discomfort. In that moment, Anaïs understood—Anzola agreed with Edmond.

In a fight where the outcome was already set, the only unexpected ally to extend her a hand was Ariane Champollion, who usually preferred to remain a spectator.

“No matter what, shouldn’t there at least be a trial? Even if it’s just for show? Going straight to executions—people will talk about this later.”

“I agree. Never mind what people will say—if we start executing prisoners without trial, how are we any different from them?”

Ariane’s words leaned more on appearances than principle, but Auguste Germain added the reasoning Anaïs needed. Summary execution without trial was a remnant of the past, from when Antoine XIII and Crown Prince Henri brutally suppressed the revolutionaries. None of the people in this room had escaped losing comrades to that cold, hasty steel. And now, they wanted to do something no different—just because it was ‘efficient’? For Anaïs, that was unacceptable. Edmond, however, didn’t seem to share that view.

“We don’t have the resources or the time for trials. And if we waste both on a foregone conclusion, only to give Basbour the perfect opening to rescue one of those royals…”

“You’re not worried about wasting time. You’re worried a trial might let the young princess and prince live, aren’t you?”

Henri’s daughter, Louise Henriette de Charleroi, was ten years old. His son, François Serge, was five. If they held a trial for the royals, there’d be no logical way to convict such small children. Edmond pushed up his glasses and fixed his gaze on Anaïs as she pressed that point. Then, slowly—

“And if I said you were right, would that change anything, Anaïs?”

“…What?”

“If those children live—if we can’t even legally justify keeping them imprisoned—don’t you think they’ll fall into royalist hands eventually?”

The goal of this meeting was singular: How to crush the royalist and Basbour resistance forces. The fate of the royals in the Eastern Tower was just a means to that end. After all, the royalists’ claim to legitimacy rested on the survival of the royal family. If every royal was dead, how could they restore a ‘legitimate monarchy’? In that sense, Edmond wasn’t wrong—at least, not if you stripped away humanity and looked only at efficiency and purpose.

But was that right? Anaïs Belmartier believed that their very success in the revolution meant they had to cling harder to what was right and just. In Edmond’s utilitarian logic, there was no trace of the brilliant ideals they once carried on their badges and flags—freedom, rights, humanity.

“Kathrine de Basbour would crown a royal the moment she got her hands on one. I’ll stop that by any means necessary. Do you disagree?”

“Yes. Completely. We didn’t fight this hard to make a world where it’s acceptable to kill innocent children for that kind of reason.”

Anaïs’s blue eyes blazed as she shot back at Edmond. He didn’t flinch. Instead, he spoke even more clearly than before, pressing down each word like a weight:

“We haven’t built any world yet.”

With that, Edmond pulled a cigarette from his inner pocket, lit it, and exhaled a slow, gray cloud that wavered between them. Then, plucking the cigarette from his lips, he continued as if amused by something:

“We led the revolution to victory, but look around. These problems we face now—do they look like victory to you? You can go live in a flower field by yourself if you want, but don’t fool yourself, Anaïs.”

His voice was sharp, cold, stripped of all emotion—and it filled the room with the bitter smoke.

“The world is still a battlefield, Anaïs Belmartier.”

In the end, only Anaïs and Auguste voted against the measure. Except for Ariane, who abstained, everyone else supported the execution. That was the day the bleak, merciless fate of the royals imprisoned in the Eastern Tower was sealed.

⚜ ⚜ ⚜

The world is still a battlefield.

Even in her dreams, Edmond’s final words never changed.

After parting with Philippe and meeting Auguste and two other comrades, Anaïs returned to her home in Dinan and slept like the dead from dusk until morning. She had hoped for a pleasant dream to make up for the lost sleep—but what greeted her was a replay of that day’s meeting, every bitter detail burned into her mind as if a hundred years would not erase it.

When she woke later than usual, Anaïs ignored the ache in her body and dressed to go out. There were many patients waiting for her in Dinan, and she had resolved to check on the warfront in Rueil whenever time allowed. She still couldn’t understand Edmond—how could he speak of the world as a battlefield and then deliberately downplay the civil war’s progress? And the less she understood him, the more she felt she needed to see things clearly for herself—even if, in the near future, that knowledge turned out meaningless.

Thus began another day in Dinan.

Another day of living near Léonard. In the tiny village of Dinan, everyone was everyone’s neighbor—and in truth, Léonard’s house and Anaïs’s clinic were less than a five-minute walk apart.

Thanks to Philippe, the immediate crisis had passed. If she could just endure Léonard’s resentment, everything would be manageable—or so she thought. She hadn’t counted on an unexpected obstacle: the meddlesome kindness of Dinan’s villagers.

Generous to a fault and hopelessly romantic, they were clearly rooting for the two well-mannered young people from the capital to go from good neighbors to something more. Had it stopped at wishful thinking, Anaïs might have laughed it off—but people like Madame Bruni, who had brought her potatoes last time, were now taking active steps to play matchmaker.

It was… inconvenient.

Each time, Léonard greeted her with a demeanor that, while beyond reproach, was unmistakably stiff. Whatever awkwardness the situation caused her, it surely troubled him too—but somehow, he never dropped his mask as Léon Serdieu, even when faced with people trying to tie him to the woman who had brought ruin to his kin.

And so, the strange, uneasy coexistence of Anaïs Belmartier and Léonard Antoine de Charleroi continued. Meanwhile, Anaïs’s insomnia only worsened by the day.

 

Until one day—when, for once, she had no house calls to make and was resting at her dining table—someone knocked at her door.

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Even if the Dawn Abandons You

Even if the Dawn Abandons You

여명이 그대를 버릴지라도
Score 9.8
Status: Ongoing Type: Author: Released: 2022 Native Language: Korean
After the successful Great Revolution, the republic was established in Léans. Anais, an officer in the Revolutionary Army, ventured south, condemning her comrades for executing all the members of the imperial family. In the tumultuous region of Bassbourg, where the civil war between the Imperial Restoration Force and the Revolutionary Army raged on, Anais spent her days tending to the suffering civilians. It was amidst this backdrop that she unexpectedly encountered Leonard, the presumed dead second prince… *** Half-opened cold lips mingled with fresh, hot breath. Rather than an act of tenderness, it resembled a desperate touch, seeking solace in a fleeting moment of lost warmth. Leonard gazed into Anais’s eyes, taking in the tears that streamed from her closed eyelids. With a gentle touch, he slowly released his lips from hers, his hand delicately cupping her cheek and neck. It was then that Anais, her eyes still wet, erupted into laughter, a sound that mingled with the essence of tears. “You’re not exactly skilled in seduction,” she remarked through her laughter. “You’re still playing hard to get, I see. Well, you’re too kind to put on such a facade,” Leonard replied, a smile playing on his lips. He reached out to arrange the disheveled silver strands of hair resting on the blanket before leaning in once more. A deeper, deeper kiss followed. Anais did not push away Leonard, who held her body as if he would never let go of it, and dug tenaciously and earnestly between her open lips.

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