Chapter 19

“I went to get my noise levels measured.”

Commander Dezeb Avganis stared at her in silence for a long moment before asking again.

“What about the medical office?”

“I... I went there too.”

“And?”

“Well, the clinic’s equipment is... supposedly more precise, so I went there as well...”

As the words left her mouth, Lieutenant Erabelle Vermilion lowered her gaze.

“Any other services you used?”

“N... no. Nothing else.”

Dezeb observed her in quiet contemplation.

“In the future, Erabelle... inform me before you go.”

Erabelle cautiously lifted her head to gauge his demeanor. Before she could offer a response, his expression softened and he offered a warm smile, as though the preceding tension had vanished into thin air.

“Let’s eat dinner, shall we?”

It was as if the oppressive weight of the moment had been nothing more than a trick of her imagination.

“So... what were the test results?” he asked, standing up to casually retrieve a meal box.

“They were within normal range.”

“That is good to hear.”

“I... I mean it. I really—”

The words died in her throat. He stepped into her space, leaned down, and brushed a soft kiss against her lips. His breath was intoxicatingly warm, sending a sharp chill coursing down her spine.

“Let’s eat first,” he murmured gently. “We can talk afterward. The food is getting cold.”

***

“Do you remember the blood test from the other day?”

After dinner, the two of them sat side by side on the couch—an arrangement that had, somehow, settled into routine, though Erabelle still could not fathom how or why.

Dezeb handed her a can of beer, her fingers tightening around the cold aluminum.

“Yes, I remember.”

“Your NS level came back at 147, indicating a high likelihood of compatibility. But because matches involving brigade commanders or higher are classified, I was not permitted to disclose the results to you immediately. I hope you understand.”

“Then... does that mean...?”

“Yes. You and I are compatible.”

Commander Dezeb Avganis confirmed it, effectively sealing her fate.

All that’s left is to dig a hole and lie down in it.

“That is a good thing, is it not?”

Still reeling from the revelation, Erabelle looked up at him. Gazing at his absurdly striking Level-13 features only deepened the hollow ache in her chest. He offered a casual shrug.

“Discovering that someone you are drawn to is actually compatible? That is quite fortunate.”

He offered a light, effortless chuckle.

“D-Drawn... You mean me?”

“Is there anyone else here?”

I wish there were.

“Is it truly that shocking?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “Why do you think I have been acting this way toward you? Your results came back three days after the draw.”

“I...”

“I am sure you are aware by now—I do not have only one compatible partner. But I was drawn to you from the beginning.”

Erabelle let out a shaky breath.

In truth, she was unsure which realization was more jarring: that she was compatible with him, or that he had just openly confessed his attraction to her. Somehow, the latter felt even less plausible.

“I am Level 2.”

“Frankly, to me, everyone below a certain threshold looks identical—equally unappealing.”

That... actually makes sense.

“Still, could it not be an error?”

“How would such a thing be possible?”

His unyielding tone abruptly closed the subject. Erabelle’s mouth parted in stunned silence until Dezeb gently tilted her chin up with a fingertip, pressing another fleeting kiss to her lips.

“Now that we have cleared that up, I am going to take a shower.”

Nothing has been cleared up...

Yet he was already striding toward the bathroom. Before long, he emerged, towel-drying his damp hair while wearing nothing but track pants, as if this were just another ordinary evening.

Erabelle blinked slowly, her eyes falling to the empty beer can in her hand.

When did I finish this?

Uneasy, she stood up and retrieved another can from the refrigerator.

“Are you certain you should be drinking more?” Dezeb remarked, casually flipping through his pad screen. “You typically develop gastritis when stressed. And I am likely the reason you are at your limit right now.”

If only I could lie and deny it...

However, he held direct authorization over her medical records at the infirmary. She had always questioned why he bothered reviewing such trivial reports; now, the reason was painfully clear.

“I think... one more should be fine.”

“If you end up with another stomach flare-up, I will be displeased.”

“In that case... perhaps I shouldn’t.”

Dezeb suddenly dropped his gaze, his shoulders quivering subtly.

Why is he laughing...?

While he chuckled for reasons beyond her comprehension, Erabelle felt nothing but mounting dread.

It’s terrifying. Of all people... I am his compatible partner? That is horrifying.

Perhaps it was time to re-examine the farewell letter she had stashed away in the freezer. She could likely arrange a conditional insurance payout at the post office as well...

“Actually... maybe one more won’t hurt.”

Yielding to impulse, Erabelle cracked open the can, offering a weak justification to the man now observing her intently.

“How about we watch something other than a horror movie tonight?”

Dezeb narrowed his eyes in silent amusement.

He knew. He was fully aware that she only ever chose horror movies to give herself a valid excuse to tremble beside him...

Ugh...

There was still some whiskey left in the fridge. Mixing it with beer was likely a terrible idea. If only she could simply lose consciousness in the emergency room for a few days...

“Yes, well...”

This time, she selected a mystery thriller over a horror film.

“If you are confident it won’t frighten you, go ahead and play it.”

Lacking even a shred of confidence in that assertion, she quietly switched the selection to a comedy show instead.

It had not even begun, and he was already soft-laughing.

Then, as if on cue, he powered off his pad entirely and moved over to join her on the couch.

He could never focus during horror films, but comedies? He watched those without issue. In fact, they seemed remarkably suited to his taste.

The realization brought a wave of profound, absurd sorrow.

“......”

I don’t know anymore. Where is my life even heading?

Erabelle stared vacantly at the screen.

Beside her, Dezeb let out an occasional huff of laughter as comedians costumed as professors debated whether whales were mammals or fish.

They are obviously fish. That way, the audience gets even more aggravated...

A dull ache began to build in her lower back. As she shifted slightly, Dezeb instinctively reached for a cushion and passed it to her, as the entire pile had accumulated on his side. Erabelle accepted it and pulled it tight against her chest.

A crisp evening breeze drifted through the balcony doors, carrying the faint, familiar scent of a well-used cushion.

I should probably do laundry soon...

“Throw it in the wash later. Ah, and we are out of detergent, correct? You don’t have a brand preference, do you? Not that it matters—I already placed an order.”

“No, I don’t... have a preference.”

Sitting side by side, watching a comedy broadcast and discussing laundry detergent—there was something deeply unsettling about how seamless it all felt. Which only heightened her anxiety. A relentless, vicious cycle.

***

“I need to step out of the office for a short trip.”

Astonishingly, Lieutenant Erabelle Vermilion was still among the living—six weeks later.

The cause remained a mystery.

She woke up every morning, reported for duty, carried out her assignments, occasionally took late shifts... precisely as she had for the past two years. And yet, against all odds, she was still breathing.

“I will be away for about five days.”

Dezeb had mentioned early this morning that he needed to depart for a journey. It carried the air of... a personal matter.

She was certain it was not official business, given that all of his uniforms—both combat dress and service attire—remained at her apartment, and he had departed straight for the shuttle terminal without packing a single bag.

At this point, does he even go home anymore...?

“...Why do I have so much clutter in here?”

It was a rare, quiet morning without the commander present. Erabelle seized the opportunity to finally tidy up using her personal Miro unit.

Out of the Twenty-One Great Spirits, she utilized a single unit for private affairs.

Because it was a newer model with limited storage capacity, high command had not bothered to monitor it closely. Consequently, she simply treated it as her own storage vault—haphazardly and without much care.

“So much trash...”

She commanded the half-manifested Miro to open its mouth and began sorting recyclables inside. She had deferred the task for as long as possible, but the time to deploy the unit was drawing near; further delay was impossible.

Discarded food wrappers tied off in bags, debris she had swept beneath furniture during frantic cleaning sprees, and even a camper van she had parked inside... she set about purging it all.

She had purchased that secondhand camper van during her academy days to cut down on lodging expenses. Now it resided within her Miro, serving as a crude makeshift bedroom.

The interior of the vehicle still bore the scars of her cadet years: a table scratched from a night of heavy drinking, a dented trash bin she had kicked in frustration, a curtain torn halfway down—also during an intoxicated stupor...

Ah... back when my liver still functioned properly.

“I’m going to run out of disposal bags.”

I’ll just half-ass it. That had been the plan from the beginning, but now she possessed a legitimate excuse. Happily embracing the bare minimum, Erabelle was in the midst of her "cleaning" when a delivery arrived.

A package from 59. She had completely forgotten that she had ordered additional medical supplies.

[Muscle Enhancer B]

[Speed-Up A]

[Shield Disk]

[Mana Regulator]

...The list went on. She had essentially procured anything that might prove useful in a combat zone. There were even bio-ampoules included in the crate.

Did I truly desire survival this desperately...?

Well, naturally she wanted to live. Yet seeing an entire crate overflowing with life-preserving gear... left her with a strange, hollow feeling.

Honestly. I survived two whole years. I cannot die now—if only out of sheer spite.

“...A combat zone, huh.”

Erabelle fell into thought for a brief moment before shaking herself free of it. She sealed the box, shoved it into the far corner of the camper van, and powered on her communicator.

“Hello? Lieutenant Ovia? You are available right now, correct?”

Before she could even finish the sentence, an absolute deluge of profanity erupted from the other end of the line.