Chapter 36
“Mm, yes…”
I answered in a dazed voice. I wasn’t even that good, so I didn’t know how to react when that strict Winter actually complimented me.
“Seeing how quickly you picked up knowledge about monsters before, it seems you’re good at memorizing as well.”
“Ah, yes…”
Well, that was only because I already knew a bit about it from the original story. My conscience pricked me a little.
Whether I felt awkward about his praise or not, Winter seemed genuinely pleased to have met a smart junior.
“At this rate, you might even memorize the entire military code.”
“…Pardon?”
“I haven’t seen a junior act wisely since Ishina. It’s been a while since I’ve had someone worth teaching.”
Oh no.
In the army, they say to just stay average—but here I was, showing off too much in front of Winter.
‘P-professor?’
As I stared at Winter, whose eyes were gleaming like a professor about to drag a student into graduate school, the door to the counseling room burst open with a loud sound.
We were currently in the company headquarters, in a counseling room the company commander used for interviews with soldiers. Since the commander rarely used it, he had gladly lent us the space.
Later I heard that Winter’s reputation as an elite had spread so far that he often helped out with headquarters work, which made the commander favor him. But honestly, I’d rather be seen as a lazy freeloader than someone who earns favor by doing extra work.
Anyway, the person who entered the counseling room was none other than Altair.
‘Nice timing.’
If he hadn’t shown up just then, I might’ve been dragged off by Winter to apply for officer training or fill out a college admission form for after discharge.
Altair gave us his trademark cheerful smile and, in an oddly excited tone, said:
“Oh, good~! Looks like you’re working hard. I’m proud of you, you’ve got spirit!”
I couldn’t help thinking how lucky it was that our base was on a mountain. If it had been below, Altair would’ve been yelling “Passion! Passion! Passion!” every morning and making us climb it for “training.”
“Altair, what brings you here?”
“Aw, do I need a reason to visit? I can’t just check how my junior’s doing?”
Ignoring Winter’s cold response, Altair casually turned to me.
“Ah, Blair and Topio also learned to write from Winter back then. How’s Sarubia doing, Winter?”
“Sarubia has a natural sense for language. You can’t compare her to them.”
So those personality-disaster Class 85 guys also learned writing from Winter? Why do I keep finding weird similarities between them and me lately?
‘No, at least I’m not as messed up as those 85th-class guys…’
I was making a sour face when I caught something strange in Altair’s words.
I had never seen Blair or Topio learning from Winter since I enlisted—which meant they learned before I joined.
But before I enlisted, Winter would’ve been a Private First Class. Did the seniors really allow a PFC to teach the trainees?
“So, Winter, you even taught Blair and Topio back when you were a Private First Class?”
When I asked my question outright, Altair replied reminiscently:
“Yeah. Normally Corporals are supposed to do that, but Winter was just too perfect~ so the seniors made him do it.”
‘In other words, they dumped their chores on him.’
I nodded, having found the truth in his words. So that’s how it was.
And knowing Winter, he probably didn’t even mind. After all, he’s a mad perfectionist and a total rule-obsessed maniac.
Even back when he was a PFC, Winter was always composed. No matter what was happening around him, he’d just do his “duties as a PFC” by the book.
For example, when those personality-trainwreck Class 85 guys were getting punished and made to kneel, Winter calmly swept under their bodies with a broom while cleaning.
When April grabbed a senior corporal by the hair, instead of worrying like the other juniors (“We’re screwed, we’re next”), he silently plucked out another weed.
But once he became a Corporal, Winter completely changed.
He was still a rule-keeper, but now that he was responsible for “junior management,” his strictness evolved into full-blown control freak tendencies.
Even when he’d once encouraged me to use firearms during his PFC days, I bet that controlling side had briefly slipped out.
As proof, ever since he became a Corporal, the juniors had to live with things like—
“Hey, raise your back ten degrees.”
“When doing that exercise, move your right foot forward eight centimeters.”
“There’s dust on the lower-right corner of the fifth window in the hallway.”
And the worst part was—he was always right. The juniors couldn’t even complain; they just had to correct themselves accordingly.
Everyone who served under Winter suffered.
Thinking about how many times he’d corrected me almost brought tears to my eyes.
“Sarubia, let’s stop here for today. We’ll continue tomorrow. Practice your letters a bit more on your own.”
“Yes, but I think I can study by myself from now on—”
“No.”
Winter suddenly looked down at me with an intensely firm expression. Startled, I flinched, but he didn’t care. His voice was cool and decisive.
“This is a rare opportunity. I can’t let it slip.”
“…Pardon?”
When I asked blankly, not understanding, his already-serious face somehow became even more serious.
“You have talent. This is your chance to awaken that potential.”
“…Excuse me?”
I had no idea where this professor-possessed Winter was trying to drag me, but as a low-ranked soldier, I could only nod with watery eyes.
Fine. I might as well think positively about this….
After all, Winter had been trusted to teach Blair and Topio even back when he was just a PFC.
To be allowed to teach others from that early on—truly….
‘I want that kind of power…!’
I’ll make the most of these study sessions, get close to Winter, and climb up his line of influence!
Winter’s the top dog in this unit right now, and until I become a Corporal—and through the entire original story—he’ll stay that way!
“You really were exceptional even as a PFC, weren’t you, Winter? Your seniors must’ve recognized your excellence among all the juniors.”
With eyes blazing with ambition for power, I flattered him shamelessly. Winter gave me a strange look and signaled to Altair.
Altair, also wearing an unreadable expression, glanced at me and left the room. But despite their lukewarm reactions, my burning hunger for power didn’t cool one bit.
“Sarubia.”
“Hm?”
When I returned to the squad, the one who greeted me was Aquila. He glanced at my tired face and asked quietly,
“Not too tired?”
“Oh, from the writing lessons? Nah, not at all.”
Seeing his face made me want to talk more, so I started rambling.
“Honestly, it’s weird to pronounce that alphabet as ‘r’. I want to say ‘f’ instead. And I still can’t get used to the uppercase and lowercase of the letter that sounds like ‘b’. They look swapped!”
As I complained about the Adolb Empire’s alphabet, recalling the English I used to know, Aquila patiently waited for me to finish talking.
“Anyway, that’s how it went today.”
“So learning itself isn’t too hard for you.”
“Yeah, I actually like it.”
Even though there’s no use for writing inside this border defense unit, once I’m discharged, I’ll need to know how to read and write. Having Winter teach me so thoroughly was actually a good thing.
“And Winter teaches really well too.”
At those words, Aquila looked at me quietly with his crimson eyes. And in that moment, I realized I’d said the wrong thing.
“I could teach you just as well.”
‘…Oops.’
I knew what this was about—Aquila’s trauma from the incident where our comrades died. He found comfort in the idea that I needed him—that his fellow soldiers still lived through that bond.
Which meant, whenever I looked like I didn’t need him, he got extremely sensitive.
A compliment slipped from my mouth automatically.
“Of course! You know me way better than Winter ever could, right?”
“That’s true.”
“I like you way more than Winter too. But right now, it’s just… you know, orders. I’m only doing it because I was told to. The person I actually rely on is you.”
Thankfully, Aquila’s expression began to soften a little. His eyes looked the same as before, but I could tell he felt better now.
‘Once you get close to him, reading his expressions becomes super easy.’
I really don’t know why I used to think he was so expressionless. If you look closely, his eyes change ever so slightly.
“Winter doesn’t make you uncomfortable, does he?” Aquila asked again quietly. He seemed worried that Winter might be using “teaching” as an excuse to harass me.
“No. He’s just really skilled at managing juniors—before I know it, I understand everything he’s explaining.”
Although it does feel like he’s trying to drag me into the academic world…. I swallowed the rest of my words and continued.
“Anyway, he’s really the elite, model type. Not just in one area—he’s exemplary in everything. Even his face.”
“…What’s exemplary about his face?”
“His… face?”
“Hah…”
Aquila let out a deep sigh, his gaze turning fierce again.
‘What? What did I say wrong this time?’
