Chapter 34
* * *
D-2403 days until discharge.
Training on the parade ground.
As usual, I gripped a sword instead of a gun and swung it again and again, channeling aura through the blade.
Even if my main weapon was a gun, it was always a good idea to practice with other weapons too. That’s why I sometimes trained in swordsmanship like this.
Of course, today I had a different reason for holding a sword.
“Altair, sir, could you take a look at this movement?”
“Huh? Sure, Sarubia. What’s up with the sword today~?”
Altair approached me with his usual casual swagger, smiling.
“Sometimes, one has to give the sword some attention too. After all, isn’t a sword the weapon that suits an Archon best?”
“Hey, that’s right~!”
“I believe one should always stay faithful to the basics.”
“Ha, exactly… These days, the kids keep forgetting that the sword is the basic. Still, you’ve got a good head on your shoulders, Sarubia.”
Altair laughed, slapping me on the back a few times. I forced a natural smile in response.
‘From now on, I’m climbing the ladder—full throttle.’
In the original story, Winter was the commanding officer of this unit. Normally, commanding officers were assigned to divisions other than the ones they came from, but Winter had been lucky enough to be reassigned right back here.
After spending his recruit and private years as an elite A-class soldier, surrounded by equally elite comrades, Winter had gained considerable power in this unit as a corporal.
He was what you’d call a “senior with power.”
That was true for his fellow elites too—but the important thing was that Winter would later remain here as the unit’s commanding officer.
By that point, his influence in the unit reached its peak.
‘That’s why I need to join Winter’s line.’
And to join Winter’s line… instead of trying to approach the distant and cold “symbol of cool mint” Winter himself, I’d need to start with someone more approachable—Altair.
Altair was fairly easy to read. Because of his blue hair and blue eyes, he was grouped with his fellow elites as one of the “Cool Mint Trio,” but I’d say he was a mix of laid-back and old-fashioned.
He was the kind of guy who joked easily with seniors and joked loudly with juniors, but would snap the second something annoyed him.
A perfect example of the “I think I’m trendy and young” middle-aged manager type.
‘Never thought I’d end up in a political drama myself.’
I’d enjoyed reading political fantasy novels—
Those stories where the heroine risked her life navigating imperial court intrigue, servants’ heads rolled, and every move was a deadly chess match between noble factions.
I just didn’t expect my version of a political drama would take place in the army.
Still, from now on… it was politics for me.
‘And of all kinds of politics, military politics are the finest.’
“Fufufu…”
Altair flinched at my sudden ominous laughter.
“Hey, did you just hear April’s laugh somewhere around here? …Must’ve imagined it.”
I smirked, already envisioning the battles of influence I would soon wage.
* * *
This unit wasn’t particularly known for factional conflict or heavy politics.
After all, people died all the time here—better to spend that time training your skills than scheming.
Still, anywhere there are people, there are factions.
Not severe ones, perhaps, but lines of loyalty definitely existed.
Among the corporals, the trio of Winter, Altair, and Yuri from the 78th class had a long-standing rivalry with Gagne and Zara from the 77th.
Yes, that Gagne—the one who had taken Jaiden under his wing.
I figured the 77th class probably hated their juniors because the Cool Mint Trio of the 78th were just too good, always being compared unfavorably.
‘Among the current corporals, Winter’s line might be the youngest, but thinking about the future… it’s still the smartest move.’
Which was why I was now sitting here listening to Altair’s ridiculous stories.
“So, I’m telling you, I moved that massive boulder all by myself~.”
“Wow, incredible! How did you manage to move something that heavy?”
“Well, my palm was the size of a dishcloth back then.”
“Hahahaha!”
“Cough cough!”
At my forced laugh, Yuri, who was passing by drinking water from a bottle, choked and sprayed it everywhere.
“Hey—what the hell are you doing…?”
Yuri pointed a trembling finger at Altair. The latter just waved lazily.
“Yo, what’s up?”
“…Sarubia, you must’ve had it rough.”
Yuri approached me, eyes soft with pity, and gently held my hand.
“You’ve suffered a lot, huh… I’m sorry, as your fellow soldier.”
Then he shot Altair a glare fit for trash.
“Why are you bullying the kid?”
“What? Bullying? You didn’t see? We were having a nice conversation, laughing and all!”
“Shut up! Don’t mistreat your juniors!”
“What, how is that mistreatment—”
“Your jokes are mistreatment!”
Yuri dragged Altair off, still scolding him, though he gave me a sympathetic look.
“I mean, come on! Taro loses it if there’s a tiny noise while he’s sleeping, Gagne cusses out the kids every day—and I’m the bad guy?!”
“Your jokes are worse than both of them combined!”
I sighed deeply as Altair’s figure disappeared into the distance.
“Seriously, there’s not a single normal person here…”
Altair, with his polished swordsmanship, was a handsome young man with a bright and cheerful aura.
Unlike many seniors whose muscles were bulky from endless training, he was slim, with lustrous blue hair, long eyelashes, and fair skin—a total “idol type.”
But behind that fresh appearance hid the most old-fashioned, unfunny man in the whole unit…
He was friendly enough and got along with the juniors, but the real problem was that he thought they liked him because he was witty and trendy.
“No, it’s fine. I can endure this… I’ll definitely become Altair’s trusted aide…”
Grrr…
I swallowed a frustrated groan and left. I’d just remembered the pile of laundry waiting for me.
When I trudged into the washroom, Caron looked up at me, eyes shining.
“Where did you go?”
“Altair.”
I gave a half-hearted answer, crouched next to him, and patted his head.
“Good job, you’re doing great.”
I could feel the gazes of the new recruits, including Jaiden, but I didn’t mind.
‘Now Jaiden will see I’m on good terms with the seniors.’
The pile of white shirts in the basket smelled faintly of blood. Yesterday’s monster battle had left everyone soaked in it.
“Seriously, which idiot in command thought white dress shirts were a good idea?”
Grumbling, I took a shirt that had been soaking in cold water and smeared toothpaste onto a brush.
It was easy to forget sometimes, but the world of “Nemijib” was a romance fantasy story.
Meaning, all the rom-fan logic applied here, too.
Like how no matter how hard you trained, you never reeked of sweat.
Or how your hair didn’t clump even when soaked.
Or how everyone was unreasonably good-looking.
And that extended to clothing as well…
‘Seriously, who wears a white dress shirt to battle, damn it.’
Apparently, the original author wanted to make the male leads look cool—so she had them fight monsters in stiff navy jackets over white dress shirts.
Let me repeat: white. Dress. Shirts.
Because of that artistic choice, we now had to scrub and wash blood-soaked white shirts after every mission.
‘What’s the point of making them look stylish if you make us live like this? Damn it.’
I never thought I’d transmigrate into a romance novel and end up scrubbing blood out of uniforms with toothpaste.
But, well—nothing beat toothpaste for removing bloodstains.
I remembered seeing something about hydrogen peroxide back in my old world, but good luck finding that here.
After scrubbing blood with toothpaste for so long, even brushing your teeth later made you feel nauseated.
“I’ll take care of the rest, ma’am!”
“Oh, look at our sweet youngest.”
Caron looked up at me with the expression of a loyal puppy, and I couldn’t help but soften and ruffle his hair again.
Even though he wasn’t the youngest anymore, he’d always be my baby.
“By the way, where are Ishina and Aquila?”
“Oh, the two of them said they had something to discuss and went out earlier.”
“…What?”
I shot up from my seat, setting aside the freshly washed shirt.
“Then we have to follow them!”
I was already dying of boredom from doing laundry, and now those two had managed to slip away? No way I was missing that chance.
“Come on, get up—we’re going too!”
“But the laundry—”
“It’s fine, almost done!”
Most of the blood had been cleaned anyway. All that was left was to hang them to dry in the sun—hardly a job that needed this many people.
‘That means we can go!’
Sorry to the recruits, but when there’s a year and three months of seniority between us, it’s only fair the “experienced” ones delegate a little.
