86 - Volume 6 - Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1 

IN THE WEREWOLVES’ FOREST 

The Legion force heading for the Revich Citadel Base changed course soon after the base was retaken. In response, the United Kingdom’s reinforcements weaved their way through the enemy’s advancing forces and reached the base a little over a day later. 

The Legion offensive was currently being delayed thanks to these reinforcements… A delay was all they could manage. They couldn’t counterattack, force the Legion to retreat, or even hold the line. In other words, neither the Eighty-Sixth Strike Package nor all the forces of the United Kingdom’s 1st Armored Corps would last on this battlefield. 

Regrettably, the Revich Citadel Base would have to be abandoned despite the Strike Package’s and the Sirins’ desperate struggle to reclaim it. The relief unit’s white transport truck and the Strike Package’s steel-blue heavy transport vehicle left the base behind, solemn as a funeral procession. 

As she sat in the tightly packed passenger compartment of one of the heavy transport vehicles, Lena stared out over the bleak snowscape through the bulletproof-glass window. 

She gazed at the precipitous cliffside base—the site of their woefully short-lived respite from the battlefield, the base they’d fought against the Legion to reclaim and ultimately failed to keep. Her attention shifted to one corner of the cliff, where the remains of the siege road were just barely visible. 

Those Sirins and their Alkonosts, who had willingly sacrificed their mechanical bodies to form that gruesome bridge, held prized United Kingdom state secrets. The Sirins especially so, since the makeup of their neural networks would be exceedingly valuable to the Legion. The United Kingdom tried to recover what they could in the short amount of time that they occupied the base, but what was left over would have to be completely destroyed with explosives. 

They gave their lives for the sake of humankind but wouldn’t be mourned as humans. 

The Eighty-Six, whose service during the Revich Citadel Base operation was no less instrumental, also suffered heavy damage. Battle-hardened though they were, they still had to fight for their lives in harsh, snowy weather conditions they weren’t accustomed to. And even with the odds stacked against them, they ultimately succeeded in pushing back the Legion. But from a tactical standpoint, their efforts bore no fruit, and they walked away from the mission with next to nothing. None of them had said a word since leaving the base behind. The sense of defeat lingered in the air like a heavy smog. 

The siege route made from the wreckage of the Alkonosts as well as the Sirins’ broken bodies was easily the most haunting element of the battle. The dead filled the moats, forming a mountain of ruin that allowed the Eighty-Six to scale the cliff. It was a massive gravestone marking the place where the human-shaped dolls were crushed and trampled to death, laughing all the while. 

Seeing it broadcast on a screen was ghastly enough, but the Eighty-Six had watched it happen before their very eyes. And they then had to walk over that road, knowingly treading upon those girls’ remains, acknowledging their sacrifices as they pressed onward. 

Their mental anguish was immeasurable. 

Shin, now sitting opposite Lena, had been there, too. Lena frowned, recalling the expression he had made as he beheld the mountain of the Sirins’ remains. He had looked like a lost, confused child who could’ve vanished into the snow at a moment’s notice. Even Shin, who had survived the horrors of the Eighty-Sixth Sector with certain death hot on his heels every day, had made such an expression… 

Turning her attention to the rest of the compartment, Lena watched the Processors slumbering silently, half-sunk into their seats. None of them seemed like they would be opening their eyes anytime soon. Shin similarly leaned against the firm backrest, with arms crossed and eyes closed. He wore his usual, almost overly calm expression, but he was visibly pale. He still hadn’t shaken off the several days’ worth of fatigue he’d built up during the siege battle. 

He’s asleep, right…? 

Lena gingerly reached out and grabbed the blanket that had been tossed to his side. A person’s body temperature fell while they slept, and the heavy transport vehicle was air-conditioned, so she imagined he wouldn’t get much rest if he was cold. Struggling against the cramped space of the compartment, she slowly unfolded the blanket. But just as she moved to cover him up with it, Shin’s crimson eyes fluttered open. 

“…Lena?” 

“Eep!” 

He blinked a few times and then looked up at her in a daze. Realizing how close they were, Lena reflexively jumped back. She let go of the blanket in the process, and it gently fell onto his lap. 

“…? Did something happen?” 

“N-no. No, er…” 

Lena sat back down in her seat with an unusual swiftness. She then straightened her back and placed her hands on her knees in an excessively formal fashion. Finally, she spoke, while turning her flushed face in a random direction. 

“I thought you were asleep. So I…” 

“Oh…” 

His reply was lackluster, and his reaction was still a bit sluggish. Lena anxiously furrowed her brows. 

“You must be tired. Go ahead and get some rest.” 

“Not yet. We’re still in enemy territory.” 

Shin shook his head gently, knowing he wouldn’t be getting any sleep. 

“The United Kingdom’s reinforcements are handling patrols and combat. Their numbers are more than sufficient, so you don’t have to push yourself, Shin… It’s fine. This isn’t the Eighty-Sixth Sector.” 

This isn’t the lonely battlefield where all the fighting and the death is left for the Eighty-Six to endure alone. This isn’t the Eighty-Sixth Sector, where the whole world is against you. 

“I know you might consider it human nature for people to sacrifice others to save themselves. But it’s also human nature to fight to protect one’s home and the people they hold dear. So…it’s fine, really.” 

“………” 

Shin said nothing. He just hung his head and looked at the floor. His blinking had slowed down, as if he was withstanding the urge to let his eyes close. His gaze was unfocused, too. He was likely exhausted. 

“…Lena, you…” 

The words that left his lips didn’t feel like they were directed at her, but at himself. 

“…You can still say that…? Even after seeing that…?” 

Lena blinked once at his question but soon nodded when she understood what he meant: the words she’d once told him. 

Is this world beautiful? 

This world… Its people… Could you learn to love them? 

“How can you be so…?” 

His question was curt yet felt so oddly imploring that Lena couldn’t help but crack a faint, sad smile. He’d completely given up on this world, and to him, the sight of the siege route the Sirins had made with their own bodies felt like the symbol of all the world’s malice gathered into one place. 

That bridge of bodies represented the bitter truth of the world. 

And Lena didn’t want to believe it, but maybe that was true. Still… 

“…You’re wrong. I… Even I can’t help but think that people can be despicable.” 

There were times when she couldn’t help but shiver with disgust at the maliciousness of the world; at her homeland, which felt no shame in persecuting the Eighty-Six; at the way her reports constantly went ignored; at the way her complaints were misunderstood; at everyone’s apathy; at the sight of her subordinates, whom she knew by name, dying in droves. 

Not to mention the piles of corpses of the unnamed many who had perished in the large-scale offensive. 

She also felt disgust at herself—for never asking anyone’s name until she was admonished for that very act of negligence; for never even thinking it strange. 

The world and its people weren’t all beautiful and kind. There were some who were so unsightly that she couldn’t even bring herself to face them directly. 

And still… 

“But… It bothers me. If that’s really how the world is, everyone is… No, I am…” 

Before she could lay her heart bare at the height of despair, she stopped herself and shook her head. He was no doubt exhausted. His body and mind must have been screaming for respite. 

“I’m sorry. We should finish this chat later… Forget about it and relax for now. If you can’t fall asleep, just rest your eyes.” 

She reached out for the fallen blanket and drew it up to his shoulders this time… This, of course, brought her hand near his face. The back of it brushed against his cheek, and she quickly banished all thoughts of how cold he felt. Instead, she stuffed the edges of the blanket between Shin’s back and his seat so that the vehicle’s vibrations wouldn’t cause it to fall off. 

She then returned to her own seat and watched him. Abiding by her words, Shin closed his eyes, and before long, his body grew limp. 

He had been so exhausted that he could hardly keep his eyes open, so Lena couldn’t imagine he would stay awake much longer. The heavy transport vehicle’s seats were hard, and sitting in them was by no means a comfortable experience. But even so, Shin was able to lean back and fall asleep in no time at all. 

His sleeping face was surprisingly youthful and quite fitting for his age. Lena couldn’t resist the urge to smile, but she soon knit her brows again. The reason why he fell asleep so easily was more than his exhaustion from the siege. The ghostly wails of the Legion had died down when their large group dispersed. And the Sirins were gone, too. 

For the last few days, he had been fighting in an area where the nightmarish screams of the mechanical ghosts constantly boomed in his ears over a several-kilometer radius. It put significant mental strain on him. To make matters worse, he wasn’t used to siege battles. Challenging a stalwart fortification and repeatedly launching ineffective attacks had a way of wearing on one’s spirit. His fatigue was so severe that the moment the opportunity presented itself, he immediately dozed off. 

…Why? 

Lena pursed her lips tightly. The opposite had happened time and again. Lena shared the sorrow, the pain, and the guilt that weighed on her, and Shin accepted it and comforted her. 

But why didn’t Shin ever say he was in pain? Why didn’t he rely on her…? 

A holographic map appeared over the mother-of-pearl table, which was covered in polished ebony. 

“In the wake of the recent Legion offensives, the second line and the 1st Armored Corps’ tactical area have fallen.” 

This briefing was being conducted in the United Kingdom of Roa Gracia’s royal palace, in a conference room dedicated for war councils. It was attended by military officers and members of the nobility who were in charge of military operations. Even those who were still on the front lines appeared in holographic form and watched the three-dimensional map on the table. 

The map’s holographic lines traced the shape of one of the United Kingdom’s war zones: a corner of the Dragon Corpse mountain range, in the country’s northern region. The United Kingdom’s army was stationed to the north, while the Legion were lined up along the south. Between both armies was a lowland, which served as the battlefield of the second line. 

By now, the United Kingdom’s forces had been pushed back to the northern mountain’s peak, having been forced to retreat to their reserve encampment. The Legion’s main force had covered the base of the northern mountain, and the majority of the map was dyed crimson with red dots that signified the enemy forces. 

“The Legion are currently forming an advance encampment in this area. According to the estimates made by the Strike Package’s Esper, there is an enemy battalion included in this encampment. Our recon reported that this battalion is a group of armored units, primarily made of Löwe and Dinosauria. It is safe to assume they’re preparing to launch another offensive.” 

This was one of the Legion’s trademark tactics for breaking through enemy lines. They would pressure peripheral defenses by sending in a concentration of Dinosauria, which boasted overwhelming firepower, and then suppress the front with additional units. They’d repeated this tactic time and again against the United Kingdom, the Federacy, the Alliance, and even against the Republic of San Magnolia, following the Morpho’s destruction of their walls. 

“If they break through our reinforcements in the Dragon Corpse mountain range, the next battlefield will be in the southern plains. These are the United Kingdom’s farmlands—and effectively our lifeline. If the flames of war consume that area as well… As much as I hate to sound disrespectful, while Your Majesty and his castle might survive, the United Kingdom itself will be finished.” 

A tension that was unbearable even by the standards of this militaristic country hung in the air over the war council. At this point, there was effectively no battleground their reserve forces could fall back to. If they didn’t hold their position… If they couldn’t reclaim more ground, they would have no future. 

“And there’s also the issue of the temperature dropping due to the Eintagsfliege’s interference, which has persisted since early spring. If we don’t deal with them by summer, the farmlands in the south will be ruined.” 

Seated on his throne at the farthest end of the room, the king let out a small sigh. 

“So our kingdom only has a month and a half left to live. Damned Legion… Keeping those flies of theirs in the air at all times should be putting a considerable strain on them, as well.” 

The Legion produced energy primarily through solar power generation. As adaptable as they were, even they would struggle to maintain a presence in the north, where sunlight was sparse, and all the more so during the winter. This was why they relied on geothermal power generators as well. 

And the Eintagsfliege’s wings could only carry them up to a certain height. In order for them to cover the skies of the southern United Kingdom, they’d have to rely on the wind and the Zentaur’s long-distance launching capabilities. This meant they needed a base capable of launching them, and there was a limited number of places that could allow for that. 

One such place was the Legion stronghold, which was also responsible for producing their large reserves of geothermal electricity. 

“The Dragon Fang Mountain… We must destroy that base at all costs. And quickly.” 

“By your will, Your Majesty. We will need to slip through the Legion’s defenses, take control of the mountain, and halt deployment of the Eintagsfliege. In doing so, we will also interrupt their unit production… If we cannot accomplish that, and also push them out of the second front, our country has no future.” 

The king nodded once and then asked: 

“What of the Strike Package, Zafar?” 

The crown prince, who was the overall commander of the second front’s forces, nodded. The unit they’d been loaned from their neighboring country would serve as the lynchpin of the Dragon Fang Mountain capture operation. That blade was still sharp. 

“Its officers are headed to the capital in anticipation of the operation, while their main force is currently on reserve duty. We will have to wait for their supplies to be replenished by the Federacy… And yet they are our decisive sword for combating the mechanical ghosts. Putting them to use unnecessarily would only serve to chip their blade away.” 

“They can be deployed, yes?” 

He was referring to both the stalwart blade loaned to them by the Federacy and the birds of death the United Kingdom begrudgingly took pride in. Zafar cracked a thin smile, like a sword drawn from its sheath. 

“Of course.” 

“…About restocking the Juggernauts we lost during the Revich Citadel Base operation—we should be able to get the numbers we need on the next scheduled supply. The Federacy’s still strugglin’ to restock and cover the losses from the large-scale offensive, so we don’t have a surplus or anythin’, but Colonel Wenzel managed to get what she needed out of ’em.” 

Though he was the oldest noncommissioned officer among them and the captain of the Vargus-only units as well as the Nordlicht squadron, Bernholdt was still serving as Shin’s assistant. Several desks had been brought into the room, and Bernholdt spoke as Shin stood in front of them. 

While the Dragon Fang Mountain capture operation was being redrafted, Lena and the rest of the officers, along with Shin’s group of senior Processors, Bernholdt, and the squadron commanders, had been ordered to return to the capital. The common room of the Imperial villa that served as their barracks doubled as the captains’ joint office. 

Through the window lay a snowy landscape—an unfitting sight given that summer was nearly upon them. 

“The bigwigs’ war council should be over soon, and the operation’ll probably start as soon as we’ve gotten our supplies. Things are pretty tense, even this far behind the front lines. I’m pretty sure the war situation is bad enough that they don’t want to sit and wait for our supplies from the Federacy to get here, though… But that said…” 

Shin was the only captain in the common room; the others were all out on their own errands. Bernholdt carried on after looking around the room listlessly and once again confirming only Shin was present. 

“…you all right, man?” 

“…What do you mean?” 

“Don’t you ask me that. You’re looking a bit better now, but back when we recaptured the citadel base and you gave us the order to retreat? Your voice was shaking.” 

Shin pursed his lips. The ruins of the Sirins lying in the snowy field, the fact that he had to run over them, crushing their bodies in his wake—it was like a manifestation of the path he had taken to get to where he was today, one built upon his sacrificed comrades’ corpses. 

Back then, he’d thought: 

Humans were all monsters. 

The Eighty-Six had realized what awaited them at the end of their long journey—their reward for their sacred “pride”—was a mountain of laughing corpses. And yet pride was all they had. They couldn’t change that now. 

“…It won’t affect the operation.” 

“Yeah, I don’t doubt that, but… Wow, you’re really down in the dumps. I can’t believe you just admitted it so easily.” 

“………” 

Dammit. 

Bernholdt laughed at his little trick as Shin grimaced. 

…This is irritating. 

“Look, I’m just relieved to see you act your age for once, y’know? Even we mercenaries were shocked when we saw that siege route. It’s probably that much harder on you kids.” 

“What about you guys?” 

“Well, we Vargus are beastmen. We wouldn’t want to die like those dolls, but it’s still better than a straw death. Oh, a straw death is what we call dying like an old man who croaks while sleeping in the comfort of his bed.” 

“Beastmen?” 

Bernholdt would call the Vargus that every now and then. Beasts shaped like human beings… And he always said it with a hint of pride. Bernholdt nodded. 

“Yeah, that’s what they used to call people they drove out of towns and villages. They treated them like wolves, not people; these folks couldn’t live among humans and didn’t deserve to be treated as such.” 

“I think that’s called Salic law…? That’s a pretty old concept.” 

“If anything, I should be asking how the hell you know about something like that… I know you’re a bookworm, but still.” 

“Raiden’s roots are steeped in that ‘beastman’ mentality, so yeah, I’ve heard of it. Apparently, his ancestors hated that ideology and moved from the Empire to the Republic.” 

“Huh. So that’s why First Lieutenant Shuga’s called Wehrwolf. If he’s from the Empire, his ancestors must have been from one group of Vargus or another… And then they ended up in the Republic, where they got treated like animals in human form. Talk about rotten luck.” 

“………” 

The backstory behind Raiden’s Personal Name is that when Shin first met him, he was much more savage and had a way of snapping and attacking anyone who got in his way. It was mostly an insult. Bernholdt didn’t seem to notice the way Shin avoided meeting his gaze and continued: 

“…Anyway. We Vargus are kind of like werewolves: disloyal outcasts abandoned on the outskirts of the Empire. The Empire lost nothing by leaving us to die, unlike serfs, so they always went around recruiting us when it was time for war and regularly sent rations to keep us obedient. A class of vassal warriors that was granted tax exemptions and provisions during both war and peacetime—that was us Vargus… Though, thanks to that, the average citizens didn’t want anything to do with us anymore.” 

And so even when the Empire was overthrown and the Federacy was established in its place, the rift between the former Vargus and the rest of the population remained. The Vargus had no Federacy citizenship but were residents of the Federacy all the same. They weren’t permitted to enter officer academies or military training schools, but these people of the battlefield were still treated as mercenary forces. 

Hence, they were beastmen. Animals that could no longer live among humans. 

“…Haven’t you ever considered uprooting that ideology?” 

“Not really. We’ve been soldiers of fortune for generations. It’s easier for us this way.” 

Bernholdt was perfectly composed as he spoke, without much fervor or discontent. His tone made it clear he truly believed what he was saying. 

“For centuries, we’ve done nothin’ but wage war. The thirst for battle runs in our veins, y’see? So it makes sense we don’t get along with the citizens, and we can’t stand living peacefully in the city, either… In the end, wolves are wolves till the day they die. We can’t be human, and we don’t wanna be human to begin with.” 

“………” 

All we have is pride. And there’s no changing that. 

Looking down at Shin, who had fallen silent, Bernholdt smiled suddenly. He had steel-gray hair and golden eyes. True to the man’s description of himself, he somehow reminded Shin of an aged wolf. Callous and brutal. 

“Don’t lose that cute side of yours, ya hear me? You Eighty-Six don’t wanna end up becoming something that isn’t human, do ya?” 

“Now then, as you’re surely aware, our objective is still the destruction of the Dragon Fang Mountain base.” 

A common room was prepared in the palace to hold a war council. Vika spoke as a holographic map of the battlefield appeared over the chic parquet table, and several other holo-windows were projected from mobile information terminals. Aside from Vika and Lena, Grethe, as the Strike Package’s commanded, was also present, as were the captains of the Strike Package’s squadrons and the staff officers of Vika’s regiment. 

“The Strike Package’s losses during the last battle should not put this mission in jeopardy. My regiment’s losses are within acceptable parameters, as well.” 

“Yes.” 

This was without taking into account the many Sirins that were lost, however. The soldiers of Vika’s regiment seemed to have been traumatized by the ordeal as much as the Eighty-Six were. The Handlers who were emotionally attached to their subordinates were particularly demoralized. 

Vika, however, didn’t seem to pay much mind to the soldiers’ unrest and looked almost too collected. 

“The problem lies with the United Kingdom military’s main force. Their hands are full holding the line against the Legion’s front line. That includes supplies. We can’t expect them to dispatch a diversionary force like last time. This means we can’t execute the attack operation we drafted before.” 

Lena regarded his calm voice and expression with mixed feelings. She knew he was trying to think of countermeasures, too, and only acted this way because he knew that expressing concern now wouldn’t do them any good. And yet despite that, she couldn’t help but feel his reaction was unnatural. In contrast to Lena, Grethe spoke up with a detached tone. 

“No matter how we pierce the Legion’s defenses, we’d have to cross seventy kilometers… No, now that we’ve fallen back to the second front, it’s ninety kilometers. We’re expected to cross that distance and suppress the Dragon Fang Mountain base. We’ll need to think this over from scratch.” 

A new holo-window opened, presenting the total number of the Legion’s forces. The units’ icons formed a long, thick, rectangular formation across the map. Looking up at it, Lena winced. This was true for all their battles, but… 

“We are Legion, for we are many. Those words certainly ring true. Their forces are vast.” 

The Legion didn’t get away from the last battle unscathed, either, yet their numbers had not changed. They had managed to replenish the forces they had lost within the short time frame. The Weisel’s ability to mass-produce units in the safety of the Legion’s back line was as rapid and irritating as ever. 

They would have to avoid trying to penetrate the Legion’s front lines head-on. The idea was quite simply out of the question. Any attempt to brute force their way through the enemy’s defenses required having an army that was several times larger than theirs. 

There was the option of separating the enemy formation to land a concentrated blow at a point where their forces were thinner, but there were limits. The Strike Package was only the size of a brigade, and any attempt they might make to split up the enemy’s main force would likely fall short of expected results. 

It was then that Lena had an idea. 

“What about an airdrop…?” 

If the Legion could do it, why couldn’t they? 

“Impossible. The Legion have Stachelschwein set up in the United Kingdom’s territories, too. On top of that, the number of Eintagsfliege deployed here is much denser than in the Republic or the Federacy.” 

In addition to their electromagnetic jamming, the Eintagsfliege were also capable of taking offensive action against aircrafts. They would swarm around a plane and fly directly into its engine, destroying it from the inside. This threat, coupled with the Stachelschwein and their antiair cannons, made infiltrating the Legion’s airspace incredibly difficult. 

“Then maybe a rocket engine—” 

“The United Kingdom doesn’t have any type of rocket engine capable of supporting the advance force’s weight.” Vika cut her off and looked up. “Colonel Wenzel. Last year, during the Morpho subjugation operation, the Federacy used a ground-effect winged vehicle to ferry Captain Nouzen’s advance force. It ended up crash-landing, but would the Federacy happen to have another one of those?” 

Lena blinked in surprise at Vika’s words. It was the first she’d heard of it. A ground-effect winged vehicle? Sailing just above the ground and right into Legion territory? When Shin and his group were under Grethe’s direct command, they had only been a squadron in terms of size. 

Had Grethe, who had always seemed like a mature, responsible adult, actually done something so reckless? 

“There’s only one Nachzehrer unit… That’s the aforementioned ground-effect winged vehicle. And it crashed during that operation. All the prototypes and materials the developer had were taken away and dismantled. There’s nothing left. And even if the vehicle was still intact, we only had the one.” 

“And even it couldn’t support that much weight. You probably didn’t have enough pilots to handle more than one anyway.” 

“I piloted it myself during that operation, but I have no experience flying in the United Kingdom’s skies. And while this may come across as rude, I doubt your country has any pilots capable of flying anything that isn’t a transport plane, either.” 

“I’ll admit our fighter and bomber jets have only been collecting dust in their hangars.” 

Vika sighed, tacitly acknowledging they lacked pilots. Lena then proceeded to ask: 

“Can’t we open up an invasion route using missiles or artillery?” 

“The missiles’ guidance systems won’t operate under these conditions, and heavy artillery doesn’t deal enough effective damage to Dinosauria. Those things can charge straight through Skorpion fire. That’s what they did in the large-scale offensive.” 

“……” 

So raw firepower wasn’t the answer, either, though she could’ve guessed as much. As silence settled over the room, Lena racked her brain. Something… There had to be something. Some way of transporting the Juggernauts or blasting open a route to the Dragon Fang Mountain. There had to be… 

Lena’s eyes widened in realization. 

Maybe we can… 

Vika keenly noticed the change in Lena’s expression. 

“It seems you have something brilliant in mind, Milizé.” 

“No…” Lena couldn’t honestly describe her idea as brilliant. “But I do think it’s better than having the Strike Package charge in as is. And what of the Sirins? I need to know how many of them we can expect for this battle.” 

Vika scoffed. His face looked slightly offended, as if she’d asked a question with an obvious answer. 

“Don’t you understand yet? Those girls are weapons. And when it comes to war, one must favor quantity over quality. They couldn’t really be considered state-of-the-art weaponry if we weren’t able to mass-produce them, could they?” 

The sound of military boots clicking against the floor echoed from behind Shin. The footsteps seemed quite aggressive for the pace they traveled at. Judging by the length of the approaching figure’s stride, they were smaller than Shin—and yet they were significantly heavier, as if their skeleton and organs were completely metallic and coated with artificial muscles and skin. 

Shin could feel Rito, who was following behind him, gulp and stagger a step back away from the figure. 

“It is a pleasure to see you again, Sir Reaper.” 

About-facing in the parquet corridor, Shin turned to look at the relatively tall girl. Her hair was a fiery shade of crimson, far too red to appear natural. She wore a rouge uniform that was unique to those girls, and she had a violet quasi-nerve crystal embedded in her forehead. 

She spoke with the same voice that uttered those words he so clearly recalled. 

“Come now, everyone. By all means.” 

“…Ludmila.” 

There was a shiver in Shin’s voice. He couldn’t contain the chill in his heart, but the mechanical girl simply smiled at him in response. It was a graceful smile that paid no heed to the terror of the people standing before her—a smile made with the exact same face he remembered. 

“Yes, my unit identifier is Ludmila. I have been granted the honor of being redeployed. You may use and discard me as you please.” 

It was the same face and expression they had witnessed get crushed into the siege route composed of Alkonost and Sirin remains. 

“‘Use and discard’…? How can you say that with a smile…?!” croaked Rito, aghast. 

But Ludmila’s expression did not waver. She didn’t fault him for his fear, nor did she show any remorse for her past actions. 

“It is our pleasure to serve. So please do with us what you will.” 

“………” 

The Sirins were like the Legion—like the Black Sheep, Shepherds, and Sheepdogs. They were weapons made by assimilating the neural networks of those killed in action. Their brain structures, combat data, and pseudo-personalities were all safely stored in the United Kingdom, where they could be mass-produced, just like all modern weapons. 

Shin knew all this. Compared with the Ludmila they saw die a few days ago, this Ludmila shared only the quasi-personality, along with her combat data and likely the same memories from several days before the operation. In that sense, Shin couldn’t regard the two Ludmilas as the same person on a technical level. And yet… 

I see… This is…terrifying… 

He found it gruesome. Just a few days ago, this girl had died… Her body lay broken on the battlefield. But in the next offensive, she would be right back on the front line, fighting as before. Looking exactly the same. With the same voice, expression, memories, and mannerisms. 

As if nothing had happened. 

These girls, who were treated as disposable—much like the Eighty-Six—kept getting back up and leaping into the fray. What should have been a singular death was instead played on loop for as long as necessary. Their lives were regarded as no more than garbage. And they themselves were the ones who harbored this mindset. 

For humans, who were, on some level, perpetually fixated on the how and why of their own deaths, this came across as the greatest blasphemy imaginable. 

Treating death as just death. Devoid of meaning. Devoid of value. 

They were confronted with the idea that there didn’t need to be any significance or merit to it—or to the life preceding the death, for that matter. 

“…Right.” 

As Lena walked down the corridor connecting the castle’s conference room to the Imperial villa that served as their barracks, Lerche passed her by. 

“…Ah.” 

“My, if it isn’t Lady Bloody Reina.” 

Lena stopped in her tracks, and Lerche greeted her without any particular emotion in her voice. The limbs she’d lost during the last battle were intact and attached to her body, and there wasn’t any sign of the other injuries she’d taken during that battle… Nor were there any marks on her neck to prove that her severed head was the only part of her that had survived the recent events. 

Lerche pressed her right fist against the center of her chest in the United Kingdom’s customary hand-over-heart salute. 

“First Sirin Unit, Lerche, is once again fully operational, as you can see. I intend to diligently serve as a lustrous blade for the United Kingdom and the Eighty-Sixth Strike Package. Please use me however you see fit.” 

“I…see. That was, er…quicker than I thought it would be.” 

Lena purposely left out the word repairs. Lerche simply smiled, however, seemingly undisturbed. 

“I would argue that it took longer than preferred. I can only have all my body parts replaced in His Highness’s workshop… The other Sirins have had their spares assembled ahead of time in production plants and frontline bases, and they only need to have their pseudo-personalities and latest combat data installed prior to activation. They can be redeployed almost immediately, even if their bodies were completely destroyed—as in the latest battle. There are, in fact, multiple Sirins with the same identifier and appearance deployed concurrently across different units.” 

“………” 

To Lena, the idea was deeply unsettling, but Lerche described their existence as weapons with pride in her voice. This made it vividly clear that the United Kingdom only saw these girls as weapon components. They were no better than mass-produced, industrial goods. 

Having spare parts and units on standby in factories and bases was par for the course when it came to modern weaponry. Reginleifs had a fixed number of spare units set aside for each squadron and battalion. Shin was likely a rather unique example, but even in the Eighty-Sixth Sector, he had one or two spares of his personal Juggernaut, Undertaker, prepared. 

Yet seeing that same logic apply to these girls, who so closely resembled human beings, felt like a violation of ethics to Lena. 

“…Doesn’t it hurt?” 

“What do you mean?” 

Having her question replied to with so much composure left Lena at a loss for words. Lerche was perhaps used to seeing people react this way, because she cracked a knowing smile and continued: 

“Do you think cannon shells cry out in pain when they are stored in a factory or warehouse? Or even in the moment before they explode? Humans only shun the prospect of war because theirs is not an existence purposed for combat. But we Sirins are weapons. We are created to destroy the enemy. Dying along with our foes is a point of pride for us. We do not think it loathsome. If anything…” 

Lerche moved her gaze toward an old, ornamental sword displayed on the wall behind Lena. 

“…that sword is far more pitiful than we could ever be. It was made to cut down its foe and shatter in the heat of battle. But it will never fulfill its destiny. The technological advancements of war have rendered it obsolete, reducing it to an ornament that must forever have its shame on display for all to see… The same is true for you.” 

Those unexpected words gave Lena pause, and all she could do was stare back at the girl, who was slightly shorter than her, before saying: 

“Do you pity us?” 

Lerche stood with her back straightened and gave a stiff, dutiful nod. 

“Indeed. Humans despise war and fear the death it breeds. And yet you remain on the battlefield… You asked me if I hurt, but I must direct the same question at you. Unlike us, should you die, that is the end of your existence. There are so many things you wish to do that do not involve battle. Your time in this world is meant for more than just war, yet you squander it by fighting. Is that not a painful existence?” 

“…You may be right. However…” 

The answer to whether it hurt was obviously yes. If nothing else, Lena could not claim she derived any pleasure or joy from being on the battlefield. She could likely never throw herself into war the way the Sirins did during the last battle, laughing as if that cruel fate was all they ever longed for. The truth was that she wished she didn’t have to fight at all. 

However. 

Her thoughts turned to Shin and the other Processors of the Spearhead squadron she spoke to back then… 

“…the Eighty-Six chose to survive on this battlefield. And I chose to fight by their side.” 

Lerche cocked her head quizzically. 

“My, my… I guess it is true what they say in the streets. The closer you get to something, the harder it is to properly see it.” 

Her green eyes reflected the sunlight with a transparency that was different from a real human’s eye. 

“What do you mean…?” 

“I am of the opinion that Sir Reaper, and the rest of the Eighty-Six, do not in fact wish to be on the battlefield.” 

“…Everyone is truly brooding over this matter, are they not?” 

Despite being told that mixing sugared petals and the fruit that was served along with her tea was bad manners in the United Kingdom, Frederica didn’t pay the warning much heed. One older chamberlain had seemingly taken a liking to her and would regularly place an extra-large serving of different kinds of sugared garnishes on her small, silver plate. 

Her tea was already full of flower petals, but Frederica hadn’t touched it, instead gazing pensively into the cup as she spoke. Sitting opposite her, Raiden raised an eyebrow. They were in the villa’s sunroom, but the garden was currently surrounded with nothing but stifling, monochromatic snow. 

“…Yeah. That was a blow, all right.” 

He recalled the siege road they had to walk across, made of Alkonost and Sirin wreckage, and the image it conjured up. Rito, as well as some of the other younger Processors, seemed to have been especially impacted by it, though they didn’t put their feelings into words. 

But the effects the traumatic event had on each of them were readily apparent. Their reports were riddled with a greater number of minor mistakes and typos than usual. Many of the Processors hadn’t received even elementary education and weren’t the best at reading and writing. Yet even taking that into consideration, they were making far more mistakes than was typical. 

They were unable to concentrate on the work in front of them. Their minds were elsewhere, leaving them incapable of focusing on what their hands were doing. They weren’t properly checking their paperwork, even when it dealt with matters of life and death. 

“You seem to be doing fine, by comparison.” 

“Yeah, ’cause I wasn’t there to see it happen. I only saw it when everything was all over.” 

He hadn’t witnessed the Sirins sacrificing themselves to form that siege route, and he didn’t have to step over their mechanical remains to ascend. But even the other Eighty-Six who weren’t there to see it happen—and only chanced upon the sight while fighting off the remaining enemy forces—were shaken by the sight. 

The fact that he wasn’t as rattled probably wasn’t because he’d only seen it after the fact. 

No, it was likely…because he was the least-whittled-down blade among them. 

Up until he was twelve years of age, Raiden had been sheltered within the eighty-five Sectors of the Republic. And that meant he had been subjected to far less of the Republic’s malice, and he’d seen more human kindness than many of his comrades. 

I probably did lose a good deal in the Eighty-Sixth Sector, but…but there are still things I haven’t lost yet. 

Frederica looked up at him cautiously, as if examining some kind of wound. 

“And…what did you think when you saw them?” 

“I don’t wanna end up like that.” 

His response was brief, and he only realized how curt his tone was after he’d finished speaking. He clicked his tongue lightly, so as to not let Frederica hear it. 

We’ve really got our backs against the wall. We just haven’t noticed it until now. 

Raiden looked away, unable to meet her small, bloodred eyes. It felt like that crimson gaze could see right through him, unrelentingly burning through every lie and bluff he might try to come up with. 

“…I know what you’re gonna say. If I feel that way, then what should we do about it? What are we supposed to do differently so we don’t end up like them? But I ain’t got a clue, neither.” 

The Sirins were different from the Eighty-Six. That much was certain. But how were they different? What could the Eighty-Six do differently that would prevent them from becoming forgotten corpses on a pile of wreckage? That was a question that Raiden—and likely his comrades, as well—didn’t have the answer to. 

Actually… 

He curled his lips in a bitter grimace. 

“I don’t wanna know is probably a more honest answer to your question. I hate to admit it, but that’s…” 

Shin had said something like that at some point. 

“Don’t you want to remember?” 

His family. His hometown. The future he had vaguely dreamed about back then. The period of time when he was happy. 

Raiden had said no, and Shin likely felt the same way—neither of them wanted to remember. No, to be precise, they didn’t want to think about it at all. They didn’t want to think about the futures they had brazenly dared to consider. 

After all, an Eighty-Six had to believe that… 

“…that’s not something we’re allowed to wish for.” 

“Apparently, they’re going to decide the specifics of the next operation any day now.” 

They’d returned to the royal palace to wait until the particularities of their next mission were ironed out. But ever since their return, everyone else in the palace seemed to eye them with cold contempt. It wasn’t really the Eighty-Six’s fault that the United Kingdom had to fall back to its second front, but the fact remained that they had been dispatched and achieved nothing. 

Theo was the one who spoke up, sitting in one of the rooms in the Imperial villa that doubled as their barracks. It was natural that the others would look down on them. Since the Strike Package tried to avoid picking any unnecessary fights, they mostly stayed in the villa. 

They knew other people only saw them as bloodthirsty berserkers, and ever since they chose to join the military, they also knew they were seen primarily as weapons. 

“I mean, they can’t let us Eighty-Six mooch off them forever. The United Kingdom really is in a tight spot, after all… But still…” 

He looked up and spoke to the figure listlessly looking out the window. 

“You okay, Kurena?” 

“What? I’m fine; can’t you tell?” 

Kurena replied with a tone that was sourer than she’d probably intended. She had been like this ever since they retook the Revich Citadel Base… Ever since that charge, she had been constantly on edge like an ornery, injured cat rejecting anyone’s attempts to reach out to her. 

The same went for Shin, Raiden, Anju, and Theo himself… It went for all the Eighty-Six, really, albeit to different extents. Kurena narrowed her golden eyes at Theo, squinting at him harshly as if annoyed by his silence. 

“We’re different from those things.” 

From those unmanned-weapon processor units—the Sirins. The Sirins who laughed with pride as they were crushed and broken. 

“We’re not the same as them. I mean, that’s obvious, right? I don’t get why everyone’s so worked up over it. They… The Sirins—they’re not us.” 

But Theo could hear the creaking sound of her teeth clenching behind those words. She spoke in denial, as if to remonstrate herself. 

“That mountain of corpses… Those weren’t our dead bodies.” 

“Right.” 

The Sirins and the Eighty-Six were different. Those girls who laughed at the prospect of being trampled did not represent a future the Eighty-Six had to look forward to. She knew that. That’s…how it should have been. 

“But you know, it’s like… What makes us so different? We Eighty-Six don’t know, and I think…that’s why we can’t deny it. I feel the same way…” 

Their deaths would come eventually. And when they did, would the Eighty-Six be able to laugh proudly? While dying meaningless deaths? They had been made acutely aware of the possibility. And they didn’t have any concrete way of denying it. That was why… 

“I think we’re all just…scared.” 

Even Shin was scared… Even Kurena, who pursed her lips tightly and averted her gaze. 

“Are you all right, Second Lieutenant Emma…? Uhhh, I mean… Anju. You stopped again.” 

Beckoned by that awkward, bashful call, Anju raised her head from the common office’s desk. She switched off the electronic document regarding her platoon’s armaments and supplies and shrugged before replying. 

“I kind of got that feeling already, but…” 

Looking back in the direction of the voice, she was met with the silver eyes and pearlescent hair she hadn’t quite grown accustomed to. They belonged to the only member of the Strike Package clad in the Republic’s Prussian-blue men’s uniform. He was a bit shorter than Daiya was, and every time she tried to meet his gaze, she always seemed to miss him for a second. 

“…you really aren’t fazed by this, are you, Dustin?” 

He’d rushed up the siege route alongside them. Meanwhile, Lena, Vika, and Frederica only saw it happen through the command center’s screen, while Annette and Grethe weren’t present at all and only heard about the battle after the fact. None of them were of the Eighty-Six… 

“It’s not like I haven’t seen mountains of corpses before, like during the large-scale offensive. I mean, er…” 

During the large-scale offensive last summer, the Republic was hit the hardest. The entire country was consumed by the Legion’s forces, and it was during the summer at that. The walls and minefields they had built were surrounded by the Legion, and the Republic had nowhere to run. 

The killing machines took no prisoners and didn’t distinguish between military personnel and civilians. They slaughtered most of the Republic’s population of over ten million… There wasn’t even any time to cremate their remains. 

“It might come off as disrespectful, but I don’t understand why you’re so disturbed by this. It was a horrible operation, but, uh…y’know. When we saw the brain samples, there were all those skeletons. The Sirins weren’t any worse than that, so I honestly don’t get why you’re so bothered by it.” 

Dustin’s mind wandered back to Shin’s discovery during the Charité underground-terminal Labyrinth operation. The samples had been extracted, like common objects, from the heads of living people. They had been cracked open, and the brains had been extracted and placed into cylinders without so much as a shred of human dignity. And despite witnessing something so horrific, Shin didn’t bat an eye. His crimson gaze passed over the bodies without a hint of emotion, as if they truly were just objects. 

That was the coldness that made him worthy of his moniker: Reaper. But during the most recent operation, he was different. He watched those mechanical girls happily leap into the abyss and form the siege route with their bodies. It was a gruesome sight, to be sure, but it wasn’t much different than the corpses they saw in the terminal. And yet unlike that time, Shin showed hesitation. 

“…I see. You really are different from us.” 

Staring at that mountain of wreckage felt like staring into their own futures. They rushed to their deaths, insisting their pride spurred them to action, laughing all the while. And though he was shocked by it, Dustin couldn’t see a reflection of himself in that image. 

Even if they were to view the same sights, Dustin and Anju saw things differently. Even if they were on the same battlefield, and Dustin were to willingly choose to fight in the same place as her, an Eighty-Six and someone who wasn’t an Eighty-Six were different. Even if they both didn’t have a homeland or a place to return to anymore. 

“…I’m sorry.” Dustin hung his head. 

“Don’t be. You shouldn’t have to apologize for this… But…” 

What she was about to ask him was a cruel question. It would probably sound like she was blaming him as a citizen of the Republic. And while that wasn’t her intent, Anju was still an Eighty-Six, and Dustin was of the Republic, so it would probably come across as an accusation. 

“…Dustin, what do you suppose is the missing factor that would have made us like you? What do we need to hold on to…to stay normal?” 

“………” 

After hearing that question, Dustin looked away. It was an honest question and likely wasn’t accusatory. But it still made the rift between them all the more tangible. It made the indescribable emptiness in her gaze—in her words—all too clear. 

“I think you’ve got it wrong… It’s not that I think you guys aren’t normal or something; it’s just a difference in values. But…” 

Pausing for a moment to find the right words, Dustin spoke again. 

“…I do think the way you live right now is a kind of torture. It’s like you’re willingly tying yourselves up.” 

We are the Eighty-Six. That was how Anju would sometimes describe herself and the others to him. They took the name the Republic had forced on them, intending to disparage them, and made it their own, infusing it with pride. But from Dustin’s perspective, that name was a curse. 

That pride they carried was, at the same time, a curse that bound them like shackles. There was a paper-thin difference between that pride and a curse. Living for the sake of something and living to become something—it gave them a purpose, but it was also a curse that prevented them from being capable of living for any other reason. 

Dustin believed that everyone lived bound by something to some extent. Like one’s blood. Or one’s language, society, or emotions. One’s values and the past that led up to their present. No matter how free of those things one believes they might be, absolute freedom didn’t exist. 

And yet… 

“Whenever you guys call yourselves Eighty-Six, it feels to me like you’re also saying you can’t be anything but Eighty-Six. Like you’re saying you can’t hope to be anything other than what you are right now…” 

Svetlana Idinarohk was his father’s—the king’s—older sister by seven years, making her Vika’s aunt. And like Vika, Svetlana was one of the Idinarohk bloodline’s Espers—an Amethystus of the former generation. Her reception room had a half-circular window with a decorated frame in the shape of a folding fan. The faint sunlight streaming in from the frozen garden barely got through the double-layered glass. 

“I heard about what happened during your last battle, dear Vika. Quite the awful skirmish.” 

The Idinarohk bloodline ability was the augmentation of one’s intellect and creativity. It granted one mental prowess that seemed to ignore the logic and limitations of contemporary technology. But for whatever reason, that inventive ability seemed to manifest in only one person at any given time. Whenever a new Amethystus was born, the existing one appeared to suddenly lose their inventive ability. As such, there was always just one single Amethystus. 

Over the years, the Idinarohk Espers posited numerous theories as to why this was, but none of them were interested enough to delve deeper into the matter. One Amethystus alone would cause a disturbance in the human world. If there were two or three of them at once, the king might have had difficulty keeping his throne. 

“I saw Stanya…His Majesty turned pale with fear. Even though he knew he was sending you out to battle… You truly are lacking in filial piety.” 

“Oh, and you didn’t worry for me, Aunt Svetlana?” 

Svetlana curled her lips into a smile. Her facial features were smoother than one would assume from her small physique, and she looked very much like a young girl. One would be hard-pressed to believe she was older than the king. 

“Idinarohk serpents like us are not easily slain on the battlefield. We excavate every nook and cranny of the world and dissect our findings. Even when ruin befalls all creation, we venomous snakes will smirk and observe the phenomenon. Dying before the world does would be our greatest shame… If you were to die, I would preserve your remains with my own two hands. Ah, should I make a hair ornament out of your ribs?” 

Vika smiled wordlessly. He was well aware that he was a serpent who deviated from human sensibilities. But before him was Svetlana, who was lovingly patting the head of a dog resting atop the lap of her dress. No, not a dog’s head—a dog’s skull. 

Her villa was hidden deep in the royal palace’s garden, and this very room contained a great many engravings that looked like polished ivory or white coral. They were all fashioned from birds, cats, and hounds she fancied, as well as a wet nurse she was close to. 

In exchange for their transcendent intellect, many of the Idinarohk Espers seemed to lack something critical: their sense of ethics and empathy. The fact that Vika had been stripped of his succession rights to the throne wasn’t at all unusual in the royal bloodline’s history. 

What was being used as the audience chamber for the palace right now—a large room full of butterfly wings—was made by the first Idinarohk monarch, an Amethystus known as the mad king. He’d funneled the entire fortune of their winter country into breeding thousands upon thousands of those butterflies in one of their greenhouses, only to suddenly kill all of them. 

“By your will, Aunt Svetlana. This is why I can’t afford to lose to the Legion at this point. I’ve come to ask for your assistance. Please open your armory to me.” 

Svetlana narrowed her eyes teasingly with a hint of affection. 

“You’re still far too immature, dear Vika.” 

Vika stared plainly at her, taken aback by those words. With that same smile on her lips, Svetlana looked up, her eyelashes casting a heavy shadow over her violet eyes, which were a slightly bluer shade than Vika’s. 

“I know that, in your heart, you hate playing soldier… Lerchenlied, I believe her name was? Is that golden skylark of a girl so precious to you? That little songbird passed away so long ago now, but her words bind you still.” 

“Yes… Same as how Father is so dear to your heart, Aunt Svetlana.” 

Stanya. The king had several siblings, but the only one allowed to refer to him by his nickname was Svetlana. 

His aunt deepened her smile. 

“So it seems… Very well. Do as you will and take whatever your heart fancies. I could never bring myself to turn down a request from my precious brother’s son, after all.” 

“A grand conference?” 

“Yes. The details of the operation have been decided, so we need only turn to His Majesty, the prime minister, and the senate for approval during that grand conference.” 

Shin peered at a holographic operation map. He’d never seen them in the Eighty-Sixth Sector, but he eventually got used to them during his time in the Federacy. Lena nodded as Shin looked at the map and parroted her. 

“In other words, we need to explain the details of the operation to the United Kingdom’s VIPs. The crown prince, who is in charge of the second front, will handle most of the presentation, but I’ll have to answer some questions, too. I am a commanding officer of the squadron that’ll carry out the Dragon Fang Mountain operation, after all.” 

Shin paused to think for a few moments and then said: 

“The details of the second front… They’re details that should be reserved for the commander of a corps or perhaps even the entire army. I suppose that’s…something a commander of a battalion has no business knowing. That’s how I should interpret this, right?” 

There was no need for him to attend, even as a formality. 

“Yes… And also, the Sirins will be redeployed for this operation, but are you all right with that? I mean… Given what happened last time.” 

“Personally, I’d prefer if they didn’t accompany the Spearhead squadron.” 

Lena jerked her head up in surprise. She didn’t find fault with him speaking in a manner that seemed to evade the Sirins. If anything, she’d almost expected this. 

“Is their presence taxing on you?” 

“No, I just can’t tell them apart from the Legion.” 

The Legion used Liquid Micromachines fashioned after the neural networks of the war dead, while the Sirins’ “brains” were made of synthetic neurons reproduced from the brains of those whose lives could not be saved. Both were the same in the sense that they were still gripped by the final thoughts of the deceased. Shin’s ability made no distinction when perceiving them both as ghosts. 

“It can get confusing, especially during a melee… I can sort of tell the voices apart once I get used to them, though. So if possible, I’d rather have them in a designated company or have them act as our squad’s scouts.” 

“………” 

Lena heaved an exaggerated sigh. 

“That’s not what I meant. I didn’t ask you if it would compromise the operation. I wanted to know if it bothers you. On a personal level.” 

Shin blinked a few times at her unexpected admonishment. Even if she phrased the question like that… 

“They’re the same as the Legion… I’m used to them by now.” 

Shin’s ability to hear the ghosts’ voices had a wide range to begin with, and he was constantly hearing an overwhelming number of Legion. A few more voices joining that cacophony did little to change the strain it placed on him. Similar to how people who lived by the sea eventually stopped hearing the roaring of the waves, Shin didn’t feel like the constant voices of the ghosts were weighing down on him too much. 

Lena fell silent for a moment. It was a short, almost sulking silence. 

“You keep saying that, Shin, but…you fell asleep after the battle in the Republic’s underground terminal. And after we retook the base, too.” 

“The Sheepdogs being deployed during the battle at the terminal increased the volume of their voices, so that skirmish was… I mean, it’s not like I don’t sleep at night.” 

He did indeed sleep at night without issue, which was all the more remarkable when he became tired. 

“I know, but that’s not what I mean… I’m just worried because you never tell me you’re tired at times like that.” 

She then paused for a bit and leaned forward, as if using that moment to muster her courage. 

“I spoke to Lerche the other day.” 

Shin’s expression hardened at the sudden mention of that name. Lerche. She and her mechanical birds were possessed by the wailings of the dead. He once more recalled the mountain of wreckage, composed of their bodies. The laughter still echoed in his ears. 

And he remembered what she’d said to him. 

You get to be alive. 

His pride would eventually drive him to be a part of that mountain of corpses—and even that pride of his was superficial for a soldier. 

You can still find happiness with someone. 

The change in her attitude took him by surprise. And still, he couldn’t find it in himself to deny her words. 

The truth is… 

Another thought nearly surfaced in his mind, but he suppressed it at the last moment. He wasn’t allowed to think of those words. 

If I think about it, I… 

“She said you don’t really want to be on the battlefield—” 

“I could say the same of you, Lena.” 

He cut her off. He didn’t want to think about it. And even more so, he didn’t want to hear Lena tell him those words. He didn’t want her to doubt his pride. Fighting to the very end was what it meant to be an Eighty-Six, and he hated the idea of Lena, of all people, doubting him. And even if the Eighty-Six came to realize how meaningless that pride was…it was all they had. 

Shin only realized after he cut her off that he didn’t really have a follow-up, but he still took the opportunity to continue: 

“Lena… Have you ever thought I don’t want to fight anymore…? I mean, I understand that you willingly chose to fight, but…” 

He corrected himself quickly, seeing her eyes cloud over for a moment. Shin knew nothing about her… He had never even made an effort to know. He’d realized this back at the snowy cliffside fortress. What did she wish for? What did she fight so far for? How could she find it in herself not to give up on humanity? 

Shin wanted to know the answers to those questions even now. 

“…But still, you saw that siege route. And you saw the Republic fall to ruin… Haven’t you ever thought I’ve had enough? Haven’t you ever felt like you didn’t want to go on…? How could you not…bring yourself to feel that way?” 

Lena knew how vulgar and terrible people could be. She knew all too well that the world could be a malicious place, that the world of humankind wasn’t entirely made up of beautiful things. Yet still, she didn’t give up on it. 

“Is it because…? Hmm, well. Is it because this world has things worth loving?” 

He stopped for a moment, hesitating. He struggled to say those words because they felt too hollow to him. 

Shin knew people could be noble and kind, like the priest who protected him and his brother in the Eighty-Sixth Sector’s internment camp; like the captain of his first squadron, who fought alongside him and died, leaving him with the task of bringing all his comrades with him to their final destination; like his friend from the special officer academy, who fought for his sister’s well-being; like the Federacy officers who pushed him forward, even as they were going to be stranded in enemy territory. 

Shin could only see them as exceptions to the rule, but he knew Lena thought otherwise. Maybe it was just the difference in how much they’d experienced of the inherent good of humankind. Or perhaps, the paths they’d trodden to get here and the things they saw along the way were simply that different. 

Lena blinked in surprise a few times at the sudden questions and then leaned forward happily. 

“Where did that come from all of a sudden?” 

“…You were the one who started this conversation, Lena. You asked me if I could learn to love this world.” 

“I’m sorry; I’m just a little surprised because of how sudden this is, but…I’m glad you broached the subject. Right…” 

Lena smiled and closed her eyes. 

“I think it’s not just that there are things worth loving. It’s that there’s enough beauty in the world to outweigh the ugliness—enough virtue to compensate for its flaws, which allows me to love it. It’s not that I haven’t given up hope because I haven’t seen enough cruelty. It’s just…” 

Lena paused and tried find the right words. 

“…I want to believe… I want to believe this world can still become a place where people can live happy, peaceful lives.” 

Those were words Shin did not expect to hear. It wasn’t that she’d experienced more beauty in her lifetime, allowing her to see some innate goodness in the world he couldn’t fathom. 

“You want to believe, huh…?” 

…Believe in a beautiful world that was still out of sight and out of reach. 

“Yes. Because I want to be happy. I want everyone else to be happy, too. And I don’t want to live in a world where that can’t happen. I don’t want to live in a world where everyone has to be subject to malice and absurdity. I hate the very concept of such a place, and that’s why…” 

A just, kind world. He thought back to the words she’d told him once as they stood together under a starry sky on that snowy night. She spoke of a world where good will and kindness were rewarded, as if she was praying for it. 

Her wish wasn’t for kind people to be rewarded, but for everyone, equally, to know happiness. 

“And that’s why… It’s not that I couldn’t give up. It’s that I don’t want to give up. I don’t want to admit that the battlefield and the way the Republic treated the Eighty-Sixth Sector are the true faces of humankind. Nor do I want to accept that that can never change. Because then no one will find happiness. I want to be happy… And I want you to be happy, too…” 

“………” 

Shin couldn’t feel that way. He had no future to hope for. He could live even without happiness to pursue. In his mind, he fought because he wanted to show Lena the sea, but that was probably different from her idea of happiness. He couldn’t wish for a future or for happiness, and so he didn’t need to have faith in this world. He had no reason to love it. 

He vaguely thought he and Lena really were fundamentally different from each other. Not necessarily in terms of their individual experiences and the paths they had taken in life. Their very outlooks on life and the ways they interacted with the world were completely different. Their way of being, their personal circumstances—their every aspect was like night and day. 

Lena had said he’d broached the subject. And perhaps he did, in the sense that he did try to understand the other side. But receiving the answers to his questions only served to make the rift between them that much more obvious. They were too far apart to truly understand each other… So far that even if they were to reach out for each other, their hands would never meet. 

Shin had no way of knowing that Lena came to the same conclusion after the Charité Underground Labyrinth operation. Even if they were standing in the same place, the rift between them remained. 

Lena smiled, unaware of the turmoil in Shin’s heart. Her smile had all the delicacy of a flower. Yes, like a silver lotus blooming proudly even in the mud. 

“I want you to be happy, too… That’s why I have to believe in this world. That’s why I love it.” 

He hoped against hope that this happiness—a joy he could not wish for—would be granted to the world she loved… 

Lena became suspicious that something was very wrong when the escort from Vika arrived far too early for the grand conference, only to force Lena into another room for some reason, where a large number of court ladies awaited her. 

“Er, Vika?” 

She found him in his usual United Kingdom uniform, except this time, it had been customized for a ceremony. He didn’t have his standard rank ribbons but wore several medals and insignia and a grand cordon that extended diagonally down from his shoulder. He also wore the United Kingdom’s emblem of a unicorn instead of his lapel badge. 

“This is…a conference, right?” 

“That’s right.” 

He nodded casually, to which Lena pressed him with tears in her eyes. 

“Then why do I have to wear this thing…?!” 

She wore a dress with a sheer outer fabric embroidered together in an elegant fashion, boasting long, extravagant, flowing hems. The silver, transparent gauze beautifully complemented the lapis-lazuli lining beneath it. The dress’s cleavage and long sleeves were dotted with crystalline beads in the pattern of a peafowl’s tail and sparkled every time she moved. 

While she found the dress elegant and beautiful, to be sure, she had no idea why she was being forced to wear it. With all the crystal beads, the dress weighed about as much as her uniform. The hem of her uniform’s skirt was just as short as this dress’s, but being in this getup still made her anxious and restless. 

But even being fidgety was a challenge in this outfit, because the heels she was wearing were thinner and higher than she was used to. The silken hem of her dress jingled audibly. 

Vika gazed back at Lena with a puzzled expression. 

“…I think you look very good in it. Do you have any complaints? Oh, you must be disappointed Nouzen isn’t here to see this. I could call him over right—” 

“That’s not it! Sh-Shin has nothing to do with this! No, I mean, why?! Why am I going to a military conference in a dress instead of my uniform?!” 

“…? It’s only natural for women to wear dresses to formal events, even if they’re military personnel. It may be a military conference, but my father and brother will be attending. It’s closer to an Imperial council than a military one, frankly.” 

His tone seemed to suggest he wasn’t teasing her at all. If anything, it felt like he didn’t understand why she was asking him this question. In other words, in the United Kingdom, a woman’s formal attire was a dress, even if she was military personnel. It was probably a historical custom of this country, given that they didn’t send female soldiers to the field of battle. They only served as high-ranking officers. 

But still, attending a military conference in a frilly dress…? 

Lena was a daughter to a family of former nobles, so she was accustomed to wearing dresses. But uniforms and dresses were worn for different occasions and required different emotional states. If nothing else, Lena couldn’t imagine attending a war council in an evening gown. 

“Colonel Wenzel…!” 

She turned her gaze to Grethe for help, but the officer simply shrugged, clad in a gray dress herself. She’d brought a few dresses ahead of time, since she was due to meet with the king. Her dress had a tall, exotic collar and a short hem that gave off a sense of authority and a masculine silhouette. 

Had Lena been told of this before they left, she would have prepared a dress like that, too. It was handsome and reminiscent of a uniform. 

“When in Rome, do as the Romans do. We failed our last operation, so we should probably avoid doing anything that would be cause for disdain. Besides, you look cute.” 

“…Oh. So in the Republic and the Federacy, women wear uniforms as their full dress, too. That’s why you, Iida, and Rosenfort were in uniform when you first met me, even if it was in a military setting.” 

Vika seemed to have finally realized the difference in cultures. He nodded, seemingly satisfied. 

“At the very least, we don’t wear anything but full dress uniforms during formal events and ceremonies, Your Highness. Though, women do wear dresses for the parties that follow ceremonies—or for weddings.” 

“I see. In that case, this dress won’t go to waste after we went to the trouble of having it tailored… You can keep the whole set, Milizé, so take it with you when you go back home. I’d imagine it will prove useful until you find someone to escort you.” 

“Someone to…” 

Lena turned red at his implication. Besides her parents, the only one who would escort a woman in a dress would be… 

…her boyfriend or husband. 

“I—I don’t have anyone like that!” 

“Hence, until you find that someone. Or rather…” 

Vika seemed to eye her with a pitying gaze. 

“I doubt it’s possible, but don’t tell me you’re not aware of it yet?” 

“Aware of what?!” 

“I see, so you aren’t. That’s rather unfortunate… I would even call it irritating. To think both of you are like that…” 

Vika shook his head; it was a lamentation that Lena couldn’t understand—or perhaps, she refused to understand. 

Though the high officials were busy people, the continued existence of the United Kingdom hinged on the success of the upcoming operation. After a long series of discussions, the grand conference finally took a recess. 

Sitting in the corner of the large conference room, Lena sighed. Most of the officials had left the room, so there were only a few people around. Grethe was speaking to the attending military officers to exchange information, and Vika left, saying he had business with his aunt. 

No one seemed to wish to interact with an officer of the Republic. It was a country on its last legs, and her unit had also suffered a painful defeat. Lena didn’t mind not being spoken to, though. This was a conference attended by His Highness the King, and most of the people here were senior officials. Though it went without saying, she was intimidated. 

It was then that someone stood beside her, maintaining a polite distance. 

“Apologies, my lady. Would you grant me the honor of exchanging words with you?” 

“Yes, of course…,” Lena responded, turning around to face the figure, only to immediately stiffen. 

He wore a dark-violet uniform, with the United Kingdom’s emblem of the unicorn in place of a rank insignia. His hair was reddish-brown and held together with a long ribbon and an emerald hairpin. 

Lastly, he had a pair of Imperial violet eyes she’d grown used to seeing recently. 

“Y-Your Highness the Crown Prince…!” 

“Yes, but please be at ease. I merely came to greet you as an older brother and thank you for supporting Vika. I would have liked to call the Eighty-Six’s operations commander over as well, but unfortunately, the nature of this conference doesn’t allow for that.” 

The crown prince, Zafar, regarded her with a refined smile. He and Vika were born from the same mother, and so the two of them were quite similar. But in terms of height and shoulder width, Zafar had a physique that was more reminiscent of an adult man’s, as well as a more composed expression and the countenance of someone older and wiser. 

“I’m sure he gives you all sorts of trouble, such as having you attend this conference on your own… That boy has a way of being erratic, but I do hope you can get along with him.” 

His words and smile made Lena look at him with surprise. They somehow reminded her of Rei’s expression and tone, back when she had met him many years ago. 

“Your Highness, what are your—?” 

“Zafar will suffice, Colonel Milizé.” 

“…Prince Zafar, what are your, um, feelings regarding Prince Viktor?” 

Within the power struggles of House Idinarohk, Vika was part of Zafar’s faction. Vika seemed to respect and adore his maternal brother in his own way. Lena knew that. She could tell that much from the way Vika spoke about him. But she couldn’t say for sure how Zafar felt about Vika. 

Though it was a tradition of the United Kingdom, they still sent a boy who was only ten years old out onto the battlefield, where he could very well be abandoned in a time of crisis. And that was done without restoring his right to the throne. 

A part of her wondered if the royal family saw Vika—who had developed the Sirins, weapons that were an affront to humanity—as a capable man yet considered him detestable in their heart of hearts. 

But looking at the man standing before her, and the expression on his face… 

“He’s my precious younger brother… Though judging by that question, I assume that as a foreigner to these lands, you find him quite strange.” 

“………” 

Strange didn’t even begin to describe it. 

“Hmm. The Strike Package acts in cooperation with Prince Vika’s Sirins, so…” 

“Aaah, that’s right. I’ve already grown used to them by now, but… Yes, I see.” 

Zafar paused for thought. 

“Colonel, are you familiar with the catastrophe of Babylon?” 

Lena was bewildered by the sudden, seemingly unrelated question, but she gave a short nod. 

“…To the extent of what they teach in school, yes.” 

Once, in the past, humankind built a large tower to reach God’s seat in the heavens. This ambition incurred God’s wrath, who then placed a curse upon humankind, forcing them to speak in different tongues. This caused the creation of multiple languages and became the source of human conflict. 

It was a story from the Old Testament. When the Republic abolished the royal family three centuries ago, it also banned religion, which served as a backing for the royal mandate. To that end, most biblical stories weren’t often told or passed down in the Republic. Many people in the Republic didn’t even know the religious context of the Holy Birthday, despite it being celebrated annually. 

“In the myths that preceded the Bible, humankind built the tower so their prayers might reach the heavens, but the gods mistakenly thought humankind was trying to attack them and cursed them for that reason. Even the gods struggled to reach perfect understanding among themselves. So it was difficult for them to understand imperfect creatures like humans. Ironic, perhaps… But anyway…” 

Zafar trailed off and looked to the sky, as if gazing at the tower made up by people’s wishes in some faraway land. 

“…in my eyes, the fact that humankind began quarreling among themselves once they became unable to understand one another is quite striking. It means they did not truly trust one another when they spoke a common tongue.” 

Humans had a habit of infighting, but this didn’t stem from an ability to speak and agree. It came from a lack of trust. They looked upon one another and could not find something worthy of trust. 

Lena felt those words stab into her heart. Zafar likely didn’t intend it that way. There was no way he knew of her exchanges with Shin, since he’d never met him. But still, Lena couldn’t help but feel like Zafar was speaking about the two of them. 

“Even if two people suddenly began conversing in different tongues, their wishes should have been the same. If they knew that for a fact, they would believe in each other even if they lost the ability to communicate… And it is the same in our case. Even if he is a cold-blooded serpent, I would return his love so long as he loved me. I can believe in that affection, if nothing else.” 

Even if Vika was completely and utterly different from him in every other way. 

“He might not understand what makes people sad or why they feel sorrow. But he does understand when Father and I become sad and tries to avoid causing us grief… And that’s enough for me. He may not live according to the same logic and values I abide by, but he still tries to love me in his own way… He’s my precious younger brother.” 

“………” 

And how had Lena acted in contrast to this? 

That makes me…so sad. 

Shin, and the rest of the Eighty-Six, gave up on the world, deeming it a cruel, cold place. They cast aside their trust and expectations of the world. They relinquished what joy they could remember, as well as the future happiness they might have looked forward to. 

This saddened Lena. But what was even sadder was that Shin couldn’t understand why this made her sad. Because of the way he acted—like an innocent monster in human form—the rift between them was as wide as ever. It pained her and caused her to wonder if they would ever come to an understanding. 

I want him to understand me. I wish he were more like me… 

She had unconsciously started to wish for that. She had claimed she wanted to understand the Eighty-Six, when in truth, she never made an effort to understand them. Even if she couldn’t understand them, she could have tried to respect who they were. 

But instead, she simply wished for them to understand her. One-sidedly. 

You are truly arrogant. 

Yes. Arrogant and haughty. Self-righteous and narrow-minded… 

“…Prince Zafar.” 

She bit into her rouge-tinted lips, trying desperately to keep her tone steady, which conversely made her voice sound odd. Zafar graciously pretended to not notice. 

“Yes?” 

“If you and Prince Viktor are so different from each other, how…do you maintain your relationship?” 

“Oh, that’s quite simple. Some things I compromise on, while others I refuse to relinquish. For some things, I defer to him, while with others, I have him conform to my way of thinking. We both respect each other’s boundaries until we find a point of compromise. That’s how people normally interact… Though, it did take us years to get here.” 

“That’s… Yes, that’s right… You’re right.” 

There may be a rift between them. They may see the world in different ways. But if they tried to understand each other, little by little, then surely, she would one day be able to stand by his side. 

And there were things she could believe in… Things she was able to believe in even as far back as two years ago, before they truly met face-to-face. When they were still the oppressor and the oppressed… When they were all too different. 

She clenched her fists tightly beneath the sleeves of her dress. 

“Thank you very much, Your Highness.” 

“Usually, proper manners would dictate I escort you back to the barracks, but unfortunately, I still have business to attend to here. I called an escort over, so stay with them until you get back.” 

Lena’s time at the grand conference came to an end. Vika led Lena not to the exit leading outside the palace grounds, but rather, to a road going through the premises. It was a small paved path between the gardens that led into the Imperial villa the Strike Package used. 

In stark contrast to the warm and bright interior of the palace, the cold darkness of a wintry night hung over the garden. Well aware of the biting cold, Lena stayed in the area between the interior of the palace and the garden as she looked around. 

It was a surprisingly bright, starry night. Lena could see the same stars she had gazed up at with Shin before the Revich Citadel Base was captured. At the time, it seemed like Shin wanted to tell her something but ended up falling silent. She’d assumed he’d tell her later, but with the siege battle happening immediately after that, they never got back to it. 

What was Shin trying to tell her back then? What was he trying to express? 

…Would asking him about it now be the right thing to do…? 

Vika made a small exclamation. Lena was fixated on the sky, but Vika noticed something on the snowy road. Apparently, he had exceptional night vision, not unlike a cat’s. He was a serpent that could see the world for what it was without relying on light. 

“There he is. All right then, Milizé. Rest well tonight.” 

Apparently, he had no plans of speaking to whoever came to take her back to the villa, because he quickly turned around and left. As he walked away, his footsteps didn’t make a sound on the thick carpet. She could mostly tell he was gone by the rustling of his clothes and the scent of his cologne becoming thinner. 

And immediately after Vika left, the sound of snow crunching against light footsteps reached her ears. Even he, with the way he didn’t usually make any sound as he walked, couldn’t avoid it when treading over a road of brittle snow. 

Lena’s expression lit up as she saw his figure growing against the starlight reflected by the snow. 

“Shin!” 

“Shin!” 

Shin looked up at Lena, who was beaming upon noticing him, from within the snowy garden’s darkness. He stopped in place. 

Aaah… 

He’d come to a sudden realization. What made things click into place? Maybe the light around here felt too bright for his eyes, since he had grown used to the darkness of night. Or maybe it was the fact that he was seeing her in a dress and makeup for the first time, rather than her uniform. 

He couldn’t tell why himself, but it became clear all of a sudden. She wasn’t on the battlefield or a military base, but at a place far removed from the fires of war. She stood there not in uniform, but in an outfit reserved for peacetime. 

He was reminded of the sheer, irreparable depth and distance of the rift between them. The worlds they saw were different. The worlds they wished for were different. Which meant, in other words, that the worlds they belonged in—that they were allowed to exist in—were also different. 

Lena doesn’t need me. 

The way he saw her now was how she should have been. Lena never belonged in the chaos of the battlefield, but rather, in a world of peace and tranquility. She deserved to live in a world free of conflict. 

The battlefield was not her world. She didn’t need to know strife and death… The irrational absurdity of war didn’t belong anywhere near her. 

And Shin, who only knew war and its hardships, likewise had no place beside her. All he knew was conflict, and only in the midst of battle could he forge his own identity. Despite resolving to fight to the very end, he couldn’t imagine what lay beyond this seemingly endless war… 

He couldn’t even begin to imagine the kind of world she desired. He wanted to show her the sea—which was to say he could only imagine a future with her in it. But Lena didn’t need him to in order to survive. 

It was quite the opposite, actually. His presence would only hurt her. She wanted everyone to be happy, while he couldn’t imagine what might constitute his idea of joy. His way of living could very well serve as a weapon to harm her. 

She’d said it several times already, but Shin couldn’t even fathom it: 

That makes me…so sad. 

The fact that he couldn’t wish for his own future would only serve to hurt Lena. His failure to comprehend that simple fact had widened the rift between them more than anything else. He didn’t even try to understand her… He hadn’t even come close. 

She said she was saddened by him. That she was hurt. And yet he continued to hurt her. 

Wolves couldn’t live among humans. A monster of the battlefield that survived by stepping over corpses—a monster tainted by this world’s malice—couldn’t walk alongside this symbol of purity. 

The worlds they wished for, the worlds they lived in—their very ways of being were all too different. 

And so he realized an unsettling truth. They never belonged together to begin with. 

She assumed she’d be nervous, but her mental fatigue was greater than she’d imagined. Giving a strained smile at how stiff her body became at the prospect of him looking at her, Lena hurried down the stone steps leading to the garden. Shin approached her as she did, perhaps out of consideration for her clumsy gait along the frozen road, and looked up at her. 

“You came for me.” 

“I did. Even if this is within the palace’s premises, it’s still nighttime.” 

Something about the detached manner he’d delivered that answer struck her as oddly nostalgic, despite them only having been apart for a few hours. A guard hurried over from the palace, handing her the coat she’d apparently forgotten inside, and she put it over her dress with Shin’s aid. She turned around to face him. Perhaps due to the light of the snow, his white, marble-like face felt colder and more serene than ever. 

“My apologies… I kept you waiting.” 

“Not at all.” 

His reply was curt. Likely concerned about Lena having to walk along an icy road in high heels, Shin hesitated a short…no, a long moment before gingerly offering her his arm. Lena stiffened at the gesture for a moment… She knew lending a hand was considered good manners for a gentleman at times like this, but… 

I didn’t come across as…indecent…did I…? 

Lena was always a bit of a wallflower at social events like parties. She’d hardly ever been escorted like this. But she couldn’t deny that it was actually difficult to walk in these heels… So she mustered her courage and accepted his gesture. 

She grabbed hold of his arm in a way that seemed almost overly timid. She couldn’t bring herself to wrap her own arm around his, so she simply held on to his sleeve. Once she had done so, Shin started walking down the road with Lena by his side. Shin was even less used to escorting women than Lena was to being escorted by men, so their walk was as awkward as could be. 

The snow crunched under their feet as they left two sets of footsteps in their wake. Shin seemed to be matching Lena’s pace, because he was walking slower than usual. He usually moved quietly without making any sound, so hearing his footsteps sync up with her own felt satisfying in a way. 

Yes, Shin was conforming to her pace. 

He was always considerate of her, even without her noticing he was doing it… Always extending a hand. While Lena stood there, paralyzed by the rift between them…he still spoke to her, trying to understand her, despite the distance. 

And she wanted to answer those feelings. 

“Shin, if I…” 

Those were words she’d said many times already. From when they were still a hundred kilometers apart, with the Gran Mur between them. Before she knew his name and face—or the fate of certain death that was in store for him. And when they’d reunited, and she thought he was finally set free from that fate. 

“Once this war is over… No, even before it’s over…is there anything you’d like to do? Anywhere you’d like to go? Something you’d like to see?” 

Shin’s expression froze. He then said, with a horribly cold, dismissive tone: 

“This again?” 

He really does hate talking about this… 

Those words always sounded like blame to him. That wasn’t her intent, of course, but they were like a repeated condemnation. It was as if she’d told him that because he’d given up on the world, because he couldn’t see the world the same way she did, he saddened her. 

Shin sighed and continued speaking in a detached voice. And while that voice pushed her away, it also felt like he was enduring an indescribable pain. 

“…No, there’s nothing. As I said before, I don’t think the world is a beautiful place.” 

“Yes, I can imagine. That’s…how you see the world.” 

Lena uncomfortably said the words she didn’t fully believe until now. In this world, Shin had nothing to believe in. Nothing to look forward to. And she couldn’t blame him for that… As sad as it may have made her, no one could denounce the way he felt after the life he’d lived. 

He was deprived of his family, his home, and his freedom. He was forced into a fate of certain death. He had to see the world as ugly, as that was the only way he could avoid giving up entirely. To him, there was no beauty to be found in life. 

In Lena’s eyes, that was a bleak outlook to have… But she couldn’t say he was wrong. If nothing else, that was just how the world appeared to him. 

For you, those scars were your pride. 

Yes, scars. Lena and the Republic etched the deepest scars imaginable into his mind. And as she wondered beneath the citadel base’s starry sky, she couldn’t tell him to simply get rid of those scars. She couldn’t heartlessly take that away from him, even if the wounds caused him great pain. 

For Shin, the scars were a part of who he was. Maybe it was exactly because he’d had so much taken away from him that those scars had more weight than Lena assumed. In which case, she would have to accept his scars and despair as a part of him. There may have been a divide between them, but that divide was part of what defined Shin as a person… And she could not look past it. 

There was something in him she could believe in. Something she’d known ever since their time in the Eighty-Sixth Sector—and before she met him face-to-face. It was his strength. His pride. The childish mischievousness he sometimes exhibited, and the times he acted his age. And the kindness he didn’t seem to know he possessed—the other side of his icy facade. 

Lena decided to believe in that. They might not always be able to come to an understanding, but no matter how much distance there was between them, she would believe in that part of him. 

“And still…” 

“And still…” 

Shin could hardly focus on Lena’s words. He suddenly sank into contemplation. Lena’s question had dealt him a crippling blow, albeit inadvertently. 

Is there anything you’d like to do once this war is over? 

Lena had asked him this several times already, and Shin still couldn’t muster an answer. Not because he didn’t have one—he did—but he couldn’t bring himself to speak of it. 

I want to show you the sea. 

But that was a wish he’d made on his own, and he could no longer share it with Lena. He’d realized all it would do was hurt her. If he tried to be by her side as he was now, he would only cause her pain. He couldn’t walk alongside her. 

And that was why he couldn’t give his true answer. He didn’t want to grab hold of the hand she was extending toward him. Lena’s wish, her desire for everyone to achieve happiness, was one he couldn’t grant. He would only weigh her down. 

So I won’t wish to show you the sea. Never again. 

Incidentally, both Lena and Shin were so wrapped up in their thoughts that neither of them paid attention to their feet. And as a direct result of that… 

“…Aaah?!” 

Shin snapped out of it when the silver-haired girl to his side suddenly lurched to the ground with a hysterical screech. 

“Lena?!” 

The fact that he could reflexively catch her in his arms despite being lost in thought only a moment ago was thanks to his superhuman reflexes. But he hesitated for just a moment. For some reason, he was terribly afraid of touching her. And because of that, he was too late to properly support her and caught her in an awkward, uncomfortable manner. 

Fragments of transparent blue flitted at the edge of his vision. Apparently, they’d stepped on a lump of solid ice and slipped. For the time being, Shin asked the girl in his arms if she was all right. The lump of ice was hard enough to not break under their weight, and she’d stepped on it with her high heels. 

“Are you hurt…? Did you twist your ankle?” 

“I-I’m fine. I—I think.” 

Her bell-like voice was more high-pitched than usual, but Shin didn’t realize why. He didn’t notice she’d even sounded any different, for that matter. After all, she had already been close to him to begin with, but now he was holding her close to him as she was about to fall backward. In other words, while he wasn’t quite embracing her at the moment, he did have his arms coiled around her back and was holding her quite tightly. 

“Are you sure you’re fine? If you have a sprain, it might not hurt until a little later… If you’re not sure, I’ll carry you back to the barracks.” 

“N-no! That’s quite all right… Shin, I…I can stand on my own.” 

Upon hearing her thin squeak of a voice, Shin finally realized the position they were in. He became acutely aware of just how close her violet-scented perfume felt. 

“Ah, I’m sorry…!” 

He hurriedly let go of her but only after unconsciously confirming her feet were firmly planted on the ground. He worried her thin heels would break, causing her to stagger the moment he let go. 

Lena hung her head, her face redder than he’d ever seen before. The stiff silence lasted longer than he expected, which made Shin progressively more concerned. Just as he started wondering if he ought to apologize again, Lena suddenly burst into laughter. She chuckled, her voice like the chiming of a bell. 

“I-I’m sorry… But…!” 

She kept chuckling, leaning forward as if her body had folded in half. Shin was soon unable to help himself and asked: 

“What is it?” 

“Nothing, it’s just… You really are kind.” 

Shin was perplexed by those sudden words. He couldn’t see how anything he said or did in this conversation could possibly be seen as kind. 

“It always seems like you’re not looking at anyone, but you never stop caring, and you never leave anyone to their fate… And you always help me, just like this.” 

“…You’re exaggerating.” 

“No, I’m not. See? Even now…” 

“You caught me. You were worried I’d gotten hurt. You looked out for me.” 

Lena spoke while wiping away the tears that had pooled in her eyes from laughing too hard. He really wasn’t aware of it… Helping others came so naturally to him that he couldn’t even perceive it as kindness. 

Yes. That’s why I can believe in you… 

That’s why she could continue to wish for his happiness, even after she came to know he himself could not. 

“Shin, I want to continue our conversation from before… I’m not trying to say I’m sad. I’m not taking back what I said before, but I won’t speak of it anymore. I just…” 

She had no intention of retracting her previous statement… But if it made Shin look at her with that pained expression, she wouldn’t say it again. However, she did have one other thing she wanted to convey in the moment. 

“Even if the world you see isn’t beautiful… Even if the human world is cruel… If you can still have hope in spite of that…” 

Shin would say he could live without wanting for anything. That he was who he was, even without a past to fall back on. But if a day would come when he could find it in himself to hope again… 

“If you still find something you want for yourself in this world…then I want you to know you’re allowed to wish for it. Even if this world seems just as cruel and heartless as ever. We are no longer in the Eighty-Sixth Sector. Your wish could come true. I just…want you to remember that.” 

If you say you don’t need to wish for anything, that’s fine. I really hope you do start wishing for things, but for now, it’s fine. But I don’t want you to admonish yourself by saying you don’t have the right to want things for yourself. 

That was truly all she wanted to convey right now, but her mouth kept going on its own, expressing a bit of her own personal wish. Even though she didn’t know if she would be at Shin’s side on the day he started to have hope again, she still made an unconscious wish to be with him when he did. 

“And if you don’t mind… When the time comes, please share your wish with me.” 

Shin was at a loss for words at the sight of this flowery smile. Lena didn’t know about his wish, and that was why she could say these words. She spoke in the same way a child might describe their dreams for the future, and nothing else. 

But… 

“You’re allowed to wish for it.” 

Was he really? He’d finally found something to wish for—a reason to fight. To show her the sea. To show her things she’d never seen before and bathe in her smile. 

Was that truly something he could wish for? He hoped it was. 

He was surprised by the emotion that surged up within him, and that’s when he knew. He wanted to have hope. If he could be forgiven for doing so—no, even if he wouldn’t be forgiven for it… He wanted to. 

He knew it would hurt her, but he still wanted to be by her side. He’d finally found something to fight for, and he didn’t want to let go of it now. Even though he knew he shouldn’t touch her, that he had to push her away, he still caught her in his embrace when she fell. For that one moment, he forgot the rift between them—he forgot all his reservations—and treated her as he always did. 

His unconscious actions told the whole story. He didn’t want to let go of her now. He still thought of himself as a monster and knew he could only hurt her. But despite that… No, because of that— 

—he couldn’t stay as he was. 

He couldn’t be with this girl who wished for the future, not while his heart still carried this void that forbade him from having hope. If he believed he would hurt her, then he would have to change. 

He needed to change if he wanted to fight by her side. 

What did he want for himself? How could he change? Would he truly be able to imagine the future—something he’d never even imagined before…?