"C-could you please call that technician here again?"
Frederica looked up at me with a desperate gaze.
"Please ask him to touch my Unit 101 just one more time. I don't need anything else. Just… like before…."
I rested my chin on my hand and stared intently at her.
*Status Analysis.*
[*Name: Frederica von Kessel*]
[*Status: Withdrawal symptoms. Craving the 'Perfect Tank'.*]
[*Emotions: Shame, anticipation, a strange dependency.*]
An interesting result.
The 'perfect machine' she so desperately longed for was ultimately a product of my [Material Conversion] and [Armament Mastery].
To this genius officer with a mechanical obsession, I had unknowingly given her a taste of a drug. Like a gourmet who had tasted the finest cuisine and could no longer bring himself to look at military slop.
She could no longer be satisfied with Imperial Army standard specifications.
In that case, satisfying her thirst immediately would be the work of an amateur. I had to torment her more, make her more desperate. Only then could I place this haughty elite major firmly in the palm of my hand.
"I refuse."
I closed the documents with a deliberately cold expression.
"…L-Lieutenant Colonel?"
"The homeland technical team clearly issued a combat fitness evaluation, did they not? Re-maintaining it unnecessarily is an unnecessary expense."
I twirled my pen and glared at her.
"B-but…!"
"A tank is not a work of art, Major. It's a consumable that only needs to roll and fire its gun. Unit 101 is perfectly fine right now. Yet wanting to waste unnecessary manpower and resources on it sounds like nothing more than a commander's whim."
"…!"
Frederica's eyebrows twitched.
"C-consumable… did you say?"
Her eyes had gone cold and settled before she knew it.
"Please retract those words."
"Retract?"
I had no reason to.
"Did I say something wrong? A tank is a hunk of machinery made of steel and oil. If it blows up on the battlefield, you discard it; if parts break, you replace them. A consumable. Nothing more, nothing less."
"That is a notion fit for infantry!"
Frederica slammed her hand on the desk. It was an attitude bordering on insubordination, but half her reason had already fled her eyes.
"Tanks sympathize with their crew! They react to the minute pressure of your toes on the accelerator, the snap of your wrist on the control stick! A 0.1 second difference in reaction speed determines whether a shell is deflected or you are penetrated and burned alive!"
She continued, panting.
"And yet you treat it as a consumable? Unit 101 is… a child no different from my own. I cannot tolerate sending her onto the battlefield rattling and clattering!"
"Is that so?"
I fired back coldly.
"It's equipment that every other tank commander rides just fine. I heard you were called the 'youngest' and a 'genius'—so those grand titles were just thanks to the equipment after all?"
"Th-that's insulting…!"
Frederica's face flushed red and blue. I had struck the reverse scale of her fierce pride.
"Or is it a tantrum? Because you're the precious young lady of House Kessel, mass-issued supplies don't suit your body?"
"Lieutenant Colonel!!"
She screamed.
*Status Analysis.*
[*Name: Frederica von Kessel*]
[*Status: Unable to endure her cherished tank being treated as a consumable.*]
[*Emotions: Humiliation, desperation.*]
[*Hidden Desire: To feel that tank in its perfect state once more.*]
Frederica bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. She must have known her demand was an absurd stretch of military law.
But her sensory nerves had already tasted that drug-like maintenance. Now there was only one path left.
Her trembling hand reached into her bosom.
"…If it's off-the-books work."
What she pulled out was a checkbook. A noble-exclusive checkbook with the Imperial Central Bank's seal stamped in gold leaf.
"Please handle it as a private commission."
*Sssrip—*
She tore out a check without hesitation and placed it down on my desk with a smack.
"It's my personal asset. Funds guaranteed by the name of House Kessel."
I glanced sideways at the number written on the check.
'Zeroes… one, two, three, four….'
Insane. It was an amount that could buy a brand-new tank and still have change left over. As expected, the young lady of a noble house was on a different scale.
"It's the cost… to bring that technician here."
A proposal that certainly whetted my appetite. All the more so considering my goal was to live comfortably and accumulate wealth.
But.
*Ssk.*
I pressed the check down with my index finger and slowly slid it back toward her.
"…?"
Frederica's eyes widened into circles.
"Is… is it not enough? If so, please just say so. I'll contact the main house and sell a villa if I must to bring more. So please…"
"Money."
I leaned deep into my chair and smirked.
"Major. What do you take me, or that technician, for? Do you think us street thugs who move for a few measly coins?"
"Th-that's not what I meant! I merely wished to offer proper compensation…"
"That technician is an eccentric. He already has more money than he knows what to do with. The only things that move him are interest, and…"
I fixed my gaze on her.
"Only when there is a connection."
My gaze traveled from her ash-gray hair, down her slender jawline, and lingered around her chest where her uniform buttons strained under the swell.
A sticky, blatant stare.
"Urk…."
Frederica's shoulder flinched. Her clenched fingertips trembled.
"What's wrong? Are you uncomfortable?"
"N-no, sir."
She trailed off and averted her eyes.
*Status Analysis.*
[*Name: Frederica von Kessel*]
[*Status: Suspecting that it is not money, but 'something else' being demanded.*]
[*Emotions: Tension, shame, and a strange anticipation.*]
"Major."
I called out to her, pretending not to notice.
"Calling the technician isn't difficult. But if the price isn't money, what can you pay?"
At my question, Frederica bit her lip tightly. Her hand clenched and unclenched her officer's uniform as if to wrinkle it.
Silence flowed. Her conflict was palpable.
The longing for the perfect tank. And the pride of an elite officer.
In the end, she opened her mouth with a trembling voice.
"Is it… the same as that time?"
"That time?"
"During… the last operation."
She spoke, unable to meet my eyes.
"Inside the turret… what you did to me, Lieutenant Colonel… that, inappropriate contact."
"Inappropriate contact."
I repeated, sounding intrigued.
"Be specific. What did I do?"
"Th-that…!"
Frederica snapped her head up. Her eyes, drenched in shame, glared at me.
"You know! My chest… you touched it recklessly! My thigh, you stroked it…! And even my buttocks… you rubbed that filthy thing against…!"
She couldn't finish and covered her face with her hands.
Soon she opened her mouth again.
"Is that… the price for calling the technician?"
Her face was flushed as if about to burst.
I scoffed.
"Major. You seem to see me as a truly shameless lecher."
"A-aren't you?"
"……."
"Surely you aren't going to claim it was a tactical measure…."
Come to think of it, I had no excuse.
"So."
I decided to just brazen my way through.
"Do you dislike it?"
A chance to take the youngest armored battalion commander. Might as well earn some experience points while I was at it.
"…!"
Frederica's pupils shook at my direct question.
"Ha…."
A dry laugh escaped between her lips.
"Your joke goes too far, Lieutenant Colonel."
She slowly raised her head. Her trembling pupils found their place, then soon settled coldly.
"Selling my body for maintenance? That is something a prostitute would do, not an Imperial Army officer."
Frederica spoke firmly.
"Forgive my discourtesy. I will never come to you with such matters again."
*Slam!*
The office door closed.
I looked at the closed door and smirked.
I wonder how long she'll last.
*
An empty lot on the outskirts of Suasong. The tactical training ground of the 1st Armored Battalion.
"Again!"
Frederica's roar echoed across the training ground. Unit 101 reversed roughly and slammed on the brakes. The heavy vehicle body rattled.
"Turret rotation! Target 2 o'clock! Aim!"
*Weeeng.*
But the turret turned half a beat slower than she thought. The crosshairs in the sight passed over the target slightly before returning.
*Slow.*
Frederica broke into a cold sweat.
During the last battle, when she had been with Max, this maneuver had come as naturally as breathing.
*It worked then. I'm skilled enough to pull it off.*
She bit her lip and shouted at the driver.
"Full speed ahead! Execute zigzag maneuver!"
*Kugugugu!*
Unit 101 kicked up a cloud of dust and surged forward. The 40-ton lump of steel swayed left and right.
"Now! Fire!"
But.
*Kuang—!*
The fired shell grazed past the target scrap vehicle and struck an irrelevant mound of dirt.
"Ah…."
Frederica's mind went blank.
"B-Battalion Commander…?"
The driver's confused voice came over the radio.
"A-are you alright? Your handling is a bit rough today…."
She stuck her head out of the hatch.
She felt the gazes of her subordinates lined up around the parade ground.
*What's with the Battalion Commander?*
*Last time she hit them like a ghost.*
*Is her condition off? Or… was that a fluke?*
"…Damn it."
Frederica's skills themselves were intact. But having grown accustomed to that previous perfect state, an ordinary tank could no longer keep up with her control.
In the end, Frederica's frustration led to her hounding the maintenance crew.
That dawn, in the maintenance area beneath Suasong City Hall.
"M-Major… this is already the fifth time."
A maintenance soldier set down his wrench with a tearful face. His hands were covered in grease, and dark circles filled the undersides of his eyes.
"I matched the regulated torque value exactly! Any tighter and the bolt will break!"
"No. It's still not enough."
Frederica sprang from the commander's seat and rushed into the engine room.
"Here, this intake valve. The clearance is off by about 0.05mm. Every time the engine turns, there's a faint metallic sound mixed in!"
"0.05mm…? Major, please…. That's within the Imperial Army's allowable margin of error. No, even brand-new parts are like that…."
She grabbed the spanner herself.
"Move aside. I'll do it."
*I can do it. Machines are honest. They repay exactly the sweat you pour into them.*
She gritted her teeth and tightened the bolt.
*Kki-gik—.*
The metal screamed.
*Just a little more. Just a little more precisely….*
*Tuk.*
With a dull sound, the bolt head snapped off pathetically.