Chapter 02
Rear of the 2nd Front of the Edelin Army. Wellington Medical Base.
Morning comes even on the battlefield. Though the medical base was quite far from the front lines, the distant boom of artillery could always be faintly heard.
As always, Chloe read a letter with that sound as her background noise. Letters arrived about once every ten days along with relief supplies, and today’s sender was Andrea.
Chloe. You’re doing well, right? It’s already been over half a year since you left.
At this rate, I feel like the year might actually change before you come back.
As usual, there wasn’t much to the content. All correspondence going in and out of the base was subject to censorship. Sensitive questions and answers were always blacked out.
Andrea’s letter, which had begun with a fairly warm greeting, soon turned into complaints and sulking.
I mean, if you got your heart broken, you should’ve just cut your hair or gone out drinking with us like a normal person.
Why on earth would you suddenly join the army? Huh? How does anyone even think like that?
…
Seriously, when are you coming back? Benjamin doesn’t say it, but he’s clearly worried about you too.
We’re all waiting for you, so please just come back already, Chloe.
— Your soulmate, Andrea.
Folding the letter, Chloe muttered to herself,
“I told you clearly—I didn’t join the army, I volunteered for a relief organization…”
She hadn’t come to a military unit, nor had she come because of heartbreak. But no matter how many times she corrected them, among the triplets, she had become “the woman who enlisted after getting dumped.”
They probably kept making up nonsense like that because they wanted to express their concern in a lighter way. Realizing there was no point in explaining further, she decided to postpone her reply.
After placing the letter in a drawer, Chloe picked up a notebook instead. Dipping her pen in ink, she wrote down the date, savoring the scratch of pen on paper. It was the only luxury she could enjoy on the battlefield—and, personally, the most important part of her daily routine.
Edelin Army: 8 returned to duty, 13 repatriated due to inability to fight, 9 deceased within the treatment facility.
…Pitzmark Army: 4 newly admitted, none repatriated, 2 deceased.
— Recorded by Chloe Liberta on the 2nd Front.
Placing a bookmark, Chloe closed the cover and stepped out of the room.
Walking down the corridor, she soon entered a large ward filled with rows of beds. Most of the wounded soldiers were already awake, likely after the medical staff and medics had made their rounds.
She approached the window and first pulled open the stifling curtains.
“Chloe, good morning.”
“Mm. You’ve taken off your bandages.”
“Yeah, but my leg still aches.”
“It’s not going to heal overnight. Be grateful to God that it ended like this.”
“Yes, yes. Praise be, priestess.”
“I’m actually not religious.”
The soldiers, now familiar with her, chattered idly about trivial matters. Their mouths itched to talk, and they were restless. Chloe responded where appropriate and ignored the rest as she walked between the beds.
The Third Pitzmark War.
What was expected to be a short conflict had turned into an unexpectedly balanced struggle. The front lines advanced and retreated repeatedly, producing casualties on both sides. Because of that, Chloe Liberta had been staying at this relief facility longer than she had originally planned.
By now, she could roughly assess a patient’s condition at a glance. Still, she wasn’t someone who seemed particularly suited to this place. After all, not just anyone could come here simply by volunteering.
Civilians with medical knowledge, retired soldiers with combat experience, religious personnel, active soldiers guarding the base—even those with exceptional physical strength.
She didn’t belong to any of those categories. The only reason she was here was because the man in charge of this medical base was the Marquis of Wellington—a devoted humanitarian who had supported Chloe when she had nothing.
In the end, if you didn’t have blazing talent, you needed connections to accomplish anything. Perhaps even with talent, without connections, you could do nothing at all.
As Chloe pondered this rather realistic thought while tidying up scattered bandages and cotton on the floor—
“Hey, Chloe.”
“Yeah, what is it?”
“I think something’s wrong with me.”
“…What is it? I’ll call a doctor.”
She paused for a moment before moving, but the soldier grabbed her thin wrist with a mischievous grin.
“Not that. I think this is broken.”
“……”
“Guess I haven’t used it in too long.”
“……”
“So what should I do?”
He jerked his chin toward the bulge in his lower body, clearly eager to spout vulgar nonsense early in the morning.
Unfortunately for him, Chloe wasn’t particularly affected.
The young soldier didn’t seem especially frightening or disgusting to her. In fact, most soldiers were younger than she was. Of course, she knew well that even boys who still looked immature could turn into ruthless beasts on the battlefield—or at night.
Still, she couldn’t help but sigh as she stared at him for a long moment.
“Hmm, you know…”
If only we could focus that mindset entirely on fighting, maybe this war would’ve ended sooner. Or maybe not. But at the very least, wouldn’t you have been less injured?
She sighed.
“I haven’t been here long, but I’m not nice enough to put up with that kind of talk.”
Not exactly something to be proud of, but it was the truth.
“And there’s no one here who deserves to hear that from you. So why don’t you stop at that and look elsewhere?”
“Elsewhere where?”
Chloe replied dryly,
“You’ve got your right hand, don’t you?”
But then she noticed his left hand was bandaged. After staring at it for a moment with a complicated expression, she added,
“Were you left-handed, by any chance?”
“…Huh?”
“As for being ambidextrous… honestly, for now, I’d rather not.”
Scripture says that the right hand should not know what the left hand is doing. Yet why is it that people who cheat never seem to have the brains not to get caught? If you’re immoral and stupid, that’s truly hopeless.
Of course, she knew full well that the noble phrase wasn’t meant to be used like this.
At that moment, she heard a faint sound—like air escaping. It was very quiet, but Chloe, with her sharp hearing, turned her head.
There stood a man with striking blond hair and blue eyes, looking in her direction. He was an enemy soldier she had brought to the base a few days ago.
His body was still wrapped in bandages, and small scratches marked his face.
But compared to before, he looked much more presentable. Back when they had dragged each other across the dirt to reach this place, both of them had looked like beggars.
Chloe narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
Did he just laugh? At that guy? Or at me? …Well, I suppose it’s embarrassing that our army is like this.
The trace of a smile lingering in his eyes was faint. Still, Chloe subtly stepped in front of him. She could feel several sharp gazes turning toward him.
Separating the majority of Edelin soldiers from the minority of Pitzmark soldiers was a rule of the facility. But due to space constraints, that rule was often broken. Whenever that happened, a subtle tension filled the ward.
It wasn’t surprising that even trivial disputes between people could escalate into major fights. And if that person was your enemy—someone who had pointed a gun at your friends just days ago—then it was even more inevitable.
A friend of my friend is my friend.
An enemy of my friend is my enemy.
That was one of the fundamental principles driving war. Chloe understood that deeply.
She scanned the surroundings with tense eyes. And surprisingly, what broke the tense atmosphere in an instant… was simple violence.
An Edelin officer stood up from his bed on one leg, grabbed a crutch beside him—
Crack.
The sickening sound of something breaking froze everyone in place. Chloe flinched. The one he struck was the very soldier who had been spouting nonsense at her.
“Don’t cause trouble in here.”
The crowd’s attention scattered faster than retreating soldiers. Not because they lost interest, but because the beating didn’t stop after one or two hits—it went on past five, past ten.
Crack, thud, crack, thump. The sounds of pain continued endlessly. Hierarchy was everything to soldiers, and provoking an officer rarely ended well.
“And you—why does a kid like you talk like some sleazy old man? It’s disgusting just listening to you.”
“…Uh, well…”
Listening quietly, Chloe let out a small murmur.
She didn’t have particularly high expectations of people. She had even fewer illusions about the opposite sex. But saying that felt a bit unfair to innocent middle-aged men everywhere.
The officer—one of those middle-aged men—then clasped his hands and gestured toward Chloe, silently apologizing on the soldier’s behalf and asking to let things slide.
Not wanting to cause trouble first thing in the morning, Chloe nodded.
As she walked away, she casually glanced back over her shoulder.
The enemy soldier was no longer looking at anyone.
At some point, he had turned his gaze to the window, staring outside with those same unreadable eyes.
