The war was over. Or so they said. But for Kaian Bayern, it wasn't. The Emperor sought to confine him. Once a hero, he was now feared, placed under watchful eyes. A shackle in the form of marriage. His partner: Jamie. Ostensibly a political alliance, but in reality, surveillance.

But he was still on the battlefield. Blood soaked into the muddy ground, shattered cannon wheels, gunpowder smoke fluttering like hair. Even the rain reeked of ammunition and blood, and fragments of bloodstained uniforms littered the ground. When the enemy's ambush began, he led his soldiers to charge. Cannons roared, smoke billowed from the ends of musket barrels. Bayonets pierced, lead bullets tore through flesh. With each explosion, severed limbs flew into the sky.

A soldier fell. Kaian instinctively caught him. But the soldier's abdomen was already shattered. He sputtered blood, but his breath ceased before he could finish his words.

At his voice, soldiers charged, and at a single gesture, hundreds fell. It was a successful tactic because more thousands survived. Everyone praised him. But he remembered the faces of the dead. One judgment left hundreds of corpses, and he counted them. First with his fingers, later in his mind. Only numbers remained, and the people disappeared.

He had to do something. But an explosion engulfed him. Hot, sticky blood ran down his face.

It was a victory. Everyone cheered. But Kaian couldn't escape it. At night, he still heard the sound of shells flying, and when he closed his eyes, severed corpses looked down at him. He needed alcohol. He thought he could forget if he drank. But the more he drank, the clearer it became.

The war was over. But he remained in the middle of it.