Return, and Subtle Changes
Evening sunset dyed the sky a particularly vivid red, like blood. Bram's special forces helicopter, carrying Bell, landed back at the Lumen Guard heliport, its propeller noise gradually fading.
Soon the rotors stopped, and the helicopter door opened. The worried gazes of the military officials quickly turned to frowns. No sooner had a few special forces members disembarked than the first body bag was carefully carried out.
Then one, two, three... nineteen, twenty. Black body bags were quietly unloaded in great numbers. Inside the frigid bags lay Ri Siarin and regular army soldiers. Brigadier General Jack intuited that Siarin was dead too. No one gathered there could utter a word. Only a dark, heavy silence hung over them.
Bram, seeing Bell with her head bowed and clutching her sniper rifle, decided to carry Siarin's body bag himself. Like Bell, this proxy must have been a great help and pillar to someone. In his heart, he offered condolences and respect. When he lifted the feather-light bag with both hands, Bram was startled by its weight—or lack thereof—and glanced indifferently at it, only to freeze.
A wrist visible through a small gap. Something that should have been there was missing.
"...No command terminal."
Bram muttered softly, his own voice surprised.
Major Smith narrowed his eyes and spoke in a gravely serious tone. Having handed Siarin's body bag to the Intelligence Analysis Department, Bram was reporting directly to Major Smith, who had been waiting at the heliport.
"Are you certain?"
"Yes."
Bram answered firmly.
"Command wrist terminals are standard issue for proxies and officers of lieutenant rank and above. It was cleanly removed."
Smith's brow furrowed deeply.
"Ha— fuck."
A brief silence followed. Then,
"...I saw the on-site photos you sent. Keep reporting."
Smith said in a low, firm voice. Bram nodded and continued calmly.
"There were many strange things at the scene."
"Like what?"
"First, the signs of engagement were artificial."
Bram spoke slowly, as if recalling the scene.
"Some building collapse points and the distribution of bullet marks looked less like actual combat and more like a staged firefight."
Smith stared at Bram impassively. He thought the same. Too suspicious.
"The Dists' movements were off too."
"What, like they were fighting like desperate humans or something?"
Bram swallowed briefly.
"...Yes. Like trained troops. Different from a typical Dist swarm. As if someone had unleashed them."
"What?"
Smith's expression darkened.
"Proxy's primary cause of death?"
Bram didn't hesitate.
"Close-range gunshot wounds."
"Confirmed?"
"Yes. The bullet cluster was tightly grouped. Too precise for panic fire. And..."
"What."
Bram paused thoughtfully before answering.
"For someone shot at close range... their expression looked too serene."
Smith rubbed his jaw briefly. A heavy rage pressed at the bottom of his heart.
"Something's off. The Dists' movements too."
He said lowly but clearly. Bram pressed his lips tight.
"...We need analysis on the intent behind attacking the barrier's proxies and regular army."
Smith looked down at Bram. Smith was convinced, and wordlessly turned to Brigadier General Jack. Jack read his eyes and nodded. A signal to follow.
Smith straightened his back and followed Jack. At that moment, Bram muttered lowly.
"Major. The barrier city's management bureau—no, this country—is a hastily assembled military. Keep that in mind."
Smith halted. Bram's words implied much. After a short silence, his dark brown eyes spoke calmly.
"...Yeah, a heaven for idiots."
A short but weighty reply. Smith resumed walking.
Even after Brigadier General Jack left, Major Sophie Marso stood by the helicopter for a long while. Waiting for the girl who still hadn't emerged. Bell.
Moments later, she spotted silver-white hair and Bell stumbling out, sniper rifle dangling limply from one hand. Her eyesight had fully recovered after pushing her limits, but Bell wasn't in the mood to feel grateful for it.
Sophie hurried over. Bell might push her away again, but after all those body bags and no sign of Bell, Sophie had tasted despair for the first time in ages, convinced it couldn't be. Bell just slowly looked up at the approaching Sophie. Then, not with contempt but something like guilt, she bowed her head. Her hands were stained with blood. Red blood caked the sniper rifle grip too.
Sophie instinctively checked Bell's body.
"Captain, no injuries... right?"
Her voice was soft and cautious. Expecting no reply, she still unconsciously assessed Bell's condition. Knowing how Bell had bottled up resentment toward her and Jack, spilling frustration and sorrow over long months—then sealed her lips shut.
But defying expectations, Bell said quietly,
"...No injuries."
Bell had used formal speech with Bram for the first time in ages. But with Sophie, she spoke casually. The recent events and Adolf's words had compounded, yet with Sophie, she couldn't bring herself to formality. Sophie was an adult in a different sense to Bell. Using honorifics felt like it would distance her. To Sophie, as before, without pretense—intimate. Bell thought. She knew it was she who clung to the past she'd wanted to escape. Building thorny defenses like barbed wire. Adding one more regret. She didn't even know how to act now.
Sophie just silently took her warm hand, heedless of the blood staining her uniform sleeve. Bell stayed still, not pulling away, so Sophie decided to treat her casually again after so long.
"Still, let's go to the military clinic."
Sophie suggested, and Bell hesitated at first but soon nodded. Despite acting that way for so long. Even now. Bell finally felt bone-deep that someone still worried about her this much.
Following Sophie, Bell headed to the medical facility through the management bureau. Stopping midway at a restroom to wash her bloody hands. When Bell entered holding her bloodied hands, a bureau clerk startled back but relaxed seeing Sophie follow.
As Bell scrubbed the blood from her hands, her mind felt blankly empty. True to barrier city style, the medical facility combined military hospital and civilian care. Bell hadn't been injured much lately, so it felt newly improved—clean, orderly, almost like pre-barrier hospitals. The scent of medicine, the slight bustle. Bell was seized by a strange emotion.
...Like going to the hospital holding Mom's hand.
The thought brought Siarin's death and pent-up emotions surging up.
"Ngh."
Tears threatened. Bell hurriedly turned her head, roughly wiping her eyes with her hand. Acting nonchalant. Wipe wipe—
Sophie glanced at her but said nothing. Just quietly preserving the little girl's dignity. Bell's petite frame, smaller than her peers. As if time had frozen since then. Yet Sophie didn't want to treat her like a child. She wanted to respect her.
"I'm going."
After the checkup—which found nothing major, just severe eye redness earning eyedrops—Bell tried returning to the military bureau. But Sophie, sensing Bell needed someone today, asked carefully,
"Bell, want to come to my place tonight?"
Bell replied flatly.
"...You have a... house?"
Sophie laughed at the absurd question.
"Of course. I've been working forever. I even told you about the housewarming a year ago when I bought it."
Bell bowed her head wordlessly. Pathetic that she didn't remember even that.
"...I'll go to the major's house."
A low, small voice. But it was Bell's rare, tentative reach-out.
Sophie smiled warmly.
"Yeah, let's go."
Sophie's home was a small detached house in the military officers' quarters under bureau jurisdiction in Lumen Guard. As Brigadier General Jack's adjutant and strategic oversight officer, Sophie received due accommodations. Amid the barrier city's signature gray buildings, her home alone faintly held human warmth, infused with her personality.
Bell quietly followed Sophie over the threshold. Unfamiliar home scent. Clean yet somewhat cluttered. Tea boxes and pistol ammo crates piled in the entryway corner. Only then did Bell think, Yeah, this is Sophie's house.
"...Ammo in the entryway is weird."
Bell muttered indifferently. Yet oddly, her heart eased a bit.
Sophie shrugged at Bell's words.
"Filling up before heading out puts my mind at ease. I'd have tidied if I knew guests were coming. Shame."
Bell exhaled softly. Her chest tingled faintly.
Sophie guided Bell to the living room sofa.
"Sit? I'll get something to drink."
"No tea."
"Hm..."
Sophie pondered, then said,
"How about fresh-pressed juice from science tech division-grown fruit?"
"Why's it sound so sketchy..."
Bell muttered lowly, glancing at Sophie's face before adding,
"Fine, that."
As Sophie happily headed to the kitchen, quiet air filled the living room again. Bell blankly surveyed the unfamiliar space. Thin curtains on the window, neatly shelved tactical books. A raw, unassembled lamp stand in the corner. Sophie was human too. Obvious, yet Bell felt it anew. She too struggled to live in this harsh world. Sophie must have worries and confusions like Bell. But what had Bell done? Just whined and blamed others like a brat.
Bell curled up on the sofa, legs drawn.
Siarin.
Emotions pushed to the cliff's edge quietly returned. Hadn't she hurt her just to preempt her own pain? Bell felt bitter.
"Bell."
Sophie returned with a glass of deeply orange juice, calling softly. Bell looked up. Taking the offered juice, cool chill tickled her fingertips. Fearing it'd remind her of Siarin, Bell downed it in one go.
"Oh, you drink well."
Sophie smiled faintly. Tastier than expected. Thicker than orange, almost syrupy—artificial but good.
"...Can I shower?"
Low and cautious. First time at someone's house, and this was her opener. Bell felt ridiculous.
"Sure. I'll launder your uniform. Towels in the bathroom."
"Ah, coming inside with uniform on and..."
Bell felt suddenly sorry. Dusty from the site.
"Bell, no need to mind every little thing."
Sophie said, hand on hip, teacher-like. Sophie just smiled. No more words.
After showering, Bell wore Sophie's T-shirt and shorts. Oversized T-shirt, but Bell liked the non-constricting feel. Barely drying, she cautiously entered the living room. Sophie was unloading the spun uniform from the washer. Words seemed needed, but lips wouldn't part. In the end, Bell silently curled at the sofa's edge.
Bell couldn't say thanks or sorry. Cozy feel. This sensation. How long since? Before the thought finished, eyelids drooped heavy. Exhausted. Deep in her heart, weary. Slowly, Bell fell asleep.
Sophie hung the uniform on the rack and walked slowly to the living room, then sat carefully by the sofa seeing Bell's steady breathing. She held her breath, gazing at sleeping Bell. No injuries anywhere? When would sorrow fill those eyes again? Asleep, she was just an adorably growing kid. Sophie gazed pityingly, then pulled out her terminal and quietly typed a message.
Sophie found Brigadier General Jack's actions cute. She stifled a chuckle and accessed the military network on her terminal, officially logging Bell's leave.