Chapter 24
#3. If the Crown Prince Shows Up But the Genre Is Military Fiction, There’ll Be Trouble
I always think this, but April is honestly insane.
“Hey guys… unbelievable, but I just found a fruit fly in the barracks.”
April said it in a tone that sounded unbearably distressed.
“Isn’t that because you all keep the barracks filthy…? How could a fruit fly be here?”
‘Damn it, I sweep and clean every day — what am I supposed to do about one fruit fly coming in from outside?’
But I couldn’t show what I was thinking, so I just broke out in a cold sweat and pretended to listen attentively to April. Yuri, standing beside me, looked like she was used to this.
“Now that I know there’s one fruit fly here, the place feels so filthy I can’t bear to stay…”
“Sorry.”
“We’ll fix it.”
As Yuri and I answered immediately, April lifted one corner of her mouth and said:
“See? You feel like this place needs to be cleaned more thoroughly, don’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. Then start cleaning now until not a single speck of dust remains.”
‘Damn it!’
Finding a single fruit fly was enough for her to make us clean every corner of the barracks meticulously; she’d run her finger across a surface and if even one speck of dust came off she’d order us to clean again. That sensitivity was just her baseline.
“Hey, did any of you just hear an animal sound outside?”
“No, I didn’t hear anything.”
“Hmm, I definitely heard something… it sounds like an animal must have gotten into the unit.”
“I didn’t hear anything…”
“So are you saying your senior is lying right now?”
“N—no!”
“Then is this inside or outside?”
“Ah, no… no… everything you say is correct!”
She liked to pick at people and make wordplay when she was bored, and because she claimed she’d heard an animal she’d make the whole squad patrol until they actually found one.
By the way, they searched so long that day without finding anything that they grabbed a bird — and because they brought in a filthy bird, we had to clean the barracks all over again.
And that wasn’t the end of it…
“Louise, the recruits who fell behind during training — we should give them separate duties, right?”
“Yes, that seems appropriate.”
“Hmm, how about making them pick wild raspberries up on the mountain?”
“…What?”
“Did you guys hear that? Recruits who fell behind during training will go to the mountain to gather raspberries.”
“Um… raspberries don’t grow in easy-to-find spots…”
“If you can’t find them, make them.”
That day, the recruits who’d fallen behind had to scour the mountain, push through thorny bushes, and pick raspberries.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I— that’s not true!”
“Then what I saw was a mirage? Oh, maybe I’m poisoned by a monster and hallucinating?”
“April, I’ll handle the kids’ training.”
“Fine. Anyway, move that rock over there — go.”
“W-what, how are we supposed to move that rock…?”
“Go!”
April once ordered trainee Blair to move a huge boulder up a hill just because Blair’s look annoyed her. And the boulder slid back down the hill after being put at the top, so I got to watch the myth of Sisyphus play out right in front of me…
In short: she was really insane.
“Yeah, no matter how you think about it, that human is crazy.”
I was replaying all of this in my head because today, after falling behind during a company joint training, April punished me by making me search for thread in a sandpit.
Remarkably, she worried that I might prick my finger on a needle, so instead of a needle she hid threads for me to find. Such thoughtful consideration.
“How is she even that creative…?”
Do you know which job in the world fits creativity the least? Soldiers.
But April was overflowing with creativity utterly useless to soldiers, and she had enough seniority to unleash it on her juniors.
‘I want to desert…’
…But sometimes I felt a strange chill from April.
Like the time she made us throw metal marbles among pebbles and find them — and then asked if she was being an idiot — or the time she said, “If you keep playing the angel, you’ll be the first to die.” In her pale green eyes I saw a calm, cold, refined madness.
‘…No, don’t think about it.’
I shook my head to erase the thought of her. Yeah, it was about time for my nap — I should just close my eyes and sleep.
By the way, I was really glad she was leaving this unit soon. Finally, one crazy person was going away.
The Border Defense Command had a peculiar rank system different from other branches.
For one, what others call a “Private” we call a “Trainee.” The odd system where each rank lasts two years was another quirk.
Most importantly, we didn’t have a sergeant major. After finishing Senior Private, you’re promoted to “Commanding Officer,” which is a unique rank only in the Border Defense. Commanding Officers were not treated as enlisted ranks but rather as non-commissioned officers in other branches. So the Border Defense had no NCOs; that role was filled by Commanding Officers.
So when we met soldiers from other branches, our strange rank system created an atmosphere of mutual respect. Our Senior Private and their Senior Private were not the same.
Anyway, April was about to be promoted to Commanding Officer, which meant she would be transferred to another unit.
When being promoted from Senior Private to Commanding Officer, you do a short month-long training at Education Headquarters and then get randomly assigned to a new unit. Our unit’s Commanding Officers, Elliot and Chris, had come from other units that way.
Commanding Officers still participated in monster hunts, guard duty, and administrative work, but they didn’t take part in regular training. They mostly gave work to trainees while lounging around.
‘I’m so jealous.’
How long would it take me to be promoted like April?
‘…At least five years?’
I stopped thinking. Yeah, I’d just let time pass…
At that moment April opened the barracks door and came in. She glanced at me about to nap and asked lightly:
“What are you doing? Not asleep yet?”
“Ah…”
I was torn between staying lying down and answering or sitting up, but when I realized who was standing in front of me, I shot to my feet. I was too sleepy to think straight — could have died right there.
“I was just about to sleep!”
“Is that so? Well, sleep well then.”
April waved her hand at me lazily, went to her locker, and started rummaging through it. She hummed a little tune as if she was in a good mood. Probably because of the promotion coming up.
It felt like I should say congratulations, so I forced a schmoozy smile and said:
“Congratulations on your promotion, April.”
She turned and looked at me.
“Haha!”
She laughed, looking pleased.
“You happy I’m leaving this unit?”
“N-no, that’s not it…! I was sincerely congratulating you because you’re being promoted…!”
“Alright then. Let’s go with that.”
She laughed like she enjoyed teasing me, then closed the locker and said:
“How much longer until you get promoted to Commanding Officer?”
“…Five years and three months.”
“Oh, that’s such a shame~.”
‘That crazy…’
How could she toy with someone’s discharge like that?
While I simmered, trying to control my anger, she kept smiling and said:
“All right, Sarubia. But next month more recruits will come in, so be happy with that.”
‘Are you joking?’
How could getting a few more juniors be anything like getting promoted? They might live or die, even!
April had a knack for burning people up inside.
“Haha, they might live or die anyway — what are you talking about?”
When I said that, April looked at me steadily and tilted her head. The smile was gone from her face now, and I stiffened with tension.
“Why? Didn’t you used to want to help your juniors survive?”
Her voice sounded like she was testing me.
That cut deeply. I felt worse because I had cared for Reina, and when she died I felt especially guilty.
“…Back then I didn’t know anything.”
“Now you do?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
April lifted the corner of her mouth and spoke in a soft tone as if revealing a secret:
“All right, Sarubia… then answer this question for me.”
‘If I don’t answer, am I going to die?’
I felt like I’d brought this disaster on myself by opening my mouth to her.
“Do you remember what I told you before? When you were caring for Reina?”
…I remembered. It had stuck with me.
“You said the more you do angelic things, the more likely you are to die.”
“Hmm, you remember.”
April smiled refreshingly and asked again:
“Then why do you think I said that?”
“…I thought it meant that if you keep looking after a junior and that junior dies, you’ll be mentally crushed, so it’s better to be indifferent.”
“Hmm, that’s half right.”
She waved a finger like I was wrong and then lowered her voice, as if about to share a secret.
“Sarubia, listen.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t seem to understand — when we hunt monsters it’s not only the monsters that are scary…”
‘…Is she telling me to watch the terrain on the mountain?’
I supposed she meant that, since I’d almost died at a waterfall before.
But April’s explanation went a different direction:
“If you seem weak here, people will use you right away.”
“…What?”
“There are people who, at a moment of crisis, won’t protect their comrades — they’ll instinctively shove them into danger to save themselves.”
‘What…’
“It’s not that they do it out of malice necessarily. But if a monster attacks someone, there are always those who will instinctively hide behind someone else.”
When I looked at April’s face at that moment I straightened reflexively.
As she continued, the look in her eyes was colder than usual.
“Sarubia, you’re the type who follows seniors who treat you well — someone like Ishina — but…”
April was usually manic, smiling, but as she spoke she seemed to lose control of her emotions a little, letting her madness show through.
Her madness felt like something that had been tightly wound up for years and was now trembling and starting to burst out of the box.
“There are people who, if you treat them kindly, will instinctively try to use you.”
At last I understood what she’d meant by “the more angelic you are, the more likely you are to die.”
She’d meant it literally.
If you look meek and easy prey, you can die.
“I’ve seen someone die like that.”
While I was still bewildered, April kept talking.
“There was definitely someone who died that way. And Sarubia, you are…”
The cold, sharp aura circling her vanished as suddenly as it had come.
For the first time, I thought I saw something like sorrow in her eyes.
“Don’t ever be overly kind.”
