Chapter 16

“Second Lieutenant…”

Sergeant Gennadi Vilev called out to her.

Aethlyn, already feeling thoroughly dejected, answered absentmindedly.

“Don’t rush me. I’ll go send the cancellation letter right away—”

“My leave.”

“Hm?”

“If I do get leave… will you be going too, Second Lieutenant?”

His voice was steady and unreadable, somewhere between a question and a simple statement.

“Are you asking? If so… yes. I’ll be going too. My name’s already on the list.”

“…”

An odd silence settled between them.

Holding a clipboard in one hand, Aethlyn stood there awkwardly, looking up at Gennadi.

His expression was utterly serious.

His lips were tight with tension. The muscles along his jaw twitched.

‘Is he… actually thinking about it?’

He was.

That was unmistakably the face of someone hesitating, seriously weighing whether to do something or not.

The moment she saw it, an inexplicable impulse welled up inside her.

Before she even realized it, the words had already left her mouth.

“Sergeant Vilev.”

“…”

“How about going with me?”

“…”

“The leave, I mean. You said you wouldn’t have anything to do anyway. Assuming Headquarters approves it… you could spend a day with me.”

‘I’m insane.’

The instant the words escaped her lips, regret crashed over her.

What in the world was she supposed to do on leave with that man?

Watch a play with a Wildman?

If she could, she would have bitten off her own tongue.

Still…

‘He’ll refuse anyway.’

There was a one hundred percent chance Sergeant Vilev would reject the offer.

“Yes.”

“…Hm?”

‘What?’

As if he’d been waiting for this exact moment, the man nodded without the slightest hesitation.

“Yes, Second Lieutenant. I’d like that.”

“I’ll go with you on leave.”

His gaze slowly lifted from the ground to meet hers.

Those irritatingly clear golden eyes looked straight at Aethlyn.

Dear Sister,

How’s life in the trenches? Isn’t it boring?

Your loving brother,
Arthur

That was all the expensive stationery contained.

Only those three short sentences.

A dry laugh escaped Aethlyn.

“This could’ve been a telegram. Did he really have to send a letter?”

She couldn’t help feeling dumbfounded.

Not that she disliked it.

‘He didn’t send it just to tease me. Arthur doesn’t even know how to joke.’

There wasn’t a trace of mockery in the letter.

This was one hundred percent Arthur being sincere.

He was genuinely curious whether Aethlyn was enjoying herself after leaving the estate for the battlefield.

“If I told him I was, would he actually try to follow me?”

And “Dear Sister”?

That made her skin crawl.

Grumbling under her breath, Aethlyn carefully folded Arthur’s letter and tucked it away inside her locker drawer.

Perhaps because she hadn’t seen him in so long, she felt the faintest stir of affection for her usually bothersome half-brother.

After sealing the drawer with a locking spell that couldn’t even be opened with a key, she stood up.

Besides Arthur’s letter, the drawer was filled with correspondence from all over.

Letters from her classmates at the Magic Academy, relatives from both her father’s and mother’s families…

Even one from her stepmother—the woman who openly treated her as a rival.

Though anyone could tell it had been ghostwritten.

The only letter missing was one from her father, Duke Wintercrown.

By now, news of her successful trench raid must have reached him.

Even though Aethlyn had already written to him twice, he’d never once replied personally.

‘Don’t be pathetic, Aethlyn Wintercrown.’

She sharply turned her head away.

Nothing was more pitiful than desperately craving praise from her father.

‘That’s not why I joined the army.’

At that moment, the images returned.

The horrific sight after the operation.

The bodies of her fallen soldiers.

“Urgh…”

Nausea rose into her throat.

But she’d barely eaten over the past few days, so nothing came up.

“Second Lieutenant!”

Someone called from outside.

Aethlyn hurriedly straightened her uniform.

Within moments she once again looked every bit the impeccable officer.

She picked up her military leather bag.

Today was the day she would be leaving for Parieri, the largest city in Pharos, on leave.

Together with Sergeant Gennadi Vilev of the Fenrir Detachment.

‘This isn’t going to be easy.’

The gruesome images tormenting her finally faded, only to be replaced by a different kind of anxiety.

Going on leave with Sergeant Vilev.

Well, they’d only be spending one day together out of the four-day, three-night leave.

‘What was I thinking back then? Why did I have to stick my nose into this?’

Was it pity?

Curiosity?

Or simply guilt?

Whatever the reason, once a noble made a promise, they couldn’t take it back.

At this point, the best thing she could do was stop overthinking it.

After packing her modest luggage, Aethlyn stepped out behind the trench.

A wide open field stretched before her.

A large supply wagon waited there.

Standing nearby was Sergeant Vilev.

The moment she saw him, she blinked in surprise.

He looked far neater and more presentable than usual.

A perfectly pressed coat.

A military cap with a visor.

Even his boots seemed freshly polished.

If not for those unnervingly vivid golden eyes and his slightly delinquent slouch, she could’ve believed he was a recruiting officer.

Or perhaps the rogue protagonist of a picaresque novel.

Either image suited him.

Sensing her gaze, the sergeant greeted her with a slight nod.

“Second Lieutenant.”

“Sergeant Vilev.”

Other soldiers heading out on leave had gathered farther away in small groups.

Their reluctance to stand anywhere near a Wildman was painfully obvious.

Like an isolated island, Gennadi stood alone.

Aethlyn quickly walked over to him.

“Did you pack everything?”

“…Yes.”

As she stepped close enough that their arms could almost brush, Gennadi’s golden eyes shifted awkwardly to the side.

Aethlyn jerked her chin toward him.

“I don’t see a backpack. Did you really pack?”

“Here.”

The sergeant pulled open the inside of his coat.

Pointing at the large inner pockets sewn into the lining, he replied,

“Everything I need is here. Identification, cash, toothbrush.”

“All right, all right. I get it. You’re prepared.”

As Aethlyn hid her bulky military duffel behind her back, she changed the subject.

“By the way, do you know why they sent a wagon instead of a car?”

“No idea.”

While the two chatted, a bearded man and a soldier emerged from behind the wagon, arguing loudly.

“What do you mean? Nobody said I’d be hauling a Wildman!”

“And what’s the problem with that?”

“It’s bad luck! Back in Pharos, they say disaster follows if you get too close to a race that smells of blood.”

“Don’t start quoting some ridiculous backwater superstition. You’re getting paid, so stop complaining and load everyone up!”

“It’s not superstition…! What if the horses get spooked? The moment they catch even a glimpse of a Wildman’s shadow, they’ll drop dead!”

The instant the driver blurted that out, his eyes met Aethlyn’s and Gennadi’s.

Silence fell.

Aethlyn quickly shot a sidelong glance at Sergeant Vilev beside her.

‘Good grief… saying it’s bad luck right in front of him.’

Instinctively realizing it was time for her to step in, she moved between the driver and the soldier.

“I’m Second Lieutenant Wintercrown of Delta Company. Is there a problem here?”

After saluting, the soldier lowered his voice.

“The driver who was supposed to take today’s personnel on leave to the station suddenly refused. He keeps insisting it’ll bring bad luck if he carries a Wildman…”

The driver immediately snapped back in Estan.

“That’s not what I meant! It’s bad for the horses’ health. They may be dumb animals, but they’ve got good instincts. Just because something walks on two legs doesn’t make it huma—”

“They are human.”

Aethlyn cut him off coldly.

“Wildmen are people. They’re soldiers of the Morning Star Alliance, and he’s one of my men.”

There was no point arguing any further.

She looked straight at the driver and spoke in a low, firm voice.

“Load everyone first. If there’s a problem afterward, we’ll deal with it then.”

“W-Well…”

“Do you see this insignia?”

She pointed at the patch above the left side of her chest.

It bore the flag of the Republic of Esta with the small pentacle emblem of the Magic Army.

“I’m a Magic Army officer. If anything goes wrong, I’ll take full responsibility.”

People in Pharos feared magic.

But it was a different kind of fear than their prejudice toward Wildmen.

It was closer to reverence.

The moment the driver realized she was a mage, his eyes darted around uncertainly.

His voice trembled.

“I-If that’s the case… then I suppose I don’t have much choice.”

“Good.”

Just as the matter seemed settled, a horse let out a cheerful snort behind them.

Prrrrhh.

Thinking something had happened, Aethlyn quickly turned around.

A rather interesting sight unfolded before her.