First Meeting at Mephauric Camp (Part 2)
The door creaked open.
Inside were a man in his sixties, a middle-aged man in his forties, and a teenage girl.
Given that most of the camp's soldiers and refugees were naturally older than me, a mere 23-year-old, and considering the ages of the top brass—Joint Chiefs Chairman Ernest Robe at 85, Army Chief of Staff Kenneth McNairy at 76, Navy Chief of Staff Quincy Ivory at 79, and Air Force Chief of Staff Macbeth Bradley at 78—the chances of spotting someone younger than me were exceedingly low.
Thus, my gaze inevitably lingered on the girl for a moment.
Moreover, since soldiers would provide an escort if I went out in uniform to guard against potential threats, I had donned a dark brown trench coat, scarf, and homburg hat to signal otherwise.
"Welcome."
"Pardon me, but do you get customers here?"
"Yes, though it's hardly surprising, is it?"
"The camp distributes essentials, so why would anyone pay for them?"
"Yes, many grow tired of the rations."
"It's always the same things. Some even say they've had enough Spam to last three meals a day and can't stomach it anymore."
"I'd like to know your names."
"I'm Silvrin Howard, and this is Mike Jim."
"And this young lady is Michelle Merin. She works as a baker."
"This is Richard Jeracle Lennox, current U.S. Secretary of Defense."
"What?!"
"Calm yourselves. I merely passed through the bustling streets, spotted this bakery out of curiosity, and decided to stop in. But leaving empty-handed feels regrettable, so I'll purchase a few loaves."
Thud.
Thud.
"Here you are."
"That'll be 50 dollars."
"Still using the reserve currency, I see."
"Um, actually... this is the first time I've received 50 dollars at once since starting this business."
"So, plenty of visitors, but they buy a few scraps out of bare necessity rather than taste. It seems I'm destined to be your first and last regular customer. Until next time."
With that, I left the bakery named Łaskawe Niebo—Gracious Heaven.
I made sure not to show any disappointment and slipped away from the main streets to avoid the soldiers' eyes before sampling the bread.
"My tongue isn't just an electronic sensor for flavor analysis—it's genuine. Plenty of time to savor it properly. Let's see how it tastes."
Crunch.
"Quite palatable. Excellent. I'll secretly tuck some of these—bought with my own funds—into the supply crates. People might not notice, but it's too good to hoard alone. I'll share portions with the soldiers too, survey their preferences. Unlike Cleas handling Earth, supplies here are a mountain of worry. Something novel will quell complaints swiftly as they enjoy it."
Michelle's Side – At the same time.
"Phew, of all places, the Secretary of Defense shows up here."
"Indeed. His heart must be heavy amid the chaos, yet he mentions returning often. Perhaps a metaphor for seeing your face frequently?"
"Michelle's grown so well with us these past five years since her birth on March 5, 2030, during the catastrophe. It might be time to formally pass this on to her."
"Yes. This bakery was built on those two safes stuffed with her family's precious metals."
"She wandered barefoot in tattered white rags, clutching those severed heads of her parents. What still baffles me is why Michelle bore not a single wound."
"Who knows. Even the soldiers tremble at the sight of her and slink away. Truly odd, right? She's just the daughter of a top Polish corporate magnate, composed entirely of perfect, innate goodness."
"Exactly... Dismissing her as merely well-raised under fine parents undersells her virtue. She's literally someone who dreams of strength through humility. At just four years old, she declared that without humility, no good deed is possible; all goodness culminates in humility, and sustaining it for the world's safety and prosperity requires unwavering hope. She even claimed that's why God created humanity. To her, charity is talent, kindness is effort, patience is faith, purity is self, temperance is confidence, diligence is respect."
"Right. I was awestruck. She believes social norms serve good, absolute justice aligns with providence, and it holds meaning only when upheld peacefully. She strives to fortify those rules, understands and cares for others, yet confronts injustice head-on like a legendary knight of justice."
"Such purity is rare; even when present, its pursuit of perfect order exhausts others without earning hatred. But she bends when needed, plants her beautiful dreams in hearts to gain consent, highlights contradictions in old ways—calling them simple yet describing their complexity to expose unawareness. Complaining of fatigue seems impudent by comparison. She might be humanity's cure, born unyieldingly humble and righteous."
I overheard every word with my superhuman hearing.
For reasons unknown, at age four when I first spoke fluently, I found a brilliantly glowing white fragment in the mansion garden. Grasping it, it pierced my heart, merging with my body in an indescribable surge of energy. Vast white wings sprouted, far larger than me.
I could conceal them, so I quickly learned to wield this fearsome power.
Eleven years later, at 15, a pale grim reaper in black coat and fedora appeared, splitting the mansion with one punch, beheading my parents and servants. As his hand chop aimed for me, the white fragment shielded me unscathed.
The reaper, dark circles stark under his eyes, stared before vanishing.
Afterward, amid the ruins, I clutched the two intact safes of valuables and my parents' severed heads, weeping bitterly.
Step.
Step.
"Yes. So, what are your plans now?"
"Eh... you heard everything?"
"Yes. Is it time for me to take over?"
"Well, something like that..."
"Honestly, I never expected the Secretary himself. His heart must weigh heavy..."
"Probably. But some might hate him via guilt by association, no different from war-mad fanatics."
"True. One who needs healing forced to heal others—like a doctor treating patients while ill himself."
"That's why we want to help people, like you once did. We'll enlist in the UN forces under his lead, becoming true Peacemakers—not mere Peacekeepers—the first step toward creating peace."
"It's as if your dream sparked this: us meeting you, leading to the U.S. Secretary of Defense taking interest."
"Even in rags with scant means, you fetched food and water alone for the injured and elderly. You explained to soldiers and hippie terrorists why harming innocents is wrong, sending them away."
"Yes. Some might call it worthless, but I won't mind. It's just whining about unfairness when it hasn't touched them."
"Good. Do you want to inherit this shop?"
"Beyond baking, you'll handle serving, cleaning, accounting alone? You could hire help, but that means micromanaging instead of fostering independence. Won't that burden you?"
"No. I value order and goodness equally, pursuing order through goodness. I'll manage as I always have. If the Secretary visits often, that's enough for me."
"Ha... really?"
"You like him that much?"
"Us too, enough to discard?"
"No, not that... Even if crowds come, I don't want to forget my regulars."
'Sigh... Actually, sudden fame would poison things right now.'
"Just kidding. Take care."
"Don't worry. You might see us on TV. Perhaps the Secretary will return with you both."