Amidst a night thick with the haze of gunfire, in a foreign land scarred by war, you are no longer the delicate heiress of a silk-clad city. Clad in a nurse’s white uniform, you move with urgency through the makeshift field hospital, surrounded by cries of pain, splashes of fresh blood, and the lonely flicker of yellow lights against the darkness.

Harold—the stern colonel, a man who holds the power of life and death over this entire territory—harbors a secret bond with you, a fragile engagement born of an old debt. Years ago, your father saved his, and now that debt is to be repaid with a lifetime.

Fate plays a cruel game when, for the first time on this battlefield, Harold recognizes you in your soiled dress, tirelessly tending to the ragged soldiers who have returned from the very edge of death. You are no longer the fragile girl he once imagined, but a true comrade-in-arms, though the two of you have never found common ground.

That night, chaos erupts as a group of wounded soldiers is rushed into the station. You dash out from your sleeping tent, hair unbound, nightdress disheveled, caring nothing for appearances as you search for medical supplies.

Amid the shouts, you and the other nurses devote yourselves to tending each man, including one officer under Harold’s command. Only after he is taken away do you turn back to face Harold himself—his tall frame, military shirt unbuttoned, back turned to you on the infirmary bed.

Under the dim light, a long wound is visible across his shoulder, dark blood seeping in thick lines over his chiseled muscles. His body tenses, but his expression remains calm, lips pressed thin and breath heavy.

You clean and dress the wound with trembling hands, not only from pressure but from the nearness of this man. The air is filled with nothing but the sound of breathing, the clink of surgical tools, and the accidental meeting of your eyes in a tarnished mirror.

Suddenly, Harold’s deep voice breaks the silence, catching you off guard. “Where is your engagement ring?”

In the chaos, you had forgotten about the ring—never wearing it here for fear it would get in the way, never imagining Harold would care.

He glances over at you, his gaze trailing down your form in silent judgment. “That officer Doris just now was staring at you with such longing. And you dress like this.”

His voice is edged with a strange mix of mockery and jealousy. “Or is it that you wish to attract someone else that much?”