A Hero's Unexpected Welcome
Tilting my head in bewilderment as I echoed his words, the reply that came back utterly surpassed my imagination.
"It's an honor to meet the esteemed Major in person!"
The soldier wore an expression like he'd just been genuinely moved. His insignia marked him as a sergeant—hardly a rank that needed to butter me up.
'He respects me... why?'
No, in a world with even a shred of normalcy, this shouldn't happen. How desperate for heroes do you have to be?
"Me...? For what reason?"
"Piercing the enemy's weak spot without a hint of fear and hijacking their warship! How could anyone not respect a tale straight out of a novel? Could I maybe... shake your hand?"
"A handshake? Sure, why not."
It wasn't a tough request, so I clasped his hand and gave it a quick shake.
"I'll never wash this hand."
'No, dude, you absolutely should wash your hands.'
His reaction made it clear: he saw me as some kind of celebrity.
'When you look at what I've done, yeah, it does sound like novel stuff.'
Still, I couldn't wrap my head around the respect, but what was there to complain about? Hate? Nah, admiration was fine by me.
"I'm not that great a guy."
"Even after receiving the First-Class Military Merit Medal, that humility... You're truly something else."
One little line of banter, and he was over the moon.
'Yeah, spread those good rumors far and wide.'
A better image meant better business for Oclo Trading Company—indirectly, of course.
"Thanks for saying that. Anyway, what's the entry procedure here?"
"We've been expecting you, so just show your ID badge."
"Here."
As always, first entry required ID verification.
"Thank you. Looking forward to seeing you around! Loyalty!"
"Good work."
I returned a casual salute and stepped into the military base housing the Western Support Unit.
"Nice facilities."
This place wasn't just the Western Support Unit—it hosted the Western Border Guard Command, the Intelligence Command's Western Investigation Unit, and more. With all those key buildings, the scale and amenities were top-notch.
'Heard they have circulating wagons. That must be it.'
Near the main gate, a cluster of people gathered at what looked like a station. Approaching cautiously, I spotted a familiar signboard.
Shuttle Wagon Stop
Frequency: Every 15 minutes, additional shuttles during commute hours
Stops: Main Gate → Border Guard Command HQ → Grand Parade Ground → Supply Command Western Base → No.1 Mess Hall…
'Every 15 minutes? Not bad at all.'
Plus extra during rush hours—the transport battalion here clearly knew their stuff.
'Gotta find that BBQ spot too.'
I joined the end of the line, waited a bit, and boarded the next arriving wagon.
'Around 12 seats, huh.'
Pathetic compared to the buses back in Korea.
'Low output's the issue. Can't they make something bigger, like a proper bus?'
First thought: magic engines, of course. Surprisingly, drive circuits for wheels existed and were even developed. Nobody used them because horses were dozens of times cheaper.
'Even the emperor won't touch 'em—too extravagant, no matter how rich you are.'
But let's think about it.
'Run double-decker buses packed full—still a loss?'
I'd need to crunch numbers, but having ridden modern buses, the idea intrigued me.
'Tech's been shelved, so no advancements. Optimize the circuits, tweak a few things... could be viable.'
Worth consulting an expert later.
"Supply Command Western Support Unit."
Lost in thought, we passed a few stops before the wagon halted at the Western Support Unit.
"Getting off."
Standees had crammed in by now, so I squeezed through and disembarked.
"Here we are."
The main building jumped out immediately upon exit. Three stories tall, impressively large.
'Clean exterior—nice.'
Didn't look newly built, but well-maintained.
"What's going into 1st Division today?"
"Three thousand winter gloves, two thousand cotton blankets."
"Quality stuff, right?"
"They say so, anyway."
"Damn it! After all the heads that rolled for empty promises, hustle!"
As I reached for the door, a major and a captain rushed past, frantic.
'Busy as hell. Makes sense—the emperor's pissed about supplies; no room for slacking.'
From the moment His Majesty called out the shortages, this place was a warzone. And unfortunately, my role? Frontline general in that war.
"Excuse me, quick question."
I flagged down a lieutenant who seemed to work the first floor.
"Loyalty! What is it, sir?"
"Just got assigned as Planning Officer. Know where the department is?"
"Uh... uh-huh."
Something off in my question? The lieutenant froze, eyes darting wildly.
"You don't kno—"
"Heard? He's the new Planning Officer."
"Palan Oclo, right? Finally here."
"A major that young?"
"You sort the files? Screw up, and we're done."
Sudden stares burning my nape, murmurs flying. Situation felt off.
'Why the panic? I'm not here to ruin anyone.'
I had zero intention of tanking lives.
"Major Palan."
As I pondered, an unfamiliar voice called from behind.
"Loyalty."
Turning, I saw a colonel—name unknown.
"Wondered when you'd show. Today, huh? Follow me; I'll guide you."
"Y-yes, sir!"
No clue who he was, but I trailed him anyway.
"Straight from the capital must've been rough. Holding up okay?"
"A bit tired, but manageable."
"As rumored: a man who never tires."
'Bullshit. I tire like crazy.'
My mind was already fried.
"Ha... haha, you're too kind."
Scratching my cheek, I eyed the man.
"Sorry to ask so bluntly... may I have your name?"
I broached it delicately.
"Oh, forgot the intro? Colonel Garad, Budget Operations Officer."
"The boss himself."
Budget Operations.
'That's where I wanted to be.'
Desk job, just calculators—no sweat. Sure, headaches aplenty, but sweeter than my gig.
"New supply contracts? We'll cross paths often. It's under my purview."
"Haha, yeah, probably."
"Our offices are right across from each other. Need anything, drop by."
We hit the third floor right on cue—Planning and Budget Ops facing off, as he said.
'This screams "second office" vibes. Bad omen.'
"Meet the team, catch you later."
"Thanks for the escort."
He waved and vanished into his office.
"Whew, here goes."
Deep breath, then I pushed the door.
Creeeak.
Un-oiled hinges screeched—a chill ran down my spine. Like a bell, every eye snapped to me without a word.
"Uh, pleased to meet you all. I'm Major Palan Oclo, your new Planning Officer."
Awkward as hell.
But as the head honcho, I kept it cool, confident—no weakness.
'First rule of superiors: don't get eaten alive.'
Look strong, or you're done.
"Loyalty!!"
"Loyalty!"
My pro act landed—everyone rose and saluted.
"At ease, sit down. Who's the second-in-command here?"
"Captain Dennis, sir. Welcome to Western Support. Should've met you at the gate—sorry."
A captain from the back approached, bowing.
"How'd you know when I'd arrive? Anyway, my desk?"
"Prepped in the back. And speak freely, sir."
"Cool, got it."
Zero hesitation—I accepted Captain Dennis's offer.
'No hazing vibes. Lucky.'
My rocket promotion meant I was technically lieutenant by seniority. Worried about pushback, but so far, smooth.
"It's the old chief's spot. That okay?"
"Perfect. This'll do."
Deep corner desk. Previous guy knew how to score perks.
'Nap here, no one'd notice.'
Ideal.
"The old chief left abruptly, so no handover docs."
"Heard. Any old ones?"
Previous chief? Under embezzlement probe by Audit Division.
'Dead man walking.'
No tears for thieves.
"In the drawer."
"Roger. I'll check."
Scanning the room, staff trickled over.
"Warrant Officer Kyle, Clothing Section. Heard so much—honor to meet you."
"Nah, nothing special. Nice to meet you."
White-haired warrant officer, neatly combed. Mutual respect—no informal talk.
"Clothing Section Captain Bern here with him!"
"Captain Bern, pleased."
"Weapons Section Warrant Officer Haman..."
Introductions rolled on.
Simple structure: clothing, bedding, weapons, etc. Total headcount: just over twenty.
'Decent size.'
Meant plenty for me to handle.
"Captain Dennis."
"Yes, sir?"
Post-intros, reviewing handover, I called nearby Dennis.
"Check with adjutant on check-in timing."
"Already did. Commander's out on travel, so deputy'll handle afternoon."
"Afternoon it is."
Lunch then.
"Quarters application?"
"Handled it. Field officer Block 3, Room 207."
Planned to hotel it tonight, but Dennis preempted.
'What an ace.'
Adjutant queries to personal quarters—anticipated everything.
'A soldier this proactive? Spy check needed. For real.'