🔊 TTS Settings
CHAPTER 05
Chloe hesitated for a moment and lowered her voice.
“Why? What about my face?”
“…Nothing.”
“Is it that bad?”
“……”
“…That bad?”
To be honest, it looked like a corpse, but Alvin simply turned his gaze toward the window. There was a trace of courtesy in his gesture, but it was arguably a more decisive refusal than words.
Chloe rubbed her face in confusion. If a man who rarely even initiated conversations had blocked her path just to say something, then she must really look awful.
Feeling oddly drained, she spoke up.
“Was it noisy yesterday?”
“Enough to know there was a fire.”
She nodded silently.
“They seemed to put it out quickly.”
“Yeah. It wasn’t a big fire.”
Before she realized it, Chloe had gradually lowered her guard toward this enemy soldier. So the conversation flowed without much tension, and she found herself speaking more freely than intended.
“But it’s still strange.”
“What is?”
“I really saw it at dawn…”
She stopped mid-sentence, snapping back to her senses. Her expression hardened instantly, pale and stern.
“What am I even telling you right now?”
Of all people—a Pitzmark soldier.
Chloe sighed at herself and pushed her short hair behind her ear. But Alvin seemed more curious about something else than the interrupted conversation. Watching her faintly trembling fingertips, he asked:
“You don’t usually sleep much, do you? You must do night watch sometimes.”
“No. Not really. I’m not medical staff or a soldier.”
She honestly admitted she was basically doing odd jobs here, then added:
“I’m just a bit of a night owl…”
She trailed off, but Alvin seemed to understand immediately and nodded.
“So that’s why your face sometimes looks like that.”
“Like what? I don’t think I look that bad.”
From him came a muttered remark, almost to himself, as he looked back toward the window.
“You really don’t understand context, do you.”
Chloe slowly lowered the hand that had been rubbing her face. Her eyes turned cold again. That kind of remark stung.
Alvin glanced at her and said:
“What? Do you need me to tell you you’re pretty?”
“I didn’t mean that. There’s no need for empty words.”
Chloe let out a resigned sigh as she touched her face again. She decided she must have been hallucinating from lack of sleep.
Unaware of all the reasons, Alvin kept watching her. He could not understand everything, but he could clearly sense that Chloe was genuinely in a poor mood today.
***
The incident of the fire was put behind them, and peaceful days continued for a while at the Weltington medical base. The military withdrew most of its forces, leaving only a small contingent behind, while the doctors treated patients, the patients recovered, and Chloe devoted herself to cleanliness.
A very minor incident broke that peace a few days later—on the 211th day since the war began.
Soldiers on patrol around the base discovered an enemy soldier collapsed and bleeding. He claimed to be a deserter, but he was transported to a nearby unit and subjected to intensive interrogation. The stricter measures were likely a result of the disturbance that had occurred at the base a few days earlier.
Chloe glanced at the man lying pitifully on the cot and muttered:
“I wonder if he was tortured.”
“……”
“It does seem like it, doesn’t it?”
The man’s face was definitely different from when he had first been found.
“Alvin. Could you check on him sometimes?”
“Why would I?”
As if annoyed at being asked to do even this, irritation flickered in Alvin’s eyes. Chloe hesitated slightly. While their conversations had become more relaxed over time, she still hadn’t forgotten the gaze he had when they first met—the overwhelming, almost crushing presence that didn’t feel ordinary.
Still, most people here were on her side, so there was no reason to fear Alvin.
Chloe lowered her voice.
“Don’t Pitzmark people even understand the word camaraderie?”
Alvin frowned and lifted one corner of his mouth.
“That’s not something you should be saying to me. If we start building camaraderie here, which side do you think would end up in trouble?”
He reminded her of their positions. Chloe nodded a few times.
“Fair enough.”
“……”
“Me being kind to someone from Edelin already looks suspicious enough. If I, a civilian from an enemy country, start taking care of your supposed ‘traitor,’ then what would that make him?”
“……”
“It would just turn into branding him.”
The man was not a traitor, but a common deserter. Chloe had subtly adjusted the wording in her favor.
Soldiers wounded in battle would not look kindly upon someone who fled while injured. Though Pitzmark soldiers were being separated for order’s sake, no one had anticipated this problem. At this rate, the man might be beaten to death by his own side at night.
“I just don’t want to deal with cleaning up a corpse over something like this.”
After a long silence, Alvin said:
“Now that I think about it, you’re quite considerate. You’d fit right in here.”
“Don’t say embarrassing things like that.”
Chloe accepted his sarcasm without complaint. A faint laugh might have escaped him, but he eventually nodded shortly.
The two representatives of opposing sides ended their exchange and agreed to leave it at that. A peaceful truce.
Somewhere far away, the battle continued. The sound of artillery echoed endlessly. Yet because the front lines were deadlocked, people paid it no mind and tried to rest.
Alvin scanned his surroundings with calm eyes and stepped forward. He stopped in front of the deserter’s cot and tapped his shoulder. The soldier tried to rise upon recognizing him but immediately clutched his abdomen.
“C-comm—”
“Talk outside.”
Alvin cut him off and checked the room again. They quietly walked outside to avoid attention.
Once under the trees, a guard’s gaze followed them, but no one intervened. After confirming they were out of sight, Alvin finally spoke.
“Ducraine, were you tortured?”
“I was just hit a few times. It’s nothing serious.”
“Edelin people are soft.”
He meant that a few blows shouldn’t be enough to make someone leak military secrets. In Pitzmark, he thought, they would have started by cutting a few things off.
It wasn’t wrong, but Ducraine said nothing. “A few hits” had been anything but mild. His bruised face made it hard to pretend otherwise.
Alvin glanced at his side—the bandaged wound he had received before arriving at the base.
“And that?”
“Derek shot it well. No lasting effects.”
“Don’t believe that. His aim’s terrible.”
Ducraine lowered his head slightly. Alvin still had more to say.
“Do you know the fire mage from the 1st Division used magic recently?”
“Yes. We were surprised when we heard.”
“Using something like that without proper aim… it’s reckless. Our own survivors were there.”
“…Yes, we know.”
“If you can’t control it, you shouldn’t use it at all.”
Alvin narrowed his eyes.
“That bastard… might have done it on purpose.”
“Sir… did something happen that day?”
Ducraine asked carefully. Alvin didn’t answer. Instead, his gaze drifted elsewhere.
There, Chloe was speaking with base administrators.
The person who had guided him here without hesitation.
Pale skin that rarely saw sunlight. Black hair contrasting sharply with it. Sharp features that made her expression seem even more sensitive. A narrow jawline.
As Chloe gestured lightly while explaining something, her long sleeves slid down to her elbows, revealing skin even paler than her face.
Despite the harsh sunlight, she always insisted on long sleeves and long pants. Her hair, barely covering her ears, looked like it had been cut by her own hand.
And after observing her closely, Alvin thought he understood her intention. She was trying to go unnoticed among people where short hair was common. To avoid being sexualized. To prevent that possibility entirely.
A sensible strategy—but he suspected it didn’t work as well as she thought. With her slight build and loose clothing, she didn’t look masculine. She looked younger. Not that she seemed particularly young, given how firmly she handled unruly soldiers with a few words.
Ducraine, noticing Alvin’s silence, asked cautiously:
“Do you know her, sir?”
Alvin nodded lightly.
“Edelin civilian.”
“Pardon?”
“…or so she insists.”
He let out a short, incredulous laugh. She didn’t look like someone suited for a battlefield. Even holding a gun seemed awkward on her.
The real question was why someone like her was here.
After hesitating, Ducraine finally spoke again.
“Sir, she’s not just a civilian. I mean—she is, but…”
“But?”
“At first I didn’t recognize her, but she’s a playwright. Possibly also a composer.”
That surprised Alvin enough to make him look at Ducraine. Then he exhaled a small laugh.
Somehow, it made sense.
The Chloe he had observed so far—calm on the surface but sharp underneath—fit a certain stereotype. It was an unfair assumption, but stereotypes about people like her often worked that way.
“So that explains it.”
“Huh?”
“She has thorns in her words. Didn’t you notice?”
Ducraine looked flustered. “I’ve never even spoken to her.”
“What, like a hedgehog.”
“Has she been rude to you, sir?”
Alvin tilted his head slightly.
“No. Not exactly.”
Then he shook his head.
“Still… I can’t imagine her writing cheerful music.”
Ducraine blinked.
“Sir, she actually writes children’s plays. Fairy tales.”
Alvin fell silent.
“…Seriously?”
He looked back at Ducraine as if he had just heard something absurd.
“Can that woman really compose anything in a major key?”
Ducraine added awkwardly:
“She also visits Pitzmark sometimes to check stage productions.”
“…What?”
“My daughter’s at that age where she likes those things.”
Ducraine smiled proudly, but with his battered face it only made him look more pitiful.
Alvin stared at him with mild disbelief, as if judging his subordinate who had married young and gotten into trouble.
