Even if the Dawn Abandons You - Chapter 1

August 17, 1898, the night of the Great Revolution.

The bourgeoisie, who had long been usurping the gold rights of the workers and nobles, finally led a large-scale revolution against the oppressive Léans Empire under Antoine XIII’s tyrannical rule. With the cooperation of the eastern warlords, the revolution, known as the Les Angs Revolution, successfully took place on this very day.

It was done. The revolution had triumphed.

However, the new era did not dawn without its challenges.

In front of the Revolutionary Army, numerous problems that needed to be addressed were piled up like a mountain. The imperial family, including the Emperor, Empress, and Crown Prince’s family, were confined to the east tower of the Imperial Palace, and most of the loyal nobles who devoted all their energy to defending the Imperial Palace until the end died on the night of the revolution, or were shot the next morning. Among the nobles who did not, some met their downfall with humility. Some belatedly handed money bags to the revolutionary army and waggled their tails. But deciding their fate was only a small part of the Revolutionary Army’s task.

After securing the imperial palace, the revolutionary army elected Enjolras Remicourt, a former lawyer turned leader, as their first president. They then shifted their focus towards dealing with the forces of the Crown Prince faction that had retreated to southern Basbourg. Thus began the fierce resistance of the Imperialists, which would later be known as the Léans Civil War.

And now, the following year, 1899. As the civil war in the south escalated and efforts to rescue the imperial family grew more intense by the day, the Revolutionary Army revealed the last card they had kept hidden.

? ? ?

“This is absurd… …”

Anais Belle Martier clutched her silver hair with both hands, bowed her head, and muttered almost in tears. She stood before a heavy iron door, where gunshots and screams resounded.

Charlotte Bernard, smoking a cigarette, thought to herself that it would have been better if she hadn’t come if she had to endure this suffering. It was clear to her why she was here, despite disagreeing with the notion to the point of wearing a blood-red handkerchief around her neck until the end. Why did things remain the same even after all these years? Charlotte couldn’t forgive the prisoners beyond that iron gate. She chose not to go inside, unwilling to witness the living being shot dead, but she believed that this “execution” was necessary. Unlike Anais.

They had their reasons. If anything was lacking, it was humanity. While Charlotte could bear it, Anais seemed unable to overcome it. That was always the kind of person Anais Belmartier had been. Charlotte stood still by the door, recalling the words Anais had pleaded with her in the meeting room.

“Are we trying to create a world where innocent children are executed without a fair trial?”

Of course not. But it was also a world worth opening up to if necessary. Besides, an innocent child. Wouldn’t someone who heard it misunderstand that there were about a dozen poor children in there?

A faint cloud of cigarette smoke drifted in front of the iron door. Behind it lay the captive royal family, taken months ago. No, given the multiple gunshots and screams already heard, it might be more accurate to say that they “had been” there.

The emperor and the empress, the crown prince and the crown princess, and the 18-year-old princess.

Also, the Crown Prince’s ten-year-old daughter and five-year-old son.

The civil war in the south intensified day by day, and Basbur sent personnel to rescue the imperial family every day. If they managed to bring even one member out safely, they would be crowned emperor at Basbourg Fortress. Even from the perspective of the Revolutionary Army, which had yet to locate the second prince who was believed to have escaped the palace on the night of the revolution, keeping the imprisoned imperial family alive risked bolstering the morale of the lingering enemy. In a word, it was too burdensome.

The people’s voice calling for the killing of the imperial family imprisoned in the tower was getting stronger day by day. Opponents of the execution, including Anais, demanded at least a trial. However, in the eyes of Charlotte, of another comrade present at the execution, and even of President Renicourt, who was absent, a trial was out of the question. It was a luxury.

A trial may sound sophisticated, but would that bring back all the comrades who had died like dogs without trial or any semblance of justice?

Charlotte gritted her teeth. In fact, even this end was not pleasant. She wished for the imperial family to suffer more, to endure misery. Even if it meant facing a bloody retaliation in the future, she would have no regrets. But that was not what Anais wanted. Charlotte’s gaze fell upon Anais, still looking down at the floor.

“I am leaving.”

As the noise in the room subsided, Anais uttered those words, seemingly possessed. Since it was one of the expected remarks, Charlotte responded with little emotion.

“Where?”

Then, as if still hearing the distant gunshots, Anais spoke.

“Basbourg.”

For a moment, she almost missed Anais’s response to the voice coming from inside the door, asking, “Charlotte, are you out there?” Fortunately, she didn’t miss it. Anais truly meant it. There would still be time to answer the call from beyond the door, but Anais standing before her seemed ready to depart for Basbourg at any moment.

Charlotte hastily tossed her cigarette to the ground and crushed it under her foot. She then looked up and grabbed Anais’s arm, her lips clenched.

“Don’t go. It’s dangerous.”

“People who shouldn’t be dying in those dangerous places are dying, Lottie.”

Anais called out to her with a determined voice, using her nickname. She had cut her beautiful silver hair, which resembled the soft moonlight of a black dawn, to a length that barely reached her shoulders. But hadn’t Anais turned twenty-five this year?

During the student uprising in April, when Charlotte lost her fiancé, Anais lost her father.

Anais’s father, Frédéric Bellemartier, had been the president of Beauharnais University. He was a remarkable man who had risked his life that night, racing through the streets of Seine to protect the students from the guns and knives of the riot forces led by the crown prince.

Charlotte Bernard still remembered the eighteen-year-old girl with silver hair running by her side, tending to the wounded. Even when faced with the sight of Frédéric’s remains, who had died from an accidental shot fired by the riot forces, Anais did not collapse or shed a tear.

They said that no one who had risked their life that day had emerged unscathed, but all the students who participated in the April Uprising remembered Frédéric Belmartier. And they cared for Anais, who had been left all alone.

It was unfortunate that Edmund, who had served as a strategist for the Revolutionary Army, had used Anais as a symbol of the revolution. But it wasn’t surprising. Many people associated her with the loss she experienced on that same day, and Charlotte was one of them.

The night she lost her fiancé, she saw a girl who had unjustly lost her only family member.

That girl had grown up and become their comrade.

Although their intentions regarding the treatment of the imperial family differed, Anais held a special place in Charlotte’s heart. The revolution had succeeded, and the civil war would soon come to an end. At least, that’s what Charlotte believed. So there was no need for Anais to venture all the way south.

It was actually Ardinand, the warlord from the east who had aided the Revolutionary Army on the night of the Great Revolution, who was fighting against the nobles of the Imperial Restoration in Basbourg. The president believed it was right for the Revolutionary Army to march directly to Basbourg and face off against the Restorationists, and indeed, several of their comrades had already gone there. However, Anais’s decision to go to Basbourg was not driven by such confrontation. It was clear that it was not her primary motivation.

Anais Belmartier was a doctor, not a soldier. She intended to help the citizens caught in the crossfire of the civil war. She wanted to be on the frontline, where no one would protect her.

“I hear they lack doctors,” she said. “The number of civilian casualties continues to rise.”

“Even if you don’t go…”

“I don’t belong here; I belong there.”

Then, as if gunshots were echoing once again, Anais’s voice grew quiet. A single gunshot, intense and piercing. Was someone still alive? If there was one person who could withstand it, it would be Crown Prince Henri Georges de Charleroi, but the outcome of that gunshot was left to chance. Whose life had just been claimed? Seeing Anais with wide eyes, Charlotte suddenly felt strange for having such thoughts.

In an instant, the world became unfamiliar. And amidst the unfamiliarity, Anais Belmartier spoke quietly, as if she were the only one unchanged.

“Today, I realized it.”

Charlotte Bernard was not foolish enough to misunderstand the meaning behind those words.

“Even after it’s all over… Will you not come back?”

“No.”

The revolutionary with silver hair, once a symbol of the revolution, asserted her unyielding will in a calm voice.

“I don’t plan on coming back.”

Not here. Never.