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Chapter 12
[Hello, Mister!]
“…Major General?”
Warrant Officer Feast flinched.
“Why are you suddenly lying down?”
“She’s too cute…”
“…Pardon?”
“If you didn’t hear, then forget it.”
Leto pushed himself up from where he had sprawled across his desk.
‘Even being cute should be a crime.’
Clare’s bright, chirpy voice kept replaying in his head like a stuck record.
‘If being cute is a crime, then my sister-in-law deserves a life sentence without parole.’
With a satisfied smile, Leto kept reading the letter.
[I’m Clare Velo, a first-year at Marea School.]
[Thank you for helping me yesterday.]
[As repayment, I invite you to dinner. I’m a child who knows how to return kindness. As makes delicious food—it’s really good. Let’s eat dinner together!]
“Warrant Officer.”
“Yes, Major General.”
“Is it possible she’s actually an angel?”
“…Excuse me?”
“My sister-in-law. I think she might be an angel.”
“……”
Feast nearly asked ‘Are you insane?’ but bit his lips just in time.
‘…Wait. Could she be the Captain’s younger sister?’
Because of military culture, people were careful when mentioning family or lovers—those were potential vulnerabilities. Noah rarely spoke about his family.
But the few anecdotes he did share were hilarious, and since his younger sister was also friends with Colonel Ice’s youngest daughter, she was quite well-known in the unit.
‘But why is he calling the Captain’s younger sister his sister-in-law…?’
As confusion dawned, Feast quickly clamped his hand over his mouth.
‘N-no way!’
Unbothered by the junior officer sweating buckets beside him, Leto continued reading.
[But my sister keeps chattering next to me]
[My sister keeps interrupting]
[My sister is so annoying. Hurry up and get married so you can scold her.]
In the middle of the letter, signs of sabotage were evident.
Some sentences were half-scribbled over with messy lines—but every one of those sentences mentioned the same person.
‘Ha, censorship won’t work on me.’
He could picture Noah fussing irritably, and the thought made Leto chuckle.
[Please come today!]
[P.S. Don’t forget to bring a gift.]
After the earnest farewell, the bottom of the letter was covered in colorful stickers children would love.
“…Huh?”
The letter seemed finished, but behind it was another sheet—Clare’s own drawing.
In it, a man with hair streaked in white and gray held hands with a blonde girl wearing a huge ribbon.
Beside them stood a sharp-eyed blonde woman and a gentle-looking black-haired woman, all smiling together.
“…M-Major General?”
Feast cautiously spoke up.
“Are you… alright?”
He was starting to get nervous. Whenever Leto fell silent, it usually meant his foul temper was about to explode. That reflexively terrified him.
“…Haa…”
But instead, Leto sighed with heartfelt emotion.
Then, jumping up, he carefully placed the precious invitation—more valuable than gold—inside his desk drawer. He even locked it with a key.
“…I want to have a daughter.”
“…Excuse me?”
“Warrant Officer, why can’t I have kids?”
“I didn’t hear that. No, I absolutely didn’t hear that!”
Feast slapped his hands over his ears.
“A-anyway! The Captain asked me to pass on a message!”
The letter itself was one thing, but Noah had also entrusted him with words to deliver.
“I’ll relay it exactly as it was said.”
Feast swallowed hard.
“She said if you keep slacking off like this, today’s invitation from her little sister will end up wasted…”
Thud.
And—Bang!
“Eek!”
Feast flinched, the hulking man trembling. Suddenly he realized he was alone in the office.
“…Ugh.”
Grimacing, he turned to look at the door.
Leto had yanked it open so violently and slammed it shut with such force that the doorknob dangled loose. A crack had even formed along the hinges.
“That crazy mutt…”
Since his superior was gone, Feast muttered the insult freely.
“Who on earth could live with that guy?”
He almost pitied whoever that person might be… until he suddenly froze and buried his face in his hands.
It seemed the one he pitied all along was exactly who he thought it was.
“Captain, please hang in there…!”
Leto Okeanos.
He had three nicknames:
-
Rookie
-
Major General
-
Mad Dog
The first one, Rookie, was reserved for a single person—who happened to be away on assignment at the moment. Depending on that person’s mood, it could change to “idiot,” “weirdo,” or “that guy who looks good only on the outside.”
The second, Major General, was simply his official title and rank, the one most used in the workplace.
But the last one, Mad Dog, was the truest reflection of his nature.
He was called a mad dog for two reasons.
The first: his brutality in battle.
Those who had fought alongside him in the Counteroffensive all swore that rainbows appeared wherever he passed.
Rainbows painted with enemy blood.
That grotesque beauty surfaced again during pirate-clearing operations. Eventually, pirates coined the slang term “rainbow” to describe it—an expression more horrifying than any vulgar curse.
The second reason: his savagery in tearing people apart mentally.
“Sir Delat, this southern region must be a lucky place for your family.”
“……”
“Seven years ago, when your direct relative was executed here for committing crimes, that’s what paved the way for the illustrious knight before me to become the new head of the house, isn’t it?”
His words cut sharper than any blade.
Indeed, seven years ago—
Right before the Adlabore Counteroffensive, the heir of House Delat had committed a grave incident.
He was sentenced to death in a military tribunal, and his successor became none other than the man now seated before Leto.
“Ah, I’m so touched I could cry.”
Leto dabbed his dry eyes with a handkerchief. Of course, not a single tear came out.
“I really thought I had a favorable impression of you, Sir Delat…”
His crimson eyes flashed with a chilling murderous intent.
“…Was it all just my imagination?”
Dropping the act, Leto smiled innocently.
Like a predator musing over how best to torment its prey, the mad dog tilted his lips in a crooked grin.
“……”
“……”
The royal knights broke out in cold sweat.
They had no excuse.
But in truth, most of them felt wronged.
After sweeping military reforms, the navy, army, and royal knights were all officially granted equal standing. It was written into law.
Yet the knights quietly resented this.
They prided themselves on their far older history, and being composed mostly of nobles, they looked down on the other forces.
So, this situation felt humiliating to them.
“…Major General Okeanos.”
At last, Sir Delat spoke up from the sofa where he had been feigning composure.
“Major General?”
Leto gave a short, mocking laugh.
“Mind your manners.”
“…Major General.”
The knight corrected himself, his voice betraying a slight tremor.
But he quickly took a deep breath, smiling as if it were nothing. Leto chuckled.
“This exchange was meant to promote harmony and friendship between our organizations, was it not?”
“That’s true.”
“There were mistakes, but we hope the navy will be generous in its understanding.”
“Hmmm…”
Instead of replying, Leto pretended to deliberate.
His fingers tapped rhythmically against the sofa’s armrest—so precisely that they matched the ticking of the wall clock.
“…Should I?”
He glanced over his shoulder.
“What do you think, Warrant Officer?”
“I believe your decision is the correct one, Major General.”
Standing at attention a step behind, Feast answered with a blank expression.
“Relax, I won’t bite you for sharing your opinion.”
Leto gestured casually.
“Speak freely. You met them before I did, after all.”
“Then I shall be frank.”
Feast dipped his head.
“Sir Delat is correct. This exchange is intended to build friendship between the navy and the royal knights. If a large conflict breaks out, His Majesty the King will surely be greatly troubled.”
“Indeed, indeed. His Majesty would worry.”
Grinning, Leto nodded.
Then he extended his hand.
“Let’s see this exchange through smoothly and amicably between the navy and the royal knights.”
The menacing aura from earlier was gone, replaced with a sunny, genial smile.
“…Thank you for your understanding.”
Sir Delat shook his hand.
***
“What do you think?”
Inside the shooting range, Noah loaded bullets into her issued revolver one by one as she asked.
“Well, yeah, it’s a strange situation,” Ami muttered, cleaning the cylinder chambers of her own revolver before loading rounds.
“The royal knights are practically the King’s direct subordinates. For them to come all the way south, even behaving rudely like this… means they’ve got an ulterior motive.”
Click.
Noah’s revolver snapped shut, fully loaded and ready to fire.
“…They must be plotting something.”
“Ugh, so much for chivalry.”
Ami clucked her tongue and offered a prayer:
O Mother in Heaven, please let those arrogant fools stub their little toes on dresser corners every morning when they wake.
“Seriously, what kind of grudge do these city bastards have against the South?”
“They cause trouble every time they come, don’t they?”
“Exactly!”
Ami slammed her fist on the table, scowling.
“Seven years ago—oh, that was a Delat too, wasn’t it? One of their knights got drunk and burned a ship!”
The charred wreck had since been placed beside the memorial tower within headquarters.
No wonder the navy didn’t think fondly of the royal knights.
“Talk about a cursed connection…”
Having finished cleaning, Ami began loading her revolver.
Watching silently, Noah murmured:
“…It might have something to do with Vice Admiral Flancy.”
“…What?”
Ami’s eyes widened, darting around. Luckily, no one else was nearby.
“Hey, don’t joke about that! You know how famous the Vice Admiral is for his good nature!”
Like any military organization, the navy was typically conservative and strict about hierarchy.
But thanks to the influential backing of the eccentric Adverlo family, it was relatively more relaxed compared to other branches.
Which was why there were plenty of soldiers who didn’t feel very “military” at all.
“Admiral Flancy is a savior!”
“Not that much…”
“Come on! Thanks to him, the food in the mess hall has gotten way better!”
“And what’s wrong with calling it properly by its name—mess hall food?”
“That’s not the point!”
What Ami meant was that Vice Admiral Flancy was an exceptional leader—one who prioritized welfare and the well-being of his soldiers, unlike most superiors.
