3

The day after finishing the tour of the base. We’d been bustling around since morning, getting ready to leave.

“Gonna borrow the washroom.”

“Alright.”

“Got it.”

“Wait a sec! Let me go first!”

“No way, it’ll stink up the place.”

“Huh!?!”

The door slammed shut right in front of Batis, the sharp click of the lock echoing through the room. Leon and I crouched, stifling laughter at the sight of Batis doubled over, and picked out our travel clothes.

Truth be told, we didn’t have much to choose from—just a shirt under our uniforms, really. Nothing worth fussing over.

Just pulled something out of the bag, threw it on, and made do with whatever looked least ridiculous.

“Guess this’ll do.”

White short-sleeve shirt over my uniform pants.

Leon’s got that noble look—dark blue pants, a hoodie over his T-shirt, like he’s always ready for a parade.

Batis… can’t even move. Poor bastard.

Anyway, why’re we changing into street clothes this early? Simple.

It’s one of those rare days off we get just seven times a year.

More like a field trip free period, really. Got our pass to shuttle between base and town—spend the whole day wandering through Jakarta.

“Sorry I’m late.”

“Ooh!”

Just as we’re messing around like that, Rayla finishes changing and steps out from the washroom.

We all kinda yelp.

“What… is that?”

“Huh. Forgot Rayla’s a girl, didn’t we?”

“Want me to cut you?”

“Not on your life.”

Rayla was wearing a black A-line dress that came down to about her knees. She had a straw hat on for sun protection, a white scarf draped over her shoulders, and a metal ring around her waist like a belt. Her bare white arms, exposed from the shoulder, were wrapped with colorful friendship bracelets at the wrists.

Her legs—slim and toned from daily training—were proudly bare, and she wore simple sandal-style shoes with thin heels, tied with ribbons.

Honestly, I didn’t expect her outfit to change her so much.

“I can be stylish too, you know. I just never get the chance to show it off. Anyway, Eld, you should pay a bit more attention to your clothes. You’re practically wearing a uniform.”

Well, I suppose my own outfit isn’t much more than a school uniform shirt thrown off. In fact, that’s pretty much what it is.

But still—

"Admitted on recommendation, sure—but I don’t even have time to work a part-time job to keep it up. And anyway, there’s no way my family’s sending money. So what’s a person supposed to do when they can’t earn a single coin? Honestly, I’m more curious how *you* manage to afford all that fancy stuff, Rayla!"

Yeah, right. I don’t have a single free moment to work, and yet *you* still have money for clothes and all that? You don’t get sent anything either, do you?

"I work at a diner starting in the evening, remember? While Eld’s out training with his sword."

"Seriously? Then how the hell are you even keeping that blade in shape!?"

I can’t even remember the basics if I don’t practice for a day. Every time I forget, I end up getting cut by Rene, that’s how it goes!

"I do a little form practice in the mornings, that’s all. The rest is during class, or between classes. I’m already done studying. Just attending school’s enough. I’ve got time for that."

“That ease of yours is downright annoying…”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t go spouting nonsense. Time’s up, you know?”

By the time we finished talking, the gathering time was closing in.

We rushed to finish our prep and headed straight for the front desk—the designated meeting spot. There, the instructors, the second-in-command, and the members of the second group were already waiting.

We scrambled over to the instructors’ side and snapped into formation.

‘We’re sorry we’re late!’

“Good, everyone’s here. Today’s schedule remains unchanged—free activity for the whole day. Most of you’ll probably head into town, so just keep your heads down and don’t cause any trouble.”

‘Yes!’

“Now, I’ll hand out the gate access passes. These are good for the entire day, so don’t lose them. If you do, report it to the gate staff right away. Could be dangerous if someone else uses it.”

The assistant says that, and hands out the cards we were told about. Each one’s got our personal details and student numbers written on it. In my old world, there’d be a photo stuck on there, but this place doesn’t have photo tech, so no picture. Feels more like an insurance card, really.

We each tuck ours away—some in pockets, some in wallets, others in little name-tag holders with lanyards, whichever spot we figure’s safe here.

I put mine in my wallet. Back in my old life, I always kept valuables in my wallet—just habit. Feels more natural that way. Sure, there’s risk of someone picking it, but that’s on me to watch out. Can’t have a knight-to-be getting picked clean in the town square.

“Now then, each of you—remember, act with proper decorum as academy students. Dismissed!”

The instructors left us with that and headed back inside.

We watched them go, then took off running toward the base gate, eager as ever.

Guess we’re still students, huh? Free time’s always the best part!

Crossing the gate, the town hit us all at once—alive in a way the base could never be.

Inside the base, everything was neat and orderly, every corner purpose-built. But out here, houses tangled together like a maze, narrow alleys winding every which way. Stalls lined the streets, people flowing past nonstop, laughing, haggling, bustling.

No need to widen the roads for Armunale like in Fortran—just narrow enough for a cart to squeeze through.

“Feels different, doesn’t it?”

“Not like Fortran at all. Just the buildings, and the whole mood’s changed.”

“Any cute ones around?”

“Now then—where to first?”

Got the usual tourist spots checked off, but it’s a free day—so no need to plan anything too tight. Or, really, at all.

Just drifting where the wind blows, following whatever mood takes me, letting the scents around me pull me along as I wander the streets.

Picked up some wooden carving I can’t even tell what it’s supposed to be at a stall, gnawed on some meat the vendor swore was the best in town.

Then, suddenly, found myself in a museum, lost in the silence of statues and paintings, bought a puzzle of a painting as a souvenir.

Batis… you gonna make that ten-thousand-piece puzzle anytime soon?

And so we each just soaked up Jakarta, one silly thing at a time.

Before I knew it, my hands were heavy with souvenir bags, my purse feeling oddly light.

Sunlight dipped lower, the sky growing richer in red.

The crowds shifted—tourists fading, housewives taking over, their baskets full of dinner ingredients.

“Scream!”

Just as I was about to suggest we head toward our final destination, a shriek came from across the street.

“Robbery! Catch him!”

“Step back! I’ll kill you!”

We took it in at a glance—everyone dumped their stuff into Batis’s arms in one motion, freeing our hands. Batis was buried under the load, barely able to see ahead, but it’s fine, really.

From the panic in the crowd, the thief was clearly fleeing straight toward us.

“Got him.”

“Confirmed. Knife in hand?”

“I’ll handle the blade. You take him down.”

“Got it.”

No point saying it’s dangerous now. For one, Layra’s the strongest up close, and second, none of us are the kind to lose to a petty thief. Not even if we were made of cotton.

It’s no big deal who handles the weapon or who grabs him—just that Layla called dibs first, so we stepped aside.

Layla dropped low as the mugger came sprinting toward her.

“Get out of the way!”

The thief shoved his knife straight at Layla, no mercy in his eyes.

In a flash—

her arm twitched, just for a split second, and then—*ping!*—a high-pitched ring filled the air. The knife blade vanished, spinning through the sky, catching the evening sun.

The mugger froze, dazed. What in the world just happened? In that split second, Layla twisted her body, spun once, and kicked the thief square in the chest with her heel.

*Thud.*

He flew backward, tumbling across the ground.

…Would’ve gone straight through if it’d been a stiletto.

“Is that all? How weak.”

She caught the falling knife’s blade between two fingers, then straightened her rumpled skirt.

The onlookers, still dazed and clueless, just stood there, stunned.

But we know. We saw it—the moment the thief lunged, Rayla pulled a blade from inside her skirt and sliced through his knife… wait, why does she even carry a knife on vacation, anyway…?

While the crowd froze, we stepped toward the fallen assailant and retrieved the woman’s stolen bag.

Leon locked the man’s joints, pinning him so he couldn’t move.

By then, the townsfolk were starting to catch on.

Applause started from somewhere—then spread, rippling through the crowd.

Somehow, there was this weird thing—a whole bunch of clapping going on in one corner of the road. But hey, wasn’t our fault, was it? I mean, did we just break some academy rule about proper behavior or something?

The applause died down after a bit, and then the woman whose bag had been snatched came over to us.

“Ah… th-thank you…”

She bowed hard, practically folding in half. Layla looked genuinely confused by it.

“I just did what anyone would’ve done. Please don’t worry about it. Anyway, are you alright? The thief had a knife, after all.”

“Ah… um… my arm, just a little. But I’m fine. It’s not serious.”

For a split second, she touched her right arm, like she was checking it. We didn’t miss that.

I gave Leon a quick look, and he moved in without a word, circling around to her right side and gently taking her arm.

That was enough—her face twisted.

“Tch…!”

“Cut, huh?”

Leon yanked up her sleeve, and there it was—a single slash. Probably from when he stole the bag. Not deep, but left alone, it could fester. Best to treat it proper, no question.

“Let’s head to the clinic. The thief’ll pay the bill, no sweat. We’ll come along, keep an eye on things.”

I hauled up the guy still groaning from the kick, made him stand, then shoved him down on his knees in front of the woman.

“But… I’m fine. Just getting my bag back is enough.”

“What’re you talking about? You’re cut! Gotta get it fixed, or you’ll be scarred for life.”

I guess that part’s bothering her, too. Even a shallow cut—she’s got this thing about scars on her arms. I mean, I wear sleeveless clothes all the time, so I get it. Thinking I might not be able to wear them again? That’s enough to panic.

“Besides, we were headed to the clinic anyway. Perfect timing.”

Yeah—that was the last place we were planning to go. A clinic, of course.

Why the clinic? Because the day before we left Fortran, my mentor, Rene, handed me a letter.

“If you’re going to Jakarta, stop by the clinic. Show them this letter—they’ll show you everything you need to see.”

And that letter’s still safely tucked in my chest pocket.

I don’t know what Rene was thinking when she said that—can’t imagine she’d send us on some pointless errand. Didn’t feel like a chore, either. Probably something she wanted us to see, right there.

I could’ve gone alone. But if my guess is right, and I’m not wrong, then anyone training to be a pilot ought to see what’s waiting. So I figured, why not bring the whole lot of us?

“…Understood. Sorry to trouble you.”

“Oh, nonsense. Call it fate, or whatever.”

We handed over the thief to the town guards who’d just arrived, explained we’d settle the woman’s medical bill later, and headed off toward the clinic.

Jakarta’s clinic wasn’t far from the base. Makes sense—base folks use it too.

There’s a clinic at the base too, but patients needing long-term care get sent here. That’s why the treatment hall’s so big—windows line up in rows, like the academy’s schoolhouse.

Leading the woman to the front desk.

“Good day. What brings you in?”

“Brought a woman slashed with a knife. I’ve stopped the bleeding—just first aid, though.”

“Understood. Please go into Room Three. I’ll see you right away.”

“Thank you.”

Layla and the woman step into Room Three. For a flash, the open door reveals a clinic room not so different from the one I knew in my past life. Big place like this, plenty of doctors, so there are ten numbered rooms, just like that.

“Anything else you need?”

The front desk tilts its head at me, still not moving even as Layla walks off.

I pull out the letter from my chest pocket.

A letter from former support maid Rene—she said to hand it over to the headmistress.

"Is it for the headmaster?"

The clerk gave me a look of mild confusion but took my letter and vanished behind the counter. Soon after, another woman opened a different counter and carried on with her work. Nice coordination, that.

After a while, the woman who’d vanished through the door stepped out— an elderly woman with silver-streaked hair, wearing spectacles.

You’re Eld, right?

Yes. You are?

I’m Hyojun, the head of this clinic. I’ve read the letter from Rene. Does Eld know about this?

I don’t know for sure. All I was told was to show them around the compound.

Is that so.

The headmaster closed his eyes, as if thinking something over, then opened them again.

I don’t intend to turn down Rene’s request. But I think it’ll be hard on Eld, don’t you?

I’ve got a hunch about it, so I’m fine. But I’d really like to show you my friends too—think that’d be alright?

You mean the same as you?

Yeah, they’re students in the same flight pilot course at the academy.

How do the kids feel about it? We’re not forcing anyone.

I’ll check with them, but I think they’ll be okay. They’re all pretty tough, those ones.

While talking with the headmaster, Rayla and the others come out of the ward. A woman’s arm’s wrapped in bandages—looks like they’ve taken proper care of it. That should keep any infection from spreading.

She keeps bowing deeply to Rayla, who’s frantically trying to lift her head up. Probably not used to being bowed to.

After watching for a while, the woman turns toward us and gives a proper bow—then leaves the clinic. Looks like it’s settled.

And then Rayla and the others come back to me.

“Got everything settled on your end?”

“Yeah, no problem. We’re gonna get a tour of the clinic, though. What’re you guys doing? The head’s said it’s gonna be a rough one, so—”

“Naturally we’re coming. Can’t let Eld out of our sight again, now can we?”

“I’d like to observe too. This place might end up being useful to us.”

“I’ll come as well. There’s bound to be something important here.”

Everyone agreed. Well, we’ve come this far—nobody here’s gonna bail out at the last minute.

The head nods once, hearing our words, then gestures for us to follow and walks down the dimly lit corridor.

We keep walking, deeper into the shadows, and soon the usual patients vanish from sight. Then, from behind a closed ward door, a low groan drifts out—like someone in pain, trying not to cry out.

A flicker of unease passed through us.

“First, here.”

The head doctor stopped in front of a single ward room.

“Hold your nerve. This is your reality now.”

“Yes.”

I nodded, and the head doctor pushed the door open. Instantly, a thick, sour stench hit my nose.

I wrinkled my face and stepped inside—hell had unfolded in a small room meant for a few patients.

A man writhing on a bed, wrapped head to toe in bandages, groaning through clenched teeth.

A woman with no arms, her bandages soaked through and red as blood.

A child lifting their face to the air, whispering something over and over into the void.

Everyone here had lost something. Something terrible.

“These people….”

War victims. People whose villages were overrun, who fled for their lives, and barely survived. Just wanted to live in peace—then, in a single instant, lost everything. Poor souls.

And then, those nurses tending to them. No spark in their eyes. Just mannequins, moving like machines, doing what they’re told.

I looked at them, and suddenly remembered Rene’s stories from the battlefield.

My stomach twisted, bile rising in my throat. I clenched it down hard, tried to breathe. But each breath brought that stink—sharp, sickening—wrapping around my neck like a noose.

Batis and Leon had fallen silent, too. Knights—those dazzling figures, heroes in the shadow of war—were taught about in class. But seeing one like this with their own eyes… well, how did the two of them feel, really?

The one thing that hadn’t changed was Rayla. Her expressionless eyes stared straight ahead, fixed on them—nothing else mattered.

Let’s go. Not everything’s meant to be stared at forever.

I’m nudged back down the hall by the headmaster.

The smell of disinfectant is sharp—almost comforting, somehow.

You alright? The next thing I show you might be even worse.

The headmaster’s voice came through, tight with worry—like he was holding his breath for us.

We nodded, aware our faces had turned blue—couldn’t run from this place. That’s what it felt like.

Let me see it.

Gotta see it.

"Yeah. Can’t feel like a pilot unless I see it all."

"Understood. Then let’s go."

The head nurse moved ahead again, and we followed. No words passed between us. The moans drifting from somewhere—somewhere unseen—stuck in my ears, sharp and stubborn.

I shoved down the urge to cover my ears and kept walking. Eventually, we reached the end of the corridor.

"This is it. When you’re ready, open the door yourselves. What’s on the other side… might be your future."

That’s when I understood. Who was waiting beyond that door. Soldiers, probably. Injured in war. And judging by how the patients looked just now—no chance of getting better...

I had to see it. I knew that. But my arms just wouldn’t move.

Batis and Leon looked the same. Not giving in, though. Staring at the door like it was some ancient enemy of our parents.

"I’ll open it,"

Silence. Then a voice, soft as dust. And when Rayla stepped forward to the door, she opened it without a second thought.

The sight beyond—so vivid, so raw—it made hell look like a picnic.

Row after row of beds. Blood-soaked bodies. People. More people.

Moaning. Calling out for parents. Begging for help. Pleading to be killed.

Every single one of them a critical case.

Limbs missing? That was the least of it. No legs. Half a waist gone. Whole bodies rotting. One eye popped out. Some barely human anymore—how they were still breathing, no one could say.

Batis and Leon heaved into their hands, stomachs emptying, breath caught in the stench and the sight.

My guts are twisting, but I’m holding on—just barely. Still, I wonder if Layra’s okay. We’re still in the hallway. But she—she went straight for the door. Saw this up close.

I look at Layra. There she is—same as always.

And I flinch.

How can she be so calm?

How can she stand there, so steady?

How can she not even be breathing hard?!

“Lay…ra?”

“Are you three all right? You look terrible.”

Layra turns, her face soft with sorrow. But that’s all.

“Is Layra… okay?”

“Yes. I’ve seen this before.”

“Are you… a war victim?”

The head nurse, still massaging Batis’s back, asks her. Layra gives a single nod.

“Village burned to cinders by Armunale, chased by soldiers, barely made it to another town. Searched for my family, visited hospital after hospital, all this light and noise…”

“Your family?”

Layra shook her head.

“Never found them. Not a single clinic had my father. They said they’d died. But even their graves—no bones. Nothing.”

I noticed her shoulders trembling. Her fists, clenched so tight the nails were breaking skin.

“They’re still lucky. At least they left bones behind. Can sleep under proper earth. My father… even that was denied. Just lived. Laughed about good harvests, that’s all. Just that. That’s all we did!”

And then—right then—I regretted bringing her here.

This place hits Rayla’s trauma hardest.

It’s where the painful memories come back sharp as a knife.

Where her hatred grows the strongest.

“Eld… thank you for bringing me here today. Living at the academy, I’d forgotten what it felt like.”

“Rayla.”

“I hate the Empire. So I’ll get my revenge. I’ll gain power—then kill every last one of them who took my family from me.”

Rayla begins to walk slowly down the hall. She sways like a ghost, but the air around her hums with something too heavy to ignore.

“Rayla!”

She stops. Turns.

“Ah… I almost forgot. Eld… I—”

“—I absolutely hate Armunale.”

That day was the turning point, I suppose. Rayla’s piloting after returning from the city outside drill—she’d changed. Rougher than ever before.