Judging by Dad's expression, my guess had hit the mark. His jaw tightened, his eyes narrowed sharply. I was certain now—this was a secret operation, possibly even highly classified. So secret, in fact, that he had never imagined his own daughter could uncover it.
His hands clenched into fists on the table, his knuckles turning white. I swallowed hard, waiting for his reaction.
I swallowed again as I looked at his face. His jaw was set, his eyes sharp with scrutiny. I could see the gears turning in his mind, weighing something.
"You..." His voice was low, heavy. "Where did you hear about this?"
I shrugged, trying to sound casual. "I just guessed."
Dad's eyes narrowed even further. "Guessed?" he repeated, skepticism lacing his tone as if he couldn't believe it.
I took a breath and began explaining, keeping my voice light, as though this were nothing unusual. "Normally, when you're granted leave, you stay home for at least three days. But this time, suddenly, you could only stay one night—and you wouldn't say why." I held his gaze. "That alone was suspicious."
Dad remained silent, but his expression shifted slightly. He wasn't just being cautious—he was interested. He was waiting to hear what else I had figured out.
I continued, keeping my tone as even as possible. "Besides that, the soldiers I saw in town seemed gloomy. Their leave had been cut short. That only happens when there's an unscheduled, urgent operation." I leaned forward, locking eyes with him. "And I don't think this is just any operation, is it? You deliberately cut their leave, made your troop movements obvious—pulling forces back in a way that's easy to see. This is all meant to make the Republic of Noirval drop their guard. You want them to believe our front-line units are understrength."
Silence filled the room. Dad didn't answer right away, but the way he looked at me told me he was considering something. I'd seen that look before—the expression of an officer trying to determine whether a leak could still be contained.
"I hope you know what you're doing," he finally said, his voice calmer but still tense. "Because if anyone finds out that you know about this... it could be very dangerous."
I held my breath. "I understand."
He studied me for a long moment before exhaling heavily. "Listen, this isn't something you can play around with. Even if you were just guessing, a guess like that could land you in serious trouble. Never speak of this to anyone. Understood?"
I nodded. "Understood."
Dad kept watching me for a moment, as if weighing his next words. Then he let out a slow breath, the corner of his mouth lifting in a faint, unreadable smile. "As always, Erina, you're sharp," he finally said. "Your assumptions aren't wrong... but they're not entirely right, either."
I narrowed my eyes. "Not entirely right?"
He hesitated, as though debating whether to continue. But at last, in a lower voice, he said, "Alright. Since you've figured out this much, I'll give you a little answer to satisfy your curiosity. But don't ask for more."
I nodded. "Alright."
Dad leaned back slightly in his chair, staring straight ahead as if he were talking more to himself than to me. "The truth is, not a single unit actually returned home this year."
I froze. "...What?"
My first thought was confusion. If no units had been sent home, then—
I blinked, recalling the uniformed men I had seen in town earlier. "Then who were the soldiers I saw?" I asked, my tone now more guarded.
Dad held my gaze before finally answering, his voice barely more than a whisper. "They weren't soldiers. They were political prisoners."
I hadn't expected that answer. Not at all.
"They're Royalists, members of the Workers' Party, Red agents... and anyone else who opposes Erzregen."
A cold sensation crept down my spine. So all those men... the ones I assumed were returning troops... were actually—
I couldn't finish the thought. A sick feeling churned in my gut.
"What's going to happen to them?" I finally asked, my voice quieter than I intended.
Dad just looked at me—silent.
And somehow, that was more terrifying than any answer he could have given.
I frowned. "Even so... is it really a good idea to let them roam around the capital? What if they try to rebel?"
Dad studied me for a moment before replying, his gaze sharp but weighed down by something heavier. "Their families are being held hostage, Erina." His voice was flat, emotionless. And that, more than anything, made his words all the more chilling.
I can only stay still about what he said.
"They have no choice but to obey Erzregen," he continued. "Even if they want to resist in their hearts, they know what will happen if they do." He sighed, his voice softening slightly. "Erina... if you and your mother were held like that, I'd do anything. Even if it meant licking their boots."
His words fell like stones sinking into the abyss—heavy, cold, inescapable. I searched his face for any sign that he was joking or exaggerating, but there was none.
Not a hint of doubt in his voice.
I swallowed hard, a bitter taste spreading in my throat. I knew my father was a soldier—a man who had seen and done things unimaginable in the name of his country. But hearing him say it outright...
I didn't know what was more terrifying.
The fact that he would truly do it.
Or the fact that he had already accepted that reality long ago.
"But it seems the Red agents aren't part of this operation," he said, his tone turning icier. "They're foreigners. We have no leverage over them."
I leaned forward slightly, sensing that he wasn't telling me everything. "Red agents?" I repeated, pressing him. "Who exactly are they, Dad?"
Dad exhaled slowly, then leaned back in his chair. His fingers tapped against the table in a steady rhythm, as if organizing his thoughts before he spoke. "They're operatives sent by the Republic of Novorosskaya," he finally explained. "A nation to the north, bordering the Kingdom of Valdrik. Their goal is singular—to spread the Red ideology."
I frowned. "Red ideology?"
His expression darkened. "The Republic of Novorosskaya is the only country truly governed by the working class. They call themselves the Reds."
A nation led by the workers...?
Shit. That's communism. Pure, textbook communism.
In my past life, I had studied their history—their propaganda. But I never imagined that the same ideology would exist in this world. Was it a coincidence? Or was there some underlying force that had shaped its emergence here too?
I was still lost in thought when Dad's voice broke the silence. "You never read about them in the city's library?"
"No. I've never even found a single book that mentions them."
Dad gave a thin, humorless smile. "That's not an accident. Erzregen doesn't want the 'Red Plague' spreading to the kingdom. He's made sure all traces of them were erased."
He fixed me with a deep, warning stare. "And Erina," he said, his voice dropping into something more serious, more intimidating, "never get yourself involved with that ideology."
I swallowed, feeling a chill creep down my neck.
This wasn't just dislike.
It was fear.
Not just a command, but a dire warning.
And now, I couldn't help but wonder—just how much of a threat did the Reds truly pose in this world?
"Okay, let's end it here. I don't want your mother to wake up and be mad at us."
"…Uh, alright."
There was still so much I wanted to ask, since information like this wasn't easy to come by, especially with the government controlling the flow of news through strict censorship.
"Don't complain. Didn't I already tell you not to ask for more? And Erina, I told you all this not to fuel your curiosity, but to make you stop digging any further. I hope you understand what I mean."
"Alright, Dad."
We both got up and walked quietly through the hallway, careful not to wake Mom. Dad walked me to my room before turning and leaving. I flopped onto my bed, staring at the ceiling as I replayed everything we had just talked about. Slowly, my thoughts blurred, and before I knew it, I had drifted off to sleep.
---
The sky was still a deep shade of blue when I felt a gentle shake rousing me from sleep.
"Erina, wake up," Mom's soft voice called. "Your dad is leaving soon. You should say goodbye."
Still groggy from the late-night conversation with Dad, I let out a muffled groan, reluctant to leave the warmth of my bed. Sleep clung to me like a heavy blanket, urging me to stay. But I knew there was no choice. With a deep sigh, I forced myself up, rubbing my eyes as I sat on the edge of the bed.
The chill of the morning air made me shiver as I straightened my sheets before heading to the bathroom. Splashing cold water onto my face did little to chase away my drowsiness, but it helped enough. I took a few moments to brush my teeth, letting the fresh minty taste wake me up further.
By the time I stepped out, I could already hear the soft clatter of plates and the faint hum of Mom's voice from the dining room. I made my way there, my footsteps quiet against the wooden floor.
The scent of warm bread and freshly brewed tea greeted me as I entered. Mom was at the table, setting down a plate of fruit, while Dad sat at his usual spot, already dressed in his full Royal Army uniform. The sight of him in that crisp, decorated jacket sent a strange feeling through my chest—perhaps a mix of pride and unease.
The breakfast spread was simple but comforting: thick slices of bread with creamy butter, fresh apples and grapes, and a pot of steaming tea for me resting in the center of the table.
"Come sit, Erina," Mom said with a gentle smile. "Eat something before you see your dad off."
I pulled out a chair, glancing at Dad as he silently reached for his coffee. His expression was unreadable, but something about it felt... heavier than usual.
Without hesitation, I pulled out a chair and sat down. The first thing I did, of course, was pour myself a cup of tea from the pot. The warm aroma immediately filled the air, adding a touch of comfort to this cold morning.
Without waiting too long, I blew on the surface of the steaming tea before taking a careful sip. As always, Mom's tea was perfect—not too sweet, not too bitter, just the right balance that left a pleasant warmth in my throat.
"So…" Mom, who had just taken her seat, suddenly spoke. Her eyes flickered with curiosity as she looked at my hand. "What's that bracelet you're wearing?"
I blinked, momentarily forgetting I even had it on.
"Oh, you're right," Dad muttered, following Mom's gaze.
It wasn't just Mom who was curious—Dad, who had been focused on his coffee, now shifted his attention to my wrist as well. He even set his cup down on the table, as if Mom's question had genuinely caught his interest.
Honestly, I was surprised they had only noticed it now. But then again, last night we were all too caught up in the birthday celebration, so maybe it wasn't that strange that they missed it.
I glanced down at the bracelet. Ever since Wilhelm gave it to me, I hadn't taken it off. Somehow, it was more comfortable than I expected.
"Oh, this?" I smiled slightly. "Wilhelm gave it to me yesterday as a birthday present, haha."
As I spoke, I lifted my cup again, taking another sip of the still-warm tea—just enough to chase away the lingering morning chill.
And then, I nearly choked.
"My, my, I didn't realize you two had gotten that close," Mom said teasingly, flashing her usual mischievous smile.
"Erina," Dad added in a much more serious tone, "I think it's still too soon for you."
I nearly dropped my cup onto the table. "Wait, w-what are you even talking about!?"
I set my cup down—perhaps a bit too forcefully—and looked between Mom and Dad, completely baffled.
"What do you mean by 'gotten that close'!?" I demanded, but instead of answering, Mom simply gave me a knowing look.
"Oh, Erina~" Her grin widened, clearly enjoying this. "A bracelet isn't just any gift, is it? I mean, Wilhelm gave you a accesories on your birthday… That's kind of like—hmm, how should I put it—"
I opened my mouth to argue, then shut it again.
Okay… now that she put it that way, giving accesories—even something as simple as a bracelet—did seem like it could hold a deeper meaning.
Shaking my head quickly, I pushed away the strange thoughts forming in my mind. "You're reading too much into it," I said at last. "Wilhelm only gave it to me because… well, he thought it would suit me, that's all."
Mom eyed me with an amused curiosity, while Dad still looked unconvinced.
"And you accepted it without hesitation?" Dad asked.
I blinked. "Of course. It's just a bracelet—"
"Just a bracelet?" Mom rested her chin on her palm, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Too bad Wilhelm isn't here. I wonder how he'd react if he heard you calling his gift 'just a bracelet.'"
I stiffened. "That's not what I meant!"
Mom let out a light chuckle, clearly entertained by my flustered reaction. Dad, on the other hand, simply sighed and returned to his coffee, as if he had already given up on this conversation.
"Anyway! Stop jumping to weird conclusions!" I insisted. "Wilhelm and I are just friends. Nothing more."
But suddenly, a thought popped into my head—Wilhelm and his mother were moving in with his grandfather tomorrow.
Maybe this was the perfect way to change the subject.
"Oh, and actually, this is also kind of a farewell gift," I added quickly. "Besides, why didn't you tell me Wilhelm was moving tomorrow, Mom?"
Mom gave a small, knowing smile. "Because I thought it would be better if he told you himself. It means more coming from him, doesn't it?"
I opened my mouth to argue, but in the end, I just sighed. "…I guess you have a point."
Thankfully, that managed to steer the conversation away from the awkward topic. We continued our breakfast, filling the table with lighthearted chatter about everyday things—things that might seem ordinary to others, but to me… they were precious.
In my past life, I never knew what it was like to have a real family. My childhood was spent under bridges, living as a vagrant with nowhere to belong.
So moments like this—sitting together, talking without fear or distrust—felt new.
And warm.
I glanced at Dad, quietly sipping his coffee, then at Mom, making sure we all had enough to eat.
This… this was nice.
And I didn't want to lose it.
----
The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and winter's lingering chill. As the three of us stepped outside, the golden light of dawn stretched across the sky, breaking through the cold with its gentle glow. Frost clung to the edges of the wooden fence, glistening under the sun's rays, and the quiet hum of the waking world settled around us.
Dad stood before us, his broad frame casting a long shadow on the ground. There was something in his expression—hesitation, worry—but beneath it, I could see the unwavering resolve of a soldier.
"So, I guess this is it," he said, his voice low but firm. "I wish I had more time with both of you."
"…Then why don't you request an extension for your leave?" Mom asked, her voice barely above a whisper, but thick with hope. A fragile hope, one that could be shattered with just a few words.
Dad sighed. "You know better than anyone, Inge. Orders are orders."
"But I heard the Kingdom's relations with Noirval are worsening. What if—"
Déjà vu.
Before she could finish, Dad pulled her into his arms, silencing her with a kiss.
I immediately looked away, my face heating despite the cold. And yet, they didn't stop. It was longer than usual, as if they had forgotten I was standing right there. As if this wasn't just a farewell—but a desperate attempt to hold onto something, even for just a little longer.
When they finally parted, Mom was speechless, her eyes shimmering with unspoken words.
Dad turned to me next, his familiar smile softening his war-hardened features. Without warning, he reached out, ruffling my hair before pulling me into a tight embrace.
The warmth of his arms swallowed me whole, pushing back the bite of winter. It was rare for him to hold me like this. He was always affectionate, always kind, but this—this felt different. It wasn't just a hug. It was a promise. A silent vow.
When he finally pulled away, his hands settled firmly on my shoulders, his grip steady as if trying to anchor me in place.
"Erina, be patient," he said. "I'll be home next year. The year after that. And the one after that. No matter what happens, for as long as life allows, I will keep coming back. So wait for me."
I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded. "I'll always be waiting for you, Dad."
He straightened, taking a step back before turning on his heel. Without another word, he started walking, his figure growing smaller with each step.
We could only stand there, watching him fade into the distance.
At that moment, I didn't realize it.
Didn't realize that this was the beginning of everything.
Because fate is cruel.
Not long after his departure—by the end of winter, to be exact—war erupted.
Felsburg launched a relentless invasion against Noirval, reclaiming Veldenmark in a brutal first strike.
It was the start of what the world would come to call The Great War.