It was her twentieth birthday.

The pen pal she thought was dead, for whom she had even built a grave, appeared before her eyes like a gift.

“Does that mean, you killed me three years ago?”

“No, what are you saying? Who said anything about killing…”

The man who had desperately survived on the battlefield to keep his promise to find her.

Enoch, who had been thinking of her throughout the war, turned Ibelia’s lonely birthday into the best birthday of her life.

“Would you like to dance with me?”

“Right now, here?”

“If you think I’m a wonderful man, then please.”

A dance for two, accompanied by a soft hum, followed by a romantic first kiss.

Ibelia, who had fallen hopelessly for him, spent the night with Enoch, promising him a future while he whispered his love to her.

Unaware that he was hiding something from her.

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