The Cost of a Soldier's Life
The marble walls of the vast, austere Ministry of Defense operations conference room were lined with heavy portraits of the Empire’s legendary war heroes. At the center of the enormous round table sat the men who bore the weight of the Empire’s fate—the highest-ranking officers of the Imperial Army, led by General Clausewitz. In one corner, Serian sat as the representative of the Armaments Bureau.
…Why on earth am I even here?
With a lifeless expression, she rested her chin on her hand and quietly munched on the cookies laid out on the table. None of the meeting’s content reached her ears. She simply wished for it to end as quickly as possible.
“…Therefore, the 1st Special Mobile Battalion—commonly known as the Night Ghosts—founded and trained by Development Officer Serian Elhardt, will be deployed to launch a surprise recapture of Silver Horn Fortress.”
Night Ghosts, my ass… Just a bunch of budget thieves. They burned through dozens of times the allocated budget in three months.
Serian grumbled inwardly while glancing at the new equipment displayed on one side of the room. The aerial mobility device had been completed in a far more elegant and lethal form than the initial prototype. Subtle blue Moonstone gleamed against its matte black alloy.
One of those things costs a hundred years’ salary for an ordinary soldier…
The past three months had been nothing short of a nightmare. She had tried every trick imaginable to delay mass production and sabotage the project, yet every single attempt had ended in perfect failure.
The first operation was the so-called “Luxury Strategy.” At the very beginning of the mass-production phase, Serian had made a firm declaration before all the responsible parties.
“Not a single defective unit can be allowed to exist.”
“Aerial mobility is directly tied to a soldier’s life. Therefore, every piece of equipment must be handcrafted from start to finish by the Armaments Bureau’s finest artisans, tailored to each soldier’s physical data.”
It had been the perfect excuse. Production would crawl at a snail’s pace, taking not three months but three years. The project would naturally stall and eventually collapse under budget issues. Valentine and several others had looked troubled, but Serian had refused to budge an inch.
However—her “impossible demand” was interpreted by the Bureau’s top artisans as a test of pride issued by a genius.
“Chief! The greatest genius in the Empire has entrusted this task to us! If we say we can’t do it, what does that make us?”
Valentine had scoured the entire Empire, even dragging out legendary artisans who had retired or gone into hiding. Dozens of artisans, gathered with pride in participating in a project of the century—and with fierce competitive spirit toward one another—refused to leave the furnaces day or night.
“Hah, old man Volkan! Still at that pace? I’ve already finished two sets!”
“Shut it, you brat! Speed isn’t what matters—perfection is! Look at the delicate balance of this mana circuit!”
As a result, the production speed that should have been absurdly slow was miraculously shortened, barely meeting the three-month deadline. Moreover, soldiers had been allowed to observe the artisans’ work, and they began to see the equipment being handcrafted to fit their bodies as the ultimate “masterpiece” a human could create. Their anxiety toward the new gear melted away like snow, and wearing it became a matter of family honor—proof of recognition as elite operatives.
The production delay operation had failed miserably.
The second was the “Budget Explosion Operation.” One day, at a regular budget report meeting attended by officials from the Ministry of Finance and the Ministry of Defense, Serian made a bombshell announcement.
“We must not overlook the fear and psychological anxiety soldiers will feel during night training. We need to embed the highest-grade Moonstone into all equipment to provide psychological stability.”
The finance officer dispatched from the Ministry of Finance shot up from his seat in horror.
“D-Development Officer! Do you even know how much one piece of highest-grade Moonstone costs right now? If we do that, the allocated budget will—!”
Before he could finish, Serian looked at him with a bored expression. Without the slightest tremor in her voice, she cut him off in a cold tone, as if regarding an annoying insect.
“I know. So?”
“Pardon? Y-You know that and still—!”
The finance officer was flustered, but Serian’s expression remained unchanged. Resting her chin on her hand, she spoke quietly enough for everyone in the room to hear.
“Are you saying that Moonstone is more expensive than a soldier’s life, Finance Officer?”
It was just one sentence. There was no passionate oration, no emotional outcry. It was merely a dry question, as if asking, “Can’t you even calculate something so obvious?”
Of course, Serian had only been spouting nonsense to inflate the budget and ruin the project. But—the conference room froze instantly. The finance officer’s face turned deathly pale. Answering “yes” to that question would brand him as a heartless bureaucrat who valued money over soldiers’ lives. He could say nothing. The other officers held their breath. When it came to budgets, that finance officer’s authority rivaled that of a general. Such arrogant speech and icy gaze toward a superior was clearly insubordination, no matter how much of a “genius” she was called.
…What could drive that child to go this far?
In that moment, the officers interpreted Serian’s arrogant attitude in an entirely different light. She was sternly rebuking the heartless bureaucracy that compared soldiers’ lives to money. Though she appeared cold on the surface, she regarded each soldier not as a mere strategic asset, but as a living being. In this place, she was not merely a development officer. On her shoulders rested the weight of each soldier’s life, and she was fighting another battle here.
After a suffocating silence, the finance officer finally spoke in a trembling voice.
“…I will approve it.”
Huh?
Serian’s mind went blank. She had been certain she would be rejected. She had planned to stubbornly insist no matter what, even if it meant provoking the finance officer into reporting her to the disciplinary committee—another way to escape this tiresome project. That was why she had deliberately spoken with such arrogance and contemptuous eyes. But this… they were approving it so easily?
In the end, the subtle blue glow of Moonstone became the battalion’s symbolic color. Soldiers built camaraderie by confirming each other’s positions in the dark, and they began proudly referring to themselves as the ones clad in blue armor. General Clausewitz, upon seeing this, officially named the unit the Night Ghosts.
Crunch.
The sound of the last cookie breaking echoed loudly in the heavy silence of the conference room. Some officials found Serian’s irreverent attitude displeasing, but many others thought, That bold composure, even at such a critical moment… As expected, she can afford such leisure because all her plans are perfect.
Of course, Serian remained completely oblivious to their awestruck gazes. She merely stared at the empty plate.
Ah, it’s all gone.
Nothing remained—just like all the plans she had poured into over the past three months, now vanished without a trace. The production delay operation, the budget explosion operation… Every scheme she had devised for escape had failed perfectly. Those desperate efforts had only pushed her deeper into the quagmire. The equipment praised as masterpieces, the glorious unit name “Night Ghosts,” even the misunderstanding that she was a true commander who valued soldiers’ lives. The more desperately she tried to retreat, the more she was pushed to the center of the stage. Only she knew that the dazzling stage everyone was cheering for was actually the edge of a cliff.
Really… why does it always turn out like this…
A sigh escaped her lips. Now, she sincerely, truly wished for only one thing.
Please, let the operation fail so I can quietly get fired…
The eve of the operation, at the Night Ghosts battalion barracks. The soldiers were checking their aerial mobility devices—their second selves—with tense expressions. Among them, Serian was personally inspecting each soldier’s equipment. Of course, while she outwardly appeared to be a thorough and responsible officer, inwardly she was desperately searching for any defect that could be used as an excuse to cancel the operation.
If the gas ejection pressure is slightly unstable, or if there’s a crack in the wire anchor… Please, let something be wrong!
But contrary to her hopes, the soldiers’ equipment was flawless, filled with the artisans’ meticulous care. Kaizen, the unit commander, watched her with a throat-tightening sense of emotion. He already knew. She had refused to tolerate even a single defective unit, mobilizing the Empire’s finest artisans to handcraft every piece. She had confronted the finance officer without hesitation when he tried to weigh soldiers’ lives against money. This seemingly cold commander had, in truth, cared for her soldiers more than anyone.
To come all the way to this humble barracks… and personally check on every last one of us…
With a swelling heart, Kaizen stepped forward before her.
“…?”
“Development Officer! Please believe in us!”
“Yes…?”
“With the wings you have given us, we will surely bring victory!”
All the soldiers in the barracks stopped their maintenance at once and stood, saluting Serian in unison.
“For the Empire! For Development Officer Elhardt!”
A thunderous roar filled the barracks.
No, don’t cheer for me… Just survive and run away, please…!
Just then, a familiar voice came from the barracks entrance.
“As expected, my judgment was not wrong.”
It was General Clausewitz. He had been quietly watching the scene inside the barracks for some time. Smiling contentedly as he observed the soldiers’ salute and Serian standing at their center, he slowly approached her and whispered in a voice meant only for her ears.
“…Development Officer Elhardt. You will have to accompany us to the field as well.”
Serian’s thoughts came to a complete halt. She could not comprehend what she had just heard.
“…What?”