The Eve of Action

It was the twelfth day since the 4th Platoon had arrived in Hekar. Nothing unexpected had happened since the other three platoons were deployed to support the mission, and all the preliminary preparations were now nearly complete—only the Luvina military uniforms and weapons for disguise had yet to arrive.

"The mission officially starts the day after tomorrow. We've been prepping for so long... Let's hope everything goes smoothly."

Edwin sat on a sofa in the second-floor common lounge, a cigarette dangling from his lips. Across from him, Nordhausen sipped from a glass of strong liquor.

"You never smoke, do you?"

Edwin turned suddenly, as if remembering something he'd meant to ask many times before but never found the right moment.

"I used to. Then I quit."

Nordhausen swirled his glass, downing the last sip of the amber liquid.

"You quit? Why?"

"…"

The alcohol hit hard and fast. Even a seasoned drinker like Nordhausen felt its strength from just that single sip.

"That's some serious kick…"

He offered his only comment on the matter.

"…"

"What was that you just said?"

Putting down his glass, Nordhausen finally rejoined the conversation.

"I asked why you quit smoking…"

Truth be told, Nordhausen was never one to part from alcohol. You wouldn't notice during missions, but once things slowed down, he could drink all day. Edwin and Otto had long since grown used to it.

"Oh, that…"

Nordhausen lowered his head, silent for a moment—either lost in memory or still under the influence of the liquor.

"That goes back to when I first enlisted…"

"Damn, that must've been what—fifty, sixty years ago?"

Thanks to bio-enhancement treatments, the Night Knights aged much more slowly. Some among their ranks had even served during the reign of Dazilet nearly 170 years ago, remaining true to their vows and loyal to the crown.

"One night, not long after I joined the army and was sent to the front, I had a craving and lit a cigarette. Didn't take blackout protocol seriously. The result? Artillery came down like rain. I was lucky to find cover, but I watched a buddy of mine—joined up the same day—get his head split open by shrapnel. Others were blown apart... Since then, I never touched a cigarette again."

"…I've done something just as stupid, but during a peacetime drill…"

A heavy silence settled over the room.

"Spent the first half of my life farming. Didn't even know what a rifle looked like, let alone what blackout protocol meant. Still, we went to war…"

Edwin lit another cigarette, taking a long drag as if trying to push back the weight in his chest.

"You two philosophizing again?"

Otto stepped out of the meeting room, lit a cigarette of his own, and plopped down beside them.

"Yep. Two ordinary folk swapping tales of misery."

Edwin leaned forward, tapping ash into the tray from his half-smoked cigarette.

"So I guess a 'high-born noble' like me doesn't qualify to join the club?"

"Nope—if it's you, then you definitely belong. Hahahaha…"

"Hey, Charlie! This is the peasant's lounge—don't come in here…"

Charlie glanced over at the three laughing lunatics from the 4th Platoon, shook his head in resignation, and went about his duties.

Up on the third floor, Arcia was sitting upright in bed, fully absorbed in a book. Sennia remembered that one—it was something Arcia picked from the safehouse's study, and she'd nearly finished it after reading for several days.

"What's the little one reading?"

Inaya crept closer, curling her tail around the book in Arcia's hands and tugging it slightly toward herself.

Maybe someone finally thought it was unseemly to keep a girl chained in the hallway. Rogm and Nemilic both suggested moving Inaya elsewhere, dismissing Otto's concerns even after he showed them the melted lock head. They claimed he was overreacting. So Otto had no choice but to relocate Inaya to a room with constant supervision—Sennia and Arcia's. It didn't feel right to lock her up with a bunch of men, and to be safe, Otto even assigned Shatiel—Inaya's personal nemesis—to stay in the same room. A heavy chain now kept Inaya confined to a certain radius.

"Just because your chain's been loosened doesn't mean you can do whatever you want."

Arcia calmly pulled the book back into her hands without so much as glancing up.

"Oh, don't be such a bore. If you're still mad about the whole lightning incident, I apologize. Believe me, I wouldn't have chosen that kind of meeting either."

"…"

Arcia kept her head down, continuing to read, completely ignoring her.

"Geez, what a killjoy."

Defeated once again, Inaya pranced cat-like onto Sennia's bed. Shatiel, sensing the motion, already had a hand on her dagger.

"Oho~ You two seem pretty close~"

Noticing Shatiel's reaction, Inaya smirked and slowly edged toward Sennia with a mischievous look in her eyes.

"What are you trying to do?"

Sennia subtly gestured for Shatiel to hold her ground while straightening her posture to face Inaya directly.

"I want to see just how much she cares about you~"

With a flirtatious purr, Inaya pressed her chest against Sennia's back, wrapping her arms around her and letting her tail slip under Sennia's shirt.

"You—"

Sennia's face flushed bright red and she was about to push away when—

WHAM!

Shatiel's side kick slammed into Inaya, launching her like a ragdoll into the wall. Shatiel then calmly lowered her leg and returned to her previous stance, expressionless.

"You… damn kid… that kick was brutal…"

Even Arcia spared a quick glance from her book. Inaya lay crumpled on the floor, struggling to get back up.

"You okay…?"

Sennia tried to stifle a laugh, but Inaya looked so miserable it felt wrong to actually laugh out loud.

"…"

Inaya said nothing and quietly began healing herself.

"What happened?! What was that noise?!"

Edwin burst into the room, followed by Nordhausen and Otto.

"Nothing! It's fine, really…"

Sennia waved her hands nervously. The moment the three men saw Inaya on the floor, they exchanged a look of understanding, then closed the door and left without a word.

"Are all you southerners like this…"

Muttering, Inaya hobbled back to Sennia's bed, now keeping a noticeable distance between them.

"You started it."

Sennia shot her a look.

"…"

Inaya had no rebuttal. She had no choice but to bow her head—when you're the prisoner, you don't get to make the rules…

"I used to assassinate High Archpriests… now I'm getting beat up by kids like you…"

A tragic fall from grace, and fate offered no apologies.

"By the way, I've been meaning to ask—how old are you?"

Sennia asked suddenly, ignoring Inaya's gloomy self-pity.

"A little over one-twenty. Why?"

"One hundred and… twenty?!"

Sennia looked utterly stunned. The petite, youthful catgirl in front of her was older than a century?

"What's so surprising? Didn't that guy earlier live just as long?"

She was clearly referring to Nordhausen.

"How'd you know that?"

Inaya tilted her head with a feigned look of innocence, like it wasn't even a secret.

"I could feel it."

"You can feel someone's age?"

"Of course."

She turned her attention to Sennia, narrowing her eyes in concentration.

"You're probably around… twenty-one to twenty-three?"

"I'm twenty…"

"Close enough."

"And this little one…"

Inaya's gaze shifted to Arcia, who remained engrossed in her book.

"She's not even a full year younger than you."

"Huh?"

Based on her physique, Arcia seemed far younger. Inaya seemed to pick up on Sennia's confusion.

"She probably didn't eat well growing up. Stunted her development. I looked like that when I was her age."

The explanation sounded plausible, but Sennia knew too little about Arcia's past—and Arcia wouldn't share it even if asked.

Sure enough, Arcia didn't react at all, as if their whole conversation was just background noise.

"And that one over there…"

Inaya scowled toward Shatiel.

"About twenty-two, give or take."

Honestly, Sennia was already convinced. She just didn't know how Inaya was pulling it off.

"It's not guesswork. You can feel the weight of a soul."

"What is that, some kind of magic?"

Mystical, incomprehensible nonsense.

"Not a spell. More like… intuition."

"Right…"

It was beyond Sennia's grasp, but she let it slide.

"Anyway, after days of careful thought, I've decided to make you an offer."

"…An offer?"

Sennia hadn't expected this shift in tone.

"I'll teach you magic. In exchange, you let me go."

Inaya crossed her legs, clearly thinking the upper hand was hers.

"Well? You southerners don't have any spell traditions, right? Even south of the desert they're casting now. Won't be long before the whole South becomes spell-capable."

"I'd love to say yes… but with how the South handles things now, odds are you'd just end up in a lab—dissected."

"Dissected? What's that?"

Poor Miss Black Cat didn't even know what horrors might await her. Sennia felt a tinge of sympathy.

"Ladies."

Edwin knocked and stepped inside, speaking seriously:

"It's our turn to attend the briefing."

Sennia and Arcia exchanged a glance and followed him out.

"Think about my offer—seriously!"

Inaya called after them, but the door shut behind them. She and Shatiel were left alone once more.

"Well, fine…"

Shatiel remained silent, motionless. But that was precisely what made Inaya afraid to act out. With nothing else to do, she picked up the book Arcia had been reading earlier.

"The Tale of the Princess and the Knight?"

With no better options, she sighed and started reading from the beginning.