That evening. Weymouth City Hall.
The air inside the command post had grown considerably more relaxed. They had found every last remnant of the enemy and all their hidden supplies.
“With this, the urban sweep is finished as well….”
A red sunset lay over the harbor beyond the window, while the brigade’s key personnel remained in the conference room and continued the accounting.
“The item on the agenda is the special operations fund handed down from the homeland.”
Chief of Staff Helga placed a thick ledger on the desk.
With an indifferent expression, I skimmed the numbers stamped in the ledger.
The operations fund—cash assets alone totaled 3,500 gold. On top of that, there were spare parts for tanks, top-grade field rations, and sets of medicine for the wounded. Converted into supplies, their value reached tens of thousands of gold.
“…The scale is considerable.”
The officers around me looked surprised. Even Helga seemed slightly stiff, as though it was her first time seeing numbers like these.
“Well, it’s nothing to be surprised about, is it?”
I shrugged and picked up my pen.
“The entire Empire knows our unit is special. We have the attention of His Excellency the Commander-in-Chief and His Majesty the Emperor, and we stand at the very forefront of every important operation.”
“Positive press coverage has also increased recently. It is not merely third-rate newspapers anymore; we are occasionally mentioned even by major media outlets.”
“…I think I’ve seen that article too.”
I didn’t say it aloud, but behind the scenes, there were slush funds managed by capable asset managers and an underworld cartel swelling in size in real time.
Official military support had been added to backstage capital.
So it was goodbye forever to the days when, as a dirt-poor second lieutenant, I had crawled and rolled through the mud, desperate for every bullet and every can of food.
‘The justification is perfect, too.’
This was money the Imperial Command had openly handed to our brigade to use. How should I make use of it?
Just running the calculations in my head naturally brought a smile to my lips. I glanced around at the subordinates seated in the conference room one by one and continued the discussion.
“Since we’re about to have money rotting in piles, let’s make sure we pour it into the places that need it. If each battalion needs anything, speak up.”
No sooner had I spoken than Frederica shot her hand into the air.
“The armored battalion has a request!”
She looked unusually excited. Her emerald eyes were sparkling like a child begging for a new toy.
“The operational rate of the new tanks is excellent, but due to the poor local road conditions, track wear and contamination of the air filters are severe. In addition, I would like to stockpile a generous supply of high-explosive shells for urban defense.”
‘Status Analysis.’
[Name: Frederica von Kessel]
[Status: Blind yearning for tank maintenance, anticipation]
An armored idiot who thought of nothing but tanks.
I chuckled at her unwavering consistency and nodded.
“Good. I’ll approve all parts requisitions for the armored battalion. I’ll instruct Lieutenant Aiden to have them airlifted with top priority through Sergeant Sternberg.”
“Yes, understood, Colonel!”
Frederica sat down, looking satisfied.
I naturally turned my gaze and met the eyes of Elise, who was wearing a white doctor’s coat.
“Major Elise. How are things with the medical unit?”
Elise answered with a gentle smile.
“The operations have been carried out so efficiently that the wounded soldiers’ recoveries are going smoothly. Their injuries simply aren’t serious to begin with. However, to control the local hospitals and prevent infectious disease, we need additional penicillin, disinfectants, and large quantities of bandages. Hygiene can never be emphasized enough.”
It was an answer that brought Elancia to mind.
‘There were lunatics who blew up the sewer facilities, weren’t there.’
Of course, even without such insane terrorists, the importance of hygiene remained unchanged.
“Absolutely right. I’ll double the medical unit’s requested quantities and telegraph them to the homeland.”
Elise’s brown eyes curved even more softly.
[Name: Elise von Kleist]
[Status: Respect, relief, heightened sense of duty as a doctor]
“Then, next.”
The order was already set. My gaze turned toward Seraphina on the opposite side of the conference room. She was sitting with impeccable posture.
“What about the infantry battalion? Since it makes up most of our brigade’s headcount, it must have the most things it needs.”
At my question, Seraphina’s shoulders twitched ever so slightly. Her blue eyes alternated between the budget ledger on the table and my face.
On the surface, her expression was merely as cold as ice… but I knew. That was the face Seraphina made when she was shaken.
‘Hmm…? Status Analysis.’
[Name: Seraphina von Reinhardt]
[Status: Silence, financial intimidation]
[Emotion: So many astronomical sums of gold coins… Our brigade uses them as if it’s nothing. A sum large enough to pay off the wretched debts of House Reinhardt in an instant has landed like this, and it feels like I’m going to suffer cognitive dissonance.]
It was a more small-citizen reaction than I expected. No, perhaps it was extremely realistic.
Frederica and Elise came from noble families that would never lack for money. To Hannah, who came from the rural common folk, this was probably a tale from some far-off other world.
But Seraphina’s position, caught between the two, was a little different.
‘I did hear rumors that House Reinhardt’s finances were in a terrible state.’
Her family was an insignificant border baronial house on the outskirts of the Empire. Noble only in its glossy shell; in reality, it was a poor household drowning in debt.
I knew that one of the reasons she had taken the path of a soldier and clung so fiercely to promotion was because of that damned family debt.
So seeing amounts of gold she would never touch in her lifetime moving back and forth on paper must have numbed both the young lady’s pride and her sense of money.
Not the colonel who had been a commoner orphan, nor the noncommissioned officer from the rural common folk, but the major from a debtor noble family was the most out-of-place person in this meeting.
“Major?”
“Ah… ahem, ahem! Hm.”
Seraphina cleared her throat several times, then forced herself to hide her wavering eyes and lowered her voice as if trying to sound firm.
“The… the foundation of infantry is sturdy legs and a rifle. Due to frequent urban combat and marches, the soles of the soldiers’ boots are severely worn. A full replacement with new model boots is required. And in preparation for the dampness of the coming late autumn and winter, cold-weather clothing and poncho raincoats…”
As though she had to save every last coin, she began listing only extremely modest and practical items. With a budget of thousands of gold in front of her, she was talking about boot soles, of all things.
“And replacement parts for the old bolt-action rifles…”
“Wait.”
I tapped the desk with my pen and cut her off. Seraphina’s eyes went round.
“That’s far too modest, Major. Did I tell you to save money?”
“Pardon? B-but, Colonel. Infantry doctrine has always emphasized the efficient distribution of supplies…”
“That’s the sort of thing petty bastards like Inspector Zwinger say.”
I smiled and scrawled numbers onto the corner of the document.
“All vanguard companies of the infantry battalion are to discard their old rifles. While we’re at it, let’s arm all the infantry of our Jaeger Brigade with new submachine guns and semi-automatic rifles. Issue five grenades per man to the brim, and double the mortar support weapons assigned to each company.”
“C-Colonel?! The budget for that would…!”
Seraphina half-rose from her seat in horror, but I raised a hand and stopped her.
“Did you say the foundation of infantry is sturdy legs? Wrong. The foundation of infantry is firepower and mobility. We won’t make them walk on human feet; we’ll assign armored cars or half-tracks and raise the motorization rate of the entire infantry battalion to one hundred percent.”
The superficial reason was to improve the soldiers’ survival rate and speed of advance.
Of course, there was a slightly different idea mixed into my head as well.
‘If I put assault rifles that will be developed later into their hands and combine that with stormtrooper doctrine…’
I might be able to unfold modern infantry tactics in earnest.
“In any case, it means reducing the soldiers’ fatigue and advancing swiftly. Understood?”
At my words, Seraphina’s lips parted slightly.
“……!”
I snapped my fingers and looked at Helga.
“We already have enough supplies. And we still have room to request additional requirements from Command. For the rest, we can make use of affiliated partner companies through Lieutenant Aiden.”
Helga noted it down in the ledger without a word of complaint.
“That concludes the meeting. Commanders, return to your units and focus on reorganizing them.”
“Yes, understood!”
*
After the meeting ended, I returned to the luxury residence near City Hall that had been assigned to me as my temporary quarters.
Around the time I had thrown off my coat and military boots, a system window appeared.
[You have completed the mission to eliminate the remaining elements in Weymouth City and stabilize public order.]
[You have gained experience as a reward.]
It had not been a bad day.
The brigade’s reorganization was proceeding smoothly, and Weymouth’s public order was well under control.
“Shall I check now?”
I lightly swirled the glass of whiskey on the sofa table and closed my eyes.
‘Vision Sharing.’
[The skill “Vision Sharing (Lv.1)” has been activated.]
[You will share the visual information of the designated target (“Sidney Wellesley”) in real time.]
Bzzzt—
With faint noise, the darkness lifted, and another person’s vision poured into my mind.
Slightly dim lighting. Luxurious wooden furniture. It seemed to be Sidney’s private lodging.
Rustle.
Sidney was standing in front of a mirror. Her hands moved as she peeled off her black leather gloves one by one and placed them on the desk.
‘Of all times, it has to be this timing again.’
I leaned back deeply into the sofa. Holding my glass of whiskey, I sipped it and enjoyed her view.
Sidney reflected in the mirror looked utterly exhausted. Considering she had been stuck with me all day running operations, it was understandable.
Her lavender eyes were slightly unfocused, and her shoulders were lower than usual.
She slowly took off her suit jacket and hung it over a chair.
Then she loosened her tie and began undoing the buttons of her taut white blouse from the top, one by one.
Click.
The closed collar parted. Her pale, smooth nape and deeply carved collarbones rose and fell minutely in time with her exhalation.
Pop, pop.
Each time a button came undone, snow-white skin was revealed.
The front of the taut blouse opened as if it had been waiting, and through the widening gap, a deep cleavage came into view.
At last, the blouse lost all strength and slipped down to either side. Two steeply swelling, abundant hemispheres. The black lace underwear encasing her chest was of a design that seemed to have been chosen with quite some care.
Pop, pop.
After the last button came undone, Sidney lightly shrugged her shoulders and let the blouse fall to the floor.
“……Hoo.”
After taking off even her pitch-black suit trousers and being left in only her underwear, she turned on the sink and washed her face roughly. With splashing sounds, water scattered everywhere around the basin.
Soon, after wiping away the moisture with a towel, she stared blankly at her own reflection in the mirror.
“……Ngh.”
Sidney suddenly flinched. At the same time, her previously pale nape and chest flushed red.
Sip.
‘Status Analysis.’
I emptied my glass of whiskey and activated the skill.
[Name: Sidney Wellesley]
[Status: Physical fatigue, easing tension, deep contemplation]
[Emotion: The events in the basement will not leave her mind. She thinks he is an insolent and rude man… but is bewildered by the strange sense of relief she felt in that moment.]
[Hidden Desire: Suppressing the weak instinct to rely wholly on someone amid all of this.]
“……This really isn’t the time.”
Sidney threw off even her underwear and entered the shower room.
Shwaaaa—
For a moment, streams of water poured down and wrapped around Sidney’s naked body.
Drip.
Sidney wiped away the moisture and came out of the shower room. After putting on the underwear she had prepared, she draped a dark navy silk robe over it.
‘Is she going to sleep?’
I tossed the last of the whiskey down my throat and tried to release the skill.
‘Skill relea… huh?’
But Sidney’s next actions were interesting. After tightening the belt firmly around her waist, she headed toward a secret door hidden inside the bedroom.
Creeeak.
‘So she had something like this.’
Beyond the door was a Class-1 secure communications room established in Weymouth’s temporary headquarters.
Inside stood a large analog encrypted telegraph machine. Countless gears and plugs were intertwined in a complex web—the essence of military security.
“Good work. You may go.”
Sidney dismissed the waiting agent, then sat down in front of the telegraph herself.
Click, click. She skillfully manipulated the machine’s dials. Soon, a top-secret frequency connecting to somewhere was tuned in.
‘A communication before bed. Who could it be?’
Bzzzt— Beep. Tick.
The telegraph needle busily moved and began spitting out a strip of punched paper tape.
Sidney scanned the encrypted perforation patterns with her naked eye and immediately decoded them in her head.
[My dear Sidney]
The contents were somewhat embarrassing.