Between Your Letter and My Reply

Chapter 12

[Translation By Divinity]

Damian was starting to feel burdened by Lintray’s letters, even though he welcomed them.

‘This is where it ends. I need to stop before it’s too late.’

[Even though I’m sending them by express delivery, it feels like the letters are taking longer and longer to arrive. Is it just me? I’m not trying to rush you! I know you’re busy, Lieutenant. But I can’t help but feel a little disappointed. I’m still a young lady at a sensitive age, you know. Please indulge me a little.]

Lintray wrote in a light, playful tone, but Damian pondered her words.

[Always take care, and may the goddesses of luck and victory be with you in the new year.

December 27th, 1878. At the end of the year, Lintray.]

Damian crumpled the letter into a ball. He raised his arm to throw it away but then lowered it weakly. The crumpled letter rolled out of his hand.

Damian decided not to send Lintray a New Year’s greeting.

☆

[To my dear friend, Second Lieutenant McCord.

It’s been two weeks since I sent my last letter, but I haven’t received yours yet. Was there a problem with the delivery? Or did something happen to you? I hope it’s the former. I haven’t even received a New Year’s greeting from you yet, and I’m worried it’ll be too late to even call it the new year.

January 14th, 1879. Lintray, worried about Second Lieutenant McCord.]

[To Second Lieutenant McCord, who is making me anxious.

It’s almost too late to call it the new year. February is just around the corner. I’m getting really worried because I still haven’t received your letter. Did I send it to the wrong address? Were you transferred to a different unit? Are you not replying because you mistakenly think I’m tired of exchanging letters since you haven’t received mine? If you’re feeling down and not sending letters because of that misunderstanding, that would be terrible. But even then, it’s strange. Even if you were transferred, I thought you’d send me a letter with your new address.

Second Lieutenant McCord, are you really okay…? Nothing’s wrong, is there? Please reply.

January 29th, 1879. Lintray, deeply concerned about you.]

[To Second Lieutenant McCord, whose life or death is uncertain.

Lieutenant, are you alive? You’re not really dead, are you? If you’re not replying even though you have both your hands, I’m getting on a train to Lebe. Please write back soon.

February 16th, 1879. Lintray, a bit upset.]

☆

“Lieutenant Stern, you should pick up your letters promptly.”

Paul, who had come to find Damian eating combat rations under a blanket in the barracks, poked Damian’s temple with a roll of letters.

Damian glanced at it and turned his head away.

“Those aren’t mine. They’re for Second Lieutenant McCord.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I know you’re using the pseudonym ‘McCord’ for your pen pal.”

“How did you know?”

“I inspect every single letter that comes and goes. How could I not know?”

“…”

Damian was silent for a moment, chewing his food, then swallowed and spoke.

“I’m not McCord anymore.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That’s how it is. Speaking of which, I should tell the person in charge to discard all letters addressed to Second Lieutenant McCord from now on.”

Paul looked back and forth between the letters in his hand and Damian.

“You’re not doing the pen pal thing anymore?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I’m tired of it.”

“Hmm…”

Paul looked puzzled, but Damian’s expression remained unchanged.

Paul was still holding out the letters, so Damian slowly took them. Then he tossed them into the fire he had lit to heat his rations.

Paul jumped up.

“Hey!”

“What?”

“At least read them out of respect for the sender.”

“Is there a need? I’m not going to reply anyway.”

“Aren’t you even curious about what she wrote? Why burn them? It’s a waste.”

“What difference does it make if I’m curious? I’m not interested in her anymore, and I won’t be replying. I’ve already burned all the letters I received.”

“…Did you two fight?”

“No, nothing like that. I’m just tired of it.”

“Well, I can’t say anything if that’s the case…”

Paul shook his head at Damian’s blunt words.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“What’s not to be okay about?”

“True.”

Paul watched with a bitter expression as the letters Damian had thrown turned to ashes. But Damian didn’t even glance at them until the very end.

“Speaking of which, about tomorrow’s operation…”

Damian changed the subject with an obviousness that anyone could see.

“Is our platoon enough?”

Paul’s face hardened as he looked at Damian.

“I don’t want to send my platoon members into a death trap. I request reinforcements.”

“That’s the third time you’ve said that, and this is the third time I’m answering: there are no reinforcements, Lieutenant.”

“Why not?”

Damian’s voice sharpened.

“At first, you said it was a diversionary tactic. But this means our platoon will be bait while the main force attacks from the rear, whether we get wiped out or not. We’re not supposed to die as bait, but the scale is different, Major. We’re severely undermanned. It sounds like you’re planning to abandon us.”

“I never said that. I told you to reach the safe zone and wait for the bombardment, Lieutenant. Didn’t I say the plan was to corner them from both sides and wipe them out with a bombardment? If the operation goes well, you’ll survive. I have no intention of leaving you to die.”

Paul had no intention of changing the already decided plan.

So Damian changed his question.

“Why our platoon? I don’t think we’re more suited for this operation than any other platoon. There are plenty of other options. But you specifically chose us. Why?”

Paul looked down at Damian with a purely military gaze. Damian let out a somewhat cynical laugh and said,

“Is it because I’m here?”

“What do you mean by that, Lieutenant?”

“If you had to choose someone expendable in this unit, you’d probably pick me, wouldn’t you?”

Paul grabbed Damian by the collar and pulled him up.

“Say that again.”

“Marquis Jeska would be delighted if I died in action. But I’ve stubbornly survived for two years. I’m sure that’s frustrating for him.”

Damian let out a dry chuckle.

“But with a reckless operation like this, even if I die, you won’t be blamed…!”

“Shut up, Lieutenant. Do you even realize what you’re saying?”

Paul’s eyes blazed with anger. But Damian didn’t back down.

“I don’t trust you. You’re a Jeska too. A friendly cousin? Don’t make me laugh. You’re still the Marquis’ eyes and ears.”

“I won’t tolerate any more insults, Lieutenant.”

“Then give us reinforcements. I don’t want my platoon members to die.”

Damian stared at Paul with dark eyes. Paul glared back, then clicked his tongue and roughly released Damian’s collar.

“I chose your platoon for this operation because I value your abilities. I trusted your skills, the ones that earned you two medals and a fast promotion!”

“That’s my ability, not my platoon members’.”

“A subordinate’s ability can change depending on their commander’s competence.”

Paul cracked his neck and sighed.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear what you just said. But if you spout such nonsense again, I’ll execute you on the spot with my authority.”

Damian looked away from Paul.

He knew that provoking Paul with the family name was just venting his anger, but he couldn’t help but sneer.

But if he could get reinforcements or be removed from the operation by provoking Paul with the family, he was willing to say anything.

“No matter what you say, there will be no reinforcements.”

Paul spoke in a somewhat ‘soldierly’ tone.

“That’s an order.”

Damian bit his lip.