Chapter 15
Chapter 15
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: It's Not a Self-Deprecating Broadcast
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A cold wind blew, carrying the faint scent of gunpowder to the tip of my nose.
The chilly earth beneath me sent a chill creeping up my spine.
I jolted awake at the all-too-familiar sensation.
Just moments ago, I'd been lying in bed, but now, coming to my senses, I found myself right in the middle of a battlefield.
'A dream...?'
How desperately did I want to escape to be dreaming of returning to reality?
Even the dream hadn't been all that happy, but waking up left a bitter aftertaste I couldn't hide.
Regret tugged at me as my memories faded, but I pushed myself up anyway.
Against the endless expanse of the Kursk plain, countless soldiers were diligently digging trenches.
"Victoria! You're up already? You could've slept more."
"Ah... I'm fine. A weird dream woke me up."
That's when someone called out to me in a bright, cheerful voice.
Turning toward the sound, I saw a familiar golden-haired face.
My steadfast comrade who was always by my side, no matter where or when—Irina Morozova.
Just seeing her reassuring figure brought a warm smile to my lips.
"A dream? What kind?"
"Hmm... I forgot..."
"Oh well. Mind coming with me for a sec? There's something I need to show you, Victoria."
"Sure. Lead the way."
I started walking across the Kursk plain with her.
Before long, the ruins of a village came into view. Whatever she wanted to show me was inside.
The village reeked of rotting corpses.
When I wrinkled my nose and asked why she'd brought me here, she pointed to a tree in the center and answered.
"Tell me how to handle that. It's something the Nazi bastards left behind."
I naturally followed her gesture and turned my head.
Then revulsion rose in my throat, twisting my face.
A black cat hung from the tree by its neck, dead.
Worse, a sign tied to its tail read "Chernakoshka."
It was a vile, petty trick if I'd ever seen one.
For some reason, it felt eerily familiar, but my foggy memory refused to yield details.
"Looks like they're dead set on crushing our morale. Every village has cats killed like this."
"Yeah... Not good."
"Ah! But don't worry too much. You think that'll break the Red Army's spirit? It'll just piss them off that they messed with you, Victoria."
"No. I wasn't worried about the army's morale."
"Huh? Then what's so bad about it?"
"Just... it puts me in a bad mood. Proof the Germans see me as a thorn in their side. Makes me not want to imagine what they'd do if they captured me alive."
A shiver ran down my spine, and I trembled.
Irina, watching me, grinned mischievously.
"Pfft! They'd just fuck you till you drop dead, that's all."
"......"
"Ah, no! But it's true! What, you got no holes? Why do you think we carry suicide grenades!"
"Enough. That's insulting an officer—your vodka's confiscated for a week."
"Eek! S-sorry!"
I'd played along only to get sexually harassed, so I confiscated Irina's vodka.
Leaving her to pout and plead, I examined the cat hanging from the tree.
No booby traps in sight, but for some reason, I couldn't look away.
It felt like I'd been through this exact scene multiple times before.
"Still, good call reporting it before touching anything. No traps visible, so we'll leave it be. Too busy prepping for battle."
"Hehe. Can I trade that praise for vodka?"
"Sigh... Fine. But drink in moderation."
"Yay! I'll have just a little!"
I pushed away Irina, who was rubbing her cheek against mine, and headed back toward the trenches.
Truth be told, her harassment was cute enough that I never planned to actually confiscate her vodka.
As we crossed the vast field, the ground began to rumble somewhere in the distance.
I instinctively crouched and looked back to see countless tanks approaching amid clouds of dust.
Thankfully, not a German armored unit.
They were the somewhat unreliable yet sturdy T-34s of our Red armored forces.
"Hey, Victoria. Who do you think wins this time?"
"You never get tired of asking?"
"I'm nervous too! Your predictions are always spot on!"
Watching the tanks, Irina beamed and asked.
Even on the battlefield, she never lost her cheerfulness—probably seeing hope in our ally's armor.
But as someone who knew history, I couldn't share her feelings.
Hiding my fear, I lowered my gaze and murmured.
"We'll win."
I didn't even need to recall the facts to be sure.
The Battle of Kursk was one of World War II's most infamous slaughters, and the Soviet strategy boiled down to "keep feeding in troops until we win."
Still, I couldn't exactly say, "Over 800,000 casualties in this battle alone."
As the symbol of victory paraded out front, I had to be extra careful not to dent morale.
That said, Irina and I had been through so much together—maybe I could hint at it.
Deciding to share the tactical forecast flashing in my mind, I spoke up.
"Our unit takes devastating losses, but we win the Battle of Kursk anyway."
"Huh? Our unit?"
"Yeah. German new-model tanks swarm this position. We hold the line as ordered and most of us die."
"Uh... Victoria... what are you even saying?"
"Hm?"
Irina stared at me in confusion.
Replaying my words, I finally realized how weird they sounded, snapping awake.
The nagging déjà vu shattered, and forgotten memories surfaced one by one.
It felt so surreal, like this couldn't possibly be a dream.
"This battle for sure..."
Our unit had suffered near-total annihilation at Kursk.
Yet here the unit stood intact, and the battle hadn't even started.
Most unbelievable of all: Irina, my precious comrade who'd died protecting me, stood alive and well.
"Irina dies... in this battle... protecting me..."
The fog in my mind cleared, and I realized this was a dream.
At the same time, self-loathing crashed over me for forgetting her death.
I looked up at her with trembling eyes.
Uncomprehending, she just gave an awkward smile.
Seeing that, my heart sank.
Tears welled from the deep scar of guilt toward Irina etched in my chest.
“Yo-you're going to die. Irina dies in this battle.”
“H-huh?”
“If we keep going like this, you'll die. Irina, please don't go. Run away somewhere, fast. You'll die protecting me.”
“V-Victoria?”
I clutched her uniform, pleading through sobs.
The thought of losing her again in this dream—even after she'd died saving me—terrified me.
“W-we have to run. German tanks are coming soon. Our unit can't handle them, but command will issue impossible orders.”
“C-calm down... Victoria...”
“You die because of me! Following orders to save me! You'll get shot protecting the symbol of victory!”
“......”
In a dream, I didn't need to be the symbol of victory. No need to worry about morale.
I could whine, show my fear, confess my heart.
But time was too short to unload everything.
Emotions surging, the dream world began crumbling as I neared wakefulness.
“S-sorry... I'm so sorry...”
Panic garbled my words.
Only the buried guilt poured out.
“Sorry... It was my fault...”
I wanted to apologize for giving false courage.
Confess I wasn't some symbol of victory—just a coward.
Apologize for crushing her chance to flee.
For her to harshly judge and punish the me who'd irresponsibly promised victory.
Above all, apologize for surviving alone.
Beg forgiveness from those who'd trusted me and staked their lives.
And finally,
“Th-thank... you...”
Thank the Irina before me, who'd sacrificed everything for me to the end.
“I'll never forget you... so please, even in a dream, stay alive... You don't need to die twice for someone like me...”
“Victoria...”
I bit my lip hard, but felt no pain.
Even hugging with all my strength, her warmth didn't reach me.
I lifted my head to etch her face into my eyes.
Vision blurring as wakefulness loomed, I wanted to hold onto her final image.
“It's okay. We'll both be fine.”
Irina smiled brighter than ever.
That smile I'd longed for finally felt like absolution.
But this was just a fleeting dream.
One where tears close your eyes, and opening them returns you to reality.
“Ah.”
A cruel, sorrowful dream, nothing more.
“......”
Awake, but powerless to act.
I couldn't even grasp what I could do.
I just wanted to escape reality.
Turn away from this damned world—even if it meant dying right here.
I shook my head, recalling Irina's last words.
We'd both be fine? I couldn't agree.
“I'm... not okay... Irina...”
I wanted to return to the game, see her again.
Meet once more and properly beg forgiveness.
Clutching my chest against suffocating dread, only the black-lidded coffin watched over me.
