The Superior Orphan Chloe (3)
The truck rumbled along the uneven road, its wooden frame creaking with every jolt. I sat stiffly across from the man who had just introduced himself.
“Klaus Müller.”
“…What do you mean all of a sudden?”
“That’s my name, recruit.”
“Yes, sir. My name is Chloe Winterland.”
“Winterland?”
“It’s the name of the orphanage where I was born.”
Hmm.
The conscription officer—no, Klaus—gave a short nod.
“From now on, call me Sergeant Müller.”
“Yes, Sergeant Müller.”
“You adapt quickly. Impressive.”
“Thank you, sir.”
To someone like me who had already survived military service in Korea, this was child’s play.
All that remained was to ride out the war safely in the rear, sucking up every sweet advantage I could get.
If the war drags on longer than expected, mages still get stationed in the rear…
It would be safe.
It had to be safe.
I wasn’t crazy enough to throw away my own life.
Just moderately insane.
Muttering that to myself, I stole a quick glance at Sergeant Müller.
Oh. Nice expression.
He had a cigarette clamped between his lips, staring blankly out at the passing scenery.
I decided to test the waters with a question.
“Sergeant Müller, sir.”
“Yeah?”
“Are there no other children besides me?”
“They’re in the other trucks. This one was the last. I was supposed to ride alone.”
I watched his reaction carefully before answering.
“I’m sorry.”
“…What are you apologizing for?”
“I’m sorry for getting on the truck that was supposed to be just for you, sir.”
“Tsk.”
Sergeant Müller clicked his tongue and raised his hand.
A hazing ritual?
Was he going to hit me for being a new recruit?
Had I crossed the line with that last comment?
Memories of the orphanage flooded my mind, spawning a dozen anxious thoughts.
Then—
Swipe.
Something completely unexpected happened.
I quickly lifted my head and dodged.
“Why did you….”
“I was patting your head, recruit.”
“Pardon?”
“A fifteen-year-old girl shouldn’t make that kind of face or say those kinds of things. Well, it’s fine once you’re officially a soldier. But you haven’t enlisted yet, have you?”
He was a far more decent adult than I’d expected.
Which made him even more interesting.
I wonder if I can torment him a little more. I’d love to see a wider variety of expressions from him.
“Thank you, sir.”
“When you’re with me, you can relax.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I said relax.”
“This is comfortable for me, sir.”
I maintained a perfect ninety-degree posture and answered in the same rigid tone as before.
Sergeant Müller frowned and looked away.
He seemed to have finally given up on me.
Good. This level of distance was just right.
I might not be officially enlisted yet, but I would be soon. A fresh recruit.
Soon to become Private Second Class Chloe Winterland.
Here’s a question for you.
Would a private second class who actually relaxes when an officer tells them to be at ease be considered trash? Or not?
Utterly worthless trash.
As a model prospective soldier, I had simply shown him the proper attitude.
And collected a nice expression while I was at it.
.
.
.
The jolting of the carriage gradually began to ease.
We had reached a smoothly paved road.
In other words, we were entering the city.
My eyes sparkled as I gazed out of the truck.
“…Is this your first time in a city?”
“Yes, sir.”
I immediately checked his expression and straightened my posture again.
“I keep telling you it’s fine to relax right now….”
“This is comfortable for me, sir.”
“There you go again. Where in the world is there a person who finds that position comfortable?”
Maybe I could loosen up a little?
He really did seem like a good person.
…Get a grip. Just because he has a nice face doesn’t mean I should let my guard down.
Even a good adult who feels guilty about child soldiers has his limits.
I couldn’t show any lack of military discipline in front of a conscription officer.
Who am I?
I was Chloe Winterland. A connectionless orphan. A prospective private second class about to enlist in the military.
The man sitting across from me was a military conscription officer. Rank: sergeant. Which meant he had between eleven and fourteen years of service.
He looked young, but… he was most likely a middle-aged man.
Honestly, I was a little jealous. That kind of youthful appearance was enviable.
Objectively speaking, Sergeant Müller’s face was that of a classic handsome young man.
Black hair and blue eyes that complemented each other perfectly—a Western-style pretty boy, you could say.
Beautiful girl, beautiful boy, beautiful woman, handsome man.
Yes. Beautiful people displayed the most varied and delicious expressions.
I hid the smile that threatened to escape.
As if noticing my gaze, Sergeant Müller’s eyes turned toward me.
I hurriedly looked away.
It was rude for a mere private to stare so openly at an officer.
“…What is it?”
“It’s nothing, sir.”
“You were staring at my face for quite a while just now.”
“It’s nothing, sir.”
“That’s a lie.”
I kept my mouth shut for a moment.
Since he had caught me lying, from here on out… I would charge straight ahead.
There was a saying that even a whale would dance if you praised it, after all.
I just had to be honest.
“I thought you were handsome, sir.”
“…What?”
“In the Winterland Orphanage, the only men I’ve ever seen were boys my own age, the director, and the caretakers.”
“……”
“The reason I relaxed my posture earlier was because the outside world was so dazzling. I wanted to look around. I’m sorry, sir.”
Sergeant Müller frowned slightly.
Had I stepped on a landmine? Had I said something that might offend him?
Ah, maybe it had sounded like I was making excuses for my mistake.
He had probably heard “handsome” so many times with a face like that that it no longer moved him.
My mistake.
The survival instincts I had honed from being bullied in the orphanage began searching for an escape route, but none appeared.
—Or so I pretended.
Ah. Another good expression.
After a long pause, Sergeant Müller finally spoke.
“Don’t apologize.”
“…Pardon?”
“If the outside is dazzling, then look at it. Observe people’s faces too.”
“……”
“That’s an order. Look outside. And relax your posture.”
An order.
I immediately obeyed.
Because it seemed sincere.
Sergeant Müller stood up from his seat.
I continued carrying out the order.
He naturally moved behind me and spoke again.
It tickled a little near my ear, but I endured it.
“What kind of expressions are they making?”
“…Pardon?”
“The people’s faces. What expressions do they have?”
“They look ordinary, sir. There are expressionless people, crying people, laughing people—many different kinds.”
Sergeant Müller fell silent for a moment.
I kept staring outside, tense.
“Remember them well.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Aren’t you going to ask why?”
“I was taught that harboring questions is not a soldier’s duty, sir.”
“Just what the hell were they teaching you at that orphanage?”
His tone sounded slightly angry, so I reflexively flinched.
It was perfectly natural.
Satisfying.
“I wasn’t angry at you.”
“Yes, sir.”
“…We’re almost there. Do you have any questions?”
Questions, huh.
I already knew the model answer.
To say I had none.
I had literally just said it myself moments ago.
That a soldier’s job was to carry out orders, not to harbor doubts.
I had no intention of going back on that.
But Sergeant Müller seemed to be hoping I would ask something.
Ah. There were people like this sometimes.
People who couldn’t accept a child who had grown up too quickly and desperately tried to find some trace of childishness in them.
Right now, Sergeant Müller was trying to find that childish side of me.
…Heh.
A genuinely kind adult. How long had it been since I’d seen one?
I pondered for a long time before asking a question.
“Is it true that there are only five types of magic in this world, sir?”
“Strictly speaking, no.”
The answer I had been hoping for came.
When I showed him a fake smile, Sergeant Müller naturally smiled back.
“So you can make that kind of face too.”
“Ah, excuse me.”
“It’s not rude.”
I remained silent.
Sergeant Müller continued from his previous answer.
“There are many different kinds of mana in this world, and each person’s mana type is unique.”
“Is that so, sir?”
“You really don’t know even the basics. Did they not teach you anything like that at the orphanage?”
“No, sir. The environment was very poor.”
Frowning, Sergeant Müller answered in a slightly irritated tone.
He’s angry?
“It seems your orphanage valued military spirit and patriotism far more than basic common sense.”
“That does seem to be the case, sir.”
“…I’ll explain more about magic to you.”
My eyes sparkled.
More precisely, I pretended to be interested.
Since Sergeant Müller seemed to want me to act like a child, I showed him what he wanted.
That was all.
“I said that magic differs according to the type of mana, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“There are even spells created for just one single person.”
“…Pardon?”
“We call those Stars. Every person carries the potential to create their own unique Star.”
Their own Star.
Sergeant Müller continued.
“And in the Kranz Empire, only eleven mages have ever reached the realm of Star. All of them are active on the front lines.”
“…The front lines, sir.”
“Want an example?”
“Yes, please.”
His eyes sparkled.
They were the eyes of a child who admired heroes.
Even someone who had been in the military for over ten years could still make that face.
I unintentionally had such a rude thought.
In a slightly excited voice, Sergeant Müller gave an example.
“The person who created the spell called Heavenly Explosion and received the title of Star can drop explosives from the sky. Isn’t that amazing!”
“……”
“What’s with that expression?”
“No, it’s nothing, sir. Can I use that spell too?”
“Of course not. Only the person who created a Star can use it.”
To be honest, I was a little disappointed.
The title of Star. In a fantasy genre.
I had immediately thought of Sword Saint or Archmage.
But just making explosives in the air and dropping them was enough to earn the title of Star?
I carefully read his mood for a while before choosing a question that would improve Sergeant Müller’s mood.
“Then, can I create a Star too, sir?”
“Dream on. In the entire history of the Empire, fewer than fifty people have done it.”
I pouted with a disappointed expression.
“…Is that so.”
“Well, it’s not completely impossible. So don’t make that face.”
“Yes, sir.”
Sergeant Müller looked outside, then knocked twice on the wall separating us from the driver’s seat.
Thud. Thud.
Screeech.
The truck came to a stop.
My body swayed sideways from the inertia.
“We’re here. Get off.”
“Yes, sir.”
