Chapter 70
* * *
“Ishina-nim, Ishina-nim, Ishina-nim!”
“Sarubia… I can hear you perfectly well even if you call my name once.”
“I have a question!”
The moment I spotted Ishina in the morning, I practically screamed his name. Ishina, looking tired and worn out, trudged toward me.
“Why, Sarubia? What are you curious about?”
He looked exhausted, but as always, his voice was gentle. Ishina always spoke to me like he was addressing a child—softly, kindly.
Hearing that voice, I couldn’t help hoping that, unlike in the original story, Ishina might have some affection for me as his “junior.”
Maybe something like: “The person he didn’t care about died, but then a new recruit who resembles her appears… he becomes curious, falls in love, and cherishes her as someone special.”
Maybe something like that could happen!
“Ishina-nim, I’ve been troubled about something lately…”
“Alright, tell me.”
“Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about death.”
“Death?”
Because I suddenly brought up something so heavy, worry flashed across Ishina’s face.
But he was so good at controlling his expressions that I couldn’t be sure if that worry was real.
“Yes. Many juniors have died so far, but we always manage to move on quickly, don’t we? So I was thinking… even if I die…”
I lifted my head and met Ishina’s deep green eyes.
“If I die and the people around me forget me, and treat me like I was nothing… that scares me.”
What I meant was: I’m afraid Ishina will say something like “Well, if you’re dead, nothing can be done~,” just like in the original story.
“W–why are you thinking such things, Sarubia?”
Ishina stuttered, visibly startled. Seeing that expression made my hope grow even more. He clearly didn’t know what to do with my words.
“It might be a pointless thought, but… I just wanted reassurance that even if I die, there’ll be people who won’t let me go from their hearts.”
“Sarubia, there will definitely be people who’d be devastated if you died. Aquila and Caron, for example—who knows if they’d even function normally.”
He had no idea why I suddenly brought this up, but Ishina quickly regained his composure and began explaining gently.
“And don’t talk about dying. That’s unlucky, okay?”
His soothing voice filled the air.
So I decided it was time to get to the real point.
I tried to speak as casually as possible, but nervousness made my voice tremble on its own.
“Then… Ishina-nim, what do you think you’d feel if I died?”
“…Why are you asking me that?”
“Well, you’re my senior, and also…”
I lowered my voice so only he would understand.
“You’re… someone who’s very clean-cut when it comes to emotions.”
On the surface, he seemed kind, but deep down he never formed emotional bonds with anyone.
That was the Ishina I knew from the original story.
And the Ishina in front of me surely understood exactly what I meant by “clean-cut with emotions.”
I was basically telling him that I understood what kind of person he was, and that it was okay for him to show that side to me.
“……”
But Ishina didn’t respond. He stayed silent for a very long time.
“Ishina-nim…?”
“…Sorry, Sarubia. I need to go.”
“…Huh?”
“I just remembered I left something unfinished at the dorm.”
He walked away briskly in the direction of the lodgings.
Anyone could see it: he was running away.
As if even lying to say “Of course I’d never forget you” was impossible.
“…Ishina-nim!”
I couldn’t let it end like that. I ran to him, ignoring the rejection he had just shown, and blocked his path.
“W-why… why won’t you answer me…?”
“Sarubia.”
“When I asked recently if you’d help me if I spoke honestly, you said you wouldn’t. Is it the same thing now…?”
Ishina looked down at me with a somber expression I’d never seen from him before.
“…Sarubia, like you said—I’m clean-cut when it comes to emotions.”
“Then…”
“You know I have no reason to go out of my way to help you.”
After saying that, Ishina turned and left me behind.
This time, I didn’t follow. I just stood there for a long time.
“How could he say that…?”
My face twisted horribly as I stared at the place he’d just walked away from.
Out of basic courtesy, couldn’t he have at least said, “Well, since you’re my junior, I wouldn’t forget you”?
Or even a soulless “Oh, really? That’d be sad.”
And when I asked my final question, Ishina had practically revealed the truth about himself:
He was “clean-cut with emotions.”
The way he thought—the way I knew it from the original story—had not changed for me at all.
I was just another passing soldier to him.
“Ah, seriously…”
I eventually buried my face in my knees.
The idea that my relationships had changed compared to the original story… was all just my delusion.
Even if Aquila or Winter didn’t love and obsess over me the way they did in the original story, that wasn’t really the issue.
Aquila was still devoted to me as his only peer, and Winter was still an exemplary senior.
But the senior I had relied on emotionally the most—still treated me like someone whose death wouldn’t matter, just like in the original.
Ishina was the same. He hadn’t changed in the slightest.
If I died, Ishina wouldn’t waver.
Even if I felt a bond with him, he’d never feel the same toward me.
* * *
Ishina’s attitude had left me deeply betrayed.
And that feeling now turned into insomnia.
“Sigh…”
It had to be dawn already, yet I still couldn’t sleep.
Normally, military life meant that the moment your head touched the bed, you’d be out cold. And even if you blinked, several hours would pass instantly.
I was exhausted—yet I couldn’t sleep.
Faces of the dead soldiers flashed through my mind.
My fellow recruits: Linia, Carl, Magne, Johan, Billy, Hippo…
Four from Reyna’s batch…
The two who enlisted during the crown prince attack and had to start with cleaning…
Zaiden’s recruits—three or four died, I think…
Benny’s batchmates: Shine, Muscle, and… who was the last one? Anyway, those three…
And Sergeant Danin, who died when I was a private…
Ah. And Dori died just a week ago…
“Hrk… sniff.”
I didn’t know if it was sorrow or frustration, but tears began to fall.
Right—there was no reason for me to suddenly mourn all these deaths now.
So I must have been angry.
Just as I had grown used to everyone else’s deaths, they would eventually become accustomed to mine.
And the thought felt so unfair and heartbreaking.
“I even gave up my name.”
To survive better in this world, I had let go of my most precious memory—my “original name.”
I remembered rolling that name in my mouth before sleep in my early days here.
But now I didn’t even remember what it was.
That name wasn’t just a name—it was the old me from the world I came from.
I had nothing left but this world, and the only people I knew were the soldiers.
If even they forgot me… then I would disappear from both worlds.
“…sniff…”
As I cried quietly so as not to wake Benny or Angel, a sudden thought hit me:
“Is this depression?”
I knew I wasn’t mentally stable lately. But so what?
It wasn’t like I could go to a hospital here.
In the end, I cried alone under my blanket until morning.
* * *
It wasn’t surprising that others noticed how gaunt I had become from lack of sleep.
“Sarubia, are you sick?”
“No.”
I shook my head, but Aquila held my cheeks in both hands and stared intently at my face.
“You have dark circles.”
“I’m just tired.”
“It looks like you haven’t slept in days.”
…Of course. Aquila’s observation skills were always sharp.
“Well…”
I replied weakly, refusing to explain, and Aquila didn’t press further.
I can’t exactly tell him the truth…
I couldn’t say, “I have insomnia because I’m heartbroken that the story isn’t changing and Ishina acts like in the original.”
How would I even explain that?
But Aquila’s concern wasn’t the end of it.
Even someone who rarely spoke to me lately flinched when he saw my face and approached me.
“Sarubia, how was your meal today?”
“…Huh?”
After Aquila and I finished eating and stepped out of the cafeteria, Ishina asked me that question in a gentle voice.
It was completely out of nowhere.
I checked again to make sure the person speaking was really Ishina.
But yes—he was standing right there, looking at me with a kind smile.
I staggered, and Aquila supported me by grabbing my arm.
I stared at Ishina with confusion.
“Meal? Well… it was the same as usual.”
“Mm, I see. Come to think of it, I don’t remember seeing the pudding you like lately. I hope it comes out this week, right?”
“Yes… but…”
After the incident a few days ago, Ishina had seemed awkward around me, and of course I felt the same.
We hadn’t spoken in days.
So for him to suddenly act like nothing happened—so gentle and kind—it was impossible not to feel suspicious.
