Chapter 115: Patricia

By the time the ball was in full swing, the officers who had been crowding around Morin slowly began to excuse themselves.

Some went to find their own social circles, while others headed to the center of the hall to invite their ladies of choice to dance.

Morin finally breathed a sigh of relief. He truly disliked these social occasions that required constant talking. He felt more tired than commanding a company charge on the battlefield.

Just then, Cecilia appeared beside him, accompanied by several graceful noblewomen.

“Fritz, why are you hiding here alone?”

Cecilia’s tone was lightly scolding, but the amusement in her eyes was unconcealed.

Morin immediately straightened up, tidied his uniform, and politely greeted the noblewomen.

His current manner was appropriate and his words humble, a stark contrast to the image of the ‘Famous Playboy of Dresden.’

“My, Cecilia, your brother is truly remarkable.”

A lady in a lake-blue gown fanned herself with a feather fan, her eyes openly appraising Morin:

“A war hero so young, his future is boundless.”

“Indeed,” another lady agreed, her tone filled with envy. “Unlike my own good-for-nothing son, who only knows horse racing and card games all day.”

These noblewomen, who had previously shown little interest in Morin the playboy, were now all vying for his attention.

The way they looked at Morin was like assessing a purebred horse of excellent lineage.

“First Lieutenant Morin, are you perhaps spoken for?”

“My daughter happens to be of a similar age to you. You young people surely have things in common.”

“Madam Falkenstein, perhaps we could arrange for my daughter and your brother to meet sometime?”

The lighthearted words were spoken one after another, but the underlying intent was perfectly clear.

Cecilia’s smile remained perfect, but she naturally stepped forward, lightly linking her arm with Morin’s, and affectionately pulled him closer to her side.

She quickly and smoothly interrupted the conversation, which was rapidly turning into a matchmaking session.

“My dear friends, please stop teasing Fritz. He just returned from the battlefield. Let’s not frighten your delicate young ladies.”

Her voice remained gentle, easily diverting the topic.

After a brief introduction, Cecilia told Morin that she was going upstairs with the noblewomen to a private room to discuss some matters and asked him to rest in the hall for a while.

“Of course, Big Sister Cecilia.”

Morin was immensely relieved and quickly nodded.

He yearned for some peace and quiet alone.

Watching Cecilia and the noblewomen gracefully ascend the stairs, Morin let out a long sigh.

He took a glass of champagne from a servant’s tray, walked to an inconspicuous corner of the hall, found a comfortable sofa, and finally settled down for a quiet moment.

However, he had not been idle for long before a familiar voice sounded behind him.

“Hiding here alone and drinking alone—that’s not like you, Friedrich.”

Morin turned his head and was greeted by a familiar, cheerful face.

Ludwig, wearing a sharp Teutonic Knight Order field-grade officer’s service uniform, had somehow appeared behind him.

“Lieutenant Colonel Ludwig?!” Morin was surprised. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“And I didn’t expect to see you here either~”

Ludwig shrugged, then grinned slyly:

“Actually, I saw you the moment I walked in, but you were surrounded by so many people, like a star in a circus. I couldn’t even squeeze through.”

Morin took the glass and clinked it against Ludwig’s. “Lieutenant Colonel, please stop teasing me.”

He glanced at the noisy hall, feeling somewhat stifled, and suggested: “It’s too noisy here. Shall we go out to the balcony for some air?”

“An excellent idea.”

Ludwig stood up and followed Morin, moving through the crowd to a large balcony on the side of the hall.

The cold winter air hitting their faces instantly dispelled the heat and annoyance of the ball.

Outside the balcony was the manor’s rear garden. The moonlight poured down like mercury, bathing the tranquil courtyard in a hazy silver glow.

The lighting on the balcony was much dimmer than the hall, with only a few classical sconces casting a faint yellow glow.

The soft music and the noisy chatter drifting from the hall were muted, sounding distant.

Ludwig took a sip of the drink in his glass. The spicy liquid slid down his throat, and he let out a sigh of satisfaction.

He turned his head, looking at Morin in the moonlight, a playful, teasing smile on his face.

“I must say, Friedrich, you’ve changed too much.”

“What’s the matter? Our famous playboy, after a trip to the battlefield, no longer has the urge to attend balls? Now he just hides in a corner and daydreams?”

“People change.”

Morin leaned against the carved stone railing, his gaze cast toward the distant night sky, his voice sounding somewhat distant.

“And once you’ve been on the battlefield, you gain a sense of crisis.”

He turned back to look at Ludwig, his eyes showing a seriousness the other man had never seen before.

“My mind is constantly preoccupied with the battlefield, thinking about how to keep my soldiers alive, how to win the next battle.”

Hearing Morin’s words, the smile on Ludwig’s face slowly faded.

He could feel that Morin wasn’t joking.

He had seen too many examples of that state—survivors of hellish battles who could never shake off the shadow of war.

Many excellent Knights in the Teutonic Knight Order were consumed by the brutality of war, unable to separate fighting from life, ultimately turning into madmen who knew nothing but killing.

“Friedrich, don’t put too much pressure on yourself.”

Ludwig’s tone became gentle and sincere.

“Our Grand Master once told us something, and I’ve remembered it ever since.”

He paused, recalling the ‘Golden Lion’s’ teaching, and repeated it word for word:

“A true Knight must draw a clear line between combat and life.”

“On the battlefield, you can be a ruthless war machine, but when you return to life, you must revert to being a human being of flesh and blood.”

“Otherwise, you will easily become a mindless warmonger, ultimately enslaved by the sword in your hand.”

Ludwig patted Morin’s shoulder, continuing his counsel:

“I’m not advocating for you to pursue pleasure like you did before, but sometimes, you need to relax when you can… Clear your mind, think of nothing, and enjoy this time of peace.”

Morin listened silently, saying nothing. He knew Ludwig was right.

The two drank their wine in silence, enjoying the rare tranquility.

In the garden below the balcony, several young couples were strolling under the moonlight, the atmosphere romantic and lovely.

Though it was a winter night, it seemed unable to deter their enthusiasm. Occasional bursts of silvery laughter drifted up, adding a touch of vibrancy to the quiet night.

Ludwig watched the scene below, a sudden, peculiar smile appearing on his face.

He nudged Morin with his elbow, lowering his voice, a hint of excitement and mischief in his tone.

“My sister, Patricia, is also here tonight.”

He winked at Morin, then continued:

“I had originally planned to find a specific time later to arrange for you two to meet. But what a coincidence to run into her tonight! This is simply fate!”

Morin’s hand, holding the wine glass, froze.

“Lieutenant Colonel, I genuinely have no mind for all this romance right now… Sentimental matters will only slow down my firing speed.”

Ludwig was amused by his righteous response.

“Alright, alright, I know you’re a busy man focused on your career now.”

He smiled and waved his hand. “But surely meeting her is fine? Just as getting to know each other as normal friends.”

“My sister…”

Before Ludwig could finish his sentence, a clear, pleasant female voice interrupted him from behind.

“Brother, I knew I would find you here.”

The two men turned around simultaneously.

A young woman in a white evening gown was standing at the entrance of the balcony.

She had brilliant blonde hair, which cascaded like a luminous waterfall under the light.

Her fair skin seemed to glow in the moonlight. Her features were delicate, like a sculpture crafted by a master artist.

Especially her pair of emerald green eyes—clear and bright, yet carrying an inherent pride.

She simply stood there, naturally commanding all attention. She was the perfect embodiment of the phrase ‘Blonde Noblewoman’ in Morin’s stereotypical mind.

Morin had to admit that she was indeed a stunning young woman.

Patricia’s gaze first fell upon her brother. Then, when she saw Morin standing next to Ludwig, her expression visibly shifted.

A flicker of surprise and complexity passed through her beautiful eyes, but she quickly masked all emotion, regaining her composure.

Morin also recognized her.

Although his original body’s memories were blurry, the socially humiliating scene of being publicly rejected after a confession still left a deep impression on him.

The atmosphere became subtle in an instant.

“Patricia, let me introduce you.”

Ludwig broke the silence, a cheerful smile on his face, seemingly oblivious to the undercurrents between the two.

“This is First Lieutenant Friedrich Morin, our comrade from the Aragon front line!”

He then turned to Morin and introduced: “Friedrich, this is my sister, Patricia.”

“Miss von Seeckt, good evening.”

Morin forced himself to speak, mechanically nodding and forcing a stiff smile.

“First Lieutenant Morin, good evening.”

Patricia returned a polite smile and slightly inclined her head.

And then, there was silence.

The two exchanged an awkward and mechanical greeting, then both fell into silence.

One looked at the sky, the other at the ground, carefully avoiding eye contact.

Ludwig, watching the freezing atmosphere, felt a throbbing headache.

He couldn’t help but inwardly scream:

Friedrich, aren’t you supposed to be a playboy? Where is that drive you used to have to rush toward a beautiful woman? Why are you acting like a pure, timid virgin now!

Morin was equally embarrassed.

He was indeed inexperienced, and facing an opposite sex with whom he had a ‘dark history,’ his mouth felt stitched shut. He had no idea what to say.

Patricia was also somewhat awkward.

The person who had publicly and loudly confessed his love to her, only to be ruthlessly rejected, now seemed like a completely different man.

His demeanor was much more composed, and he was now referred to as a war hero.

A thought flashed through her mind.

Is he doing all this to prove something to me?

To prove that rejecting him was a mistake?

This idea stirred a strange feeling within her, but Patricia’s inherent pride prevented her from making any proactive gesture toward Morin.

She maintained the composure of a noblewoman, standing quietly, waiting for the other person to speak first.

Ludwig watched from the side, agonizing internally.

He had intended to create a romantic reunion scene for the two, but instead, they were acting overly polite and silent, creating an atmosphere so awkward it could freeze a person solid.

He continuously shot meaningful glances at Morin, furiously hinting for him to take the initiative and say something to break the deadlock.

“Friedrich, say something!”

His eyes were practically screaming.

Under the intense visual pressure from Ludwig, who was almost breathing fire, Morin felt his scalp prickle.

He racked his brain, finally forcing out a sentence.

He turned to Patricia and asked with a tone he believed to be genuinely sincere:

“Miss von Seeckt.”

Ludwig’s spirits lifted, and he looked at Morin expectantly.

Patricia also slightly raised her eyes, awaiting his next words.

“…Do you know anything about the Magic Crystal Cannon?”

Patricia: “…”

Ludwig: “…”

The air seemed to solidify in that instant.

A crack appeared on Patricia’s beautiful, delicate face.

A look of sheer disbelief flashed across her emerald eyes.

She had absolutely not expected him to ask such a ridiculously out-of-place question.

Yes, as a genius in arcane technology, she was indeed interested in the ‘Magic Crystal Cannon’ Morin spoke of.

But are you sure this is the time to ask about it???

Morin himself was so embarrassed he felt his toes could curl and dig a hole all the way to Dresden.

He regretted the question the moment he asked it, unsure what connection in his brain had misfired to make him ask such a thing.

“I… I suddenly remember I have something to attend to. Please excuse me.”

Morin could no longer endure the suffocating atmosphere. He made a lame excuse and practically fled the balcony.

Watching Morin’s hasty retreat, Ludwig opened his mouth, then simply sighed in resignation.

He turned back, trying to smooth things over for Morin.

“Patricia, don’t mind him. Friedrich probably just returned from the battlefield. His mind is still focused on the war, and he hasn’t quite adjusted to other matters yet…”

Patricia didn’t speak, simply staring quietly in the direction Morin had disappeared.

Morin, having left the balcony, let out a long sigh of relief, feeling as if he had just escaped a brush with death.

The pressure of being around the blonde noblewoman was simply too overwhelming.

After he had recovered his composure somewhat, he decided to find the bar for a drink to calm his nerves.

However, the moment he stepped back into the brightly lit hall, his steps quickly stopped.

His gaze was drawn to a familiar figure in the corner.

It was a young woman in a deep red evening gown with long, chestnut hair pinned up.

She was sitting alone on a sofa in the corner, looking completely out of place amidst the noisy surroundings.

Morin recognized her.

Wasn’t that the young woman he had met at the Imperial Patent Office, the one who wanted to file a patent for the ‘air-cooled light machine gun’?

(End of this Chapter)