Chapter 9.
Greta hadn’t been a hero from the start.
Back then, barely anyone even knew her name. Percy had only just been commissioned as a second lieutenant, and Greta was the first squadron leader he was assigned to obey.
A squadron leader. A captain.
To the Air Force—and to Percy—that was all she meant at the time.
“What’s your name?”
Perhaps it was the nerves from being deployed into the middle of a war. Percy swallowed dryly. In front of him stood the squadron leader, her wheat-colored hair pulled back into a perfectly neat bun. Her sunglasses hid her expression, making it impossible to guess what she was thinking.
“Second Lieutenant Percy Collins, ma’am.”
“Collins. Nice name. Easy to say.”
Greta had been perched on the wing of a plane, reading through some paperwork with her subordinates lingering nearby. At some point, she turned her head toward him.
She pushed her sunglasses up.
Eyes the color of a clear blue sky stared back at him—no exaggeration. They were the exact shade of the heavens stretching above their heads.
A cloudless sky.
A pilot with the sky captured in her eyes looked at him and grinned.
“But I like Percy better. Sounds… endearing. Mind if I just call you Percy, Lieutenant?”
“Yes, of course. Please do.”
“Percy, I’m Greta Holt. I’ll be the one taking you into the sky. I look forward to working with you.”
Greta grabbed his hand firmly and shook it.
“Relax your shoulders. When you’re on the ground, you rest. You’ll have plenty of chances to tense up once you’re in the air. Don’t waste your energy.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Percy added awkwardly,
“I’ll… try.”
“I’ll try as well.”
Greta lowered her sunglasses again and returned her attention to the papers.
“To make sure I don’t end up liking you.”
“…Sorry?”
She simply gave a mysterious smile and waved him off.
“Go on, Percy. I shouldn’t steal your time—you need to get used to the base.”
That was his first meeting with Greta. Percy sensed something in her—an aura specific to veteran pilots. It was something a fledgling pilot like him could never imitate.
Greta smelled of the sky.
A scent that made his heartbeat flutter for reasons he couldn’t explain.
From time to time, Percy thought about what she had said.
“I’ll try not to like you.”
What did she mean by that?
Was there something wrong—with him?
One of the nearby pilots, who had overheard, nudged him with a knowing smile.
“Don’t worry about it. She didn’t mean anything serious.”
“She didn’t?”
“Sure. You know how it is. Pilots never know when they’ll die.”
Ah.
So that’s what she meant.
“The war’s dragging on. Lots of pilots never come back. And the Captain… she’s the type who gets attached. Picture it: she likes someone, and then they don’t come home. She’s protecting herself. Especially from bright-eyed rookies who are too easy to get fond of.”
The pilot bumped Percy’s shoulder teasingly.
Percy couldn’t decide if he should feel relieved or not. It wasn’t that he’d made a bad first impression—she was trying not to care.
“If she keeps getting her heart broken, even the Captain won’t last. It’s her survival strategy.”
Greta was someone who cared deeply.
It didn’t take long for Percy to notice. After every mission, she’d pat her men on the back—hard enough to sting—as if to say she was relieved they had all made it back.
After Percy’s first aerial battle, she pulled him into a crushing embrace, pounding his back like she was grateful he hadn’t been lost.
He slowly, imperceptibly, began to be colored by her presence. At that time, Percy believed what he felt was admiration—nothing more.
But he soon realized it wasn’t just admiration.
One night, Greta informed them—in her usual calm tone—that they were assigned to a nighttime bombing run.
For Percy, it was a first.
“It’s simple. We cut the engine so they can’t hear us and glide over their base. Once we see the target, we drop the bombs.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You’ll do fine.”
Encouraged, Percy climbed onto the aircraft. Four planes rose into the night sky. The pitch-black darkness swallowed them whole.
Greta led the formation, as always.
At the signal, everyone shut off their engines. Silence wrapped around them.
A bomb dropped.
BOOM.
Lights began to flicker across the enemy base. Sirens wailed.
Then came more explosions.
BOOM. BOOM.
Spotlights scanned the sky, searching for them. Anti-aircraft guns roared.
All they needed now was to return safely.
That was when a spotlight caught one of the squadron’s planes.
Machine-gun fire erupted.
—Do not waver.
Greta’s voice crackled through the radio.
—Stay in formation. If you panic and fall out of line, you’ll die for real.
But the spotlight wouldn’t let go. Percy’s pulse hammered. Someone was going to get hit. He knew it.
What if the Captain gets shot down?
What if I lose her?
Percy acted before he could think. He broke formation.
- Collins! What the hell are you doing?!
“I’ll draw their fire! Get out of range!”
–Don’t be ridiculous—!
He couldn’t hear the rest. He pulled off dangerous maneuvers, evading gunfire. Judging from the silence, the others had escaped.
Just as he prepared to leave the danger zone—
BOOM.
His right wing burst into flames. He couldn’t make it back. He guided the dying aircraft as far as it would go and crash-landed in a field near enemy territory.
He barely managed to eject. Only then did he notice blood soaking his arm and chest.
Was this the end?
He slumped against the wreckage, struggling to breathe.
Then—
“Collins!”
He turned.
Greta was marching toward him, leaving her landed plane behind her.
Even in the darkness, he could see her expression clearly for the first time.
She was furious.
If he hadn’t been injured, she probably would have punched him.
“Are you insane? Do you have a death wish? You disobeyed my direct order and left the formation! Do you realize what you’ve done?!”
“I’m sorry.”
“I almost lost you!”
Her voice cracked—not with authority, but with emotion.
Greta hadn’t come back because he was her subordinate.
She came back because she couldn’t bear to leave him.
She forced down her emotions and crouched beside him.
“You’re hurt. Can you walk?”
“I can.”
“Don’t you dare pass out on the way. Get up—we’re going home.”
Supported by her, Percy climbed into her two-seater plane, cramming into the cramped remaining space.
“Percy.”
“Yes, Captain?”
“Don’t ever do that again.”
“……”
“Your mission is to stay alive until the war ends. Beside me. Don’t forget.”
“…Understood.”
Greta said nothing more. The plane rose back into the night sky.
Percy admired her.
And soon, that admiration turned into something forbidden. The more he hid it, the more it festered. The pain only grew sharper.
Because forbidden love doesn’t disappear just because you try to bury it.
