Chapter 11
“I don’t listen to Imperial songs.”
“Then you mean you listen to foreign songs?”
“Something like that.”
I had a feeling he was just brushing off the question, but I didn’t care—because the moment Morton said that, both pairs of eyes turned to me. This time, I was the one caught off guard.
“Helen, don’t you know any songs? The captain doesn’t like Imperial songs.”
So what? Seriously, it was ridiculous! Rose and Maelle wanted me to sing something in my own language. They didn’t even treat me as a foreigner most of the time, so why now? Honestly, I was a bit annoyed, but I was in a good mood and didn’t want to ruin the atmosphere, so I just sang whatever came to mind.
The song I sang was a folk tune called “To Sasha”. It’s a dull little song about wanting to take someone named Sasha to the seaside and show them seagulls and a lighthouse. But apparently, singing that song was a huge mistake.
Or maybe just singing a colonial song in front of the perfect Imperial officer Morton was my real mistake. His face darkened quickly as he listened. Before I even realized something was wrong, Morton went pale, clamped a hand over his mouth, and fled.
Again, I only sang a song— and I even picked something perfectly wholesome! The guy just overreacted.
But still, isn’t that infuriating? He treated me and my language like they were disgusting—right in front of my squadmates. I never expected him to see me as his equal, but I also didn’t think he was that nasty.
Because of that incident, I started seeing Morton in a different light. If I could, I’d flip him the finger.
**”Dear Helen,
I agree—Morton was definitely in the wrong. You only sang a song, and yet he reacted like that! That was plain rude.
But don’t you think it’s strange? It’s hard to get sick over a peaceful, ordinary song. Maybe there was another reason? If it’s just a misunderstanding, maybe it would be better to clear it up.”**
**”Angel-like Enoch,
No, there’s no other reason. He probably just thought hearing me sing in my own language was disgusting. That’s just how Imperial people are.”**
By the way, there’s something I never told you. Helen Atwell isn’t my real name. You can’t enlist voluntarily unless you take on an Imperial-style name, so I just made one up. My real name is Camille Laurent.
Even though my real name is Camille Laurent, I’d like you to keep calling me Helen—at least here.
“Atwell.”
Startled by the sudden deep voice, Helen quickly hid the letter and stood up. Morton was looking at her suspiciously.
“Come with me. We need to talk.”
Morton didn’t take her to his suffocating office. Instead, they went to a small forest near headquarters.
“About that time before… I want to apologize.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
In truth, Helen knew exactly what he meant but pretended otherwise.
“I didn’t mean to ignore your heritage… your identity.”
“You don’t need to apologize, sir.”
“I know your feelings were hurt.”
“What does it matter? I’m your subordinate. A soldier moves on from things like this.”
Morton’s gaze was calm. “I want to make peace with you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re my squadmate. We’ll be flying together, and you’re someone I’m responsible for.”
“It wasn’t because of your language or your song. It was a specific word in the lyrics. That’s all.”
“What word?”
Morton opened his mouth several times but couldn’t say it.
“Just… know it was a certain word.”
“It wasn’t obscene. It was just an ordinary word.”
“It was perfectly ordinary—just not for me.”
“I don’t understand. What kind of word could you not even say aloud?”
