Chapter 78 - The Moon Walking in the Wake of the Sun (4)
The cadets spent the night in the Corps headquarters barracks, but since it was impossible for all 60 cadets to sleep in the officers' quarters, they had to stay in the soldiers' barracks instead.
"Hey, Hartmann, what did you talk about with the Chief of Staff?"
"Did you ask him to go easy on us during training?"
"Can you at least say something to Instructor Kohler? If this keeps up, we're all going to die."
So when Ferdinand tried to slip quietly into the barracks and crawl into bed, he was immediately besieged by a barrage of questions. After all, there were twenty cadets in each room.
"We just talked as family, that's all. Nothing more, nothing less."
"Seriously? Hartmann, you really didn't say anything about Instructor Kohler? Do you have any idea what that lunatic might do next?"
"Yeah! Instructor Kohler's going to kill us all!"
"Grandfather actually liked Instructor Kohler. He said he's full of spirit."
"Oh, no!"
At Ferdinand's words, everyone else fell into despair. Heinz actually liked Thomas! Could it be that Heinz also enjoys watching young cadets suffer, just like some kind of twisted pervert?
Thomas is just a captain, so there are limits to how much he can torment the cadets. But Heinz Hartmann, the Corps Chief of Staff and a brigadier general, could probably find even more creative ways to make their lives miserable.
"Let's all just get some sleep. We have more training tomorrow."
Ferdinand hastily wrapped up the conversation, worried that if he kept talking about his grandfather, the topic might shift to the war. Fortunately, the other cadets, already drowning in despair, had no desire to prolong the painful discussion. They quickly fell silent and tried to sleep.
'I don't know…'
Ferdinand mulled over his grandfather's words.
A sudden sense of dread washed over him, as if the ground had vanished from beneath his feet, and he wondered if things were really going wrong.
"..."
Staring sharply at the pitch-black ceiling, Ferdinand slowly closed his eyes.
Because of what his grandfather had said—"I don't know"—Ferdinand finally felt ready.
It's enough. There's no need to think about what comes next.
He had already made his decision.
Morning came.
Thanks to a proper night's sleep in the barracks' soft, warm beds, the cadets woke up feeling unusually refreshed.
"Oh, wow…"
However, the instructors—most of whom were nearing forty or had already passed that milestone—were now paying the full price for spending several days camping out in the pouring rain.
Strangely enough, after getting a good rest, they felt even worse.
It's no joke when people say they nearly die getting out of bed each morning.
Just sitting up could make them so dizzy they might actually collapse, hit their heads, and die right there.
"Hartmann, step outside."
"Yes, sir."
As Ferdinand was making his bed and getting changed in the morning, an instructor who looked to be in quite a hurry called him out. It was obvious why he'd been summoned.
"If the Chief of Staff dotes on his grandson so much, couldn't he do something about Instructor Kohler…?"
"Just stop… It's pointless…"
There was no doubt that Heinz was the one who'd called him. Ferdinand had nearly begged him not to, and Mark had tried persuading him as well, but neither had been able to stop Heinz's overflowing love for his grandson.
"..."
Even so, there wasn't a hint of complaint, embarrassment, annoyance, or anger on Ferdinand's face. He quietly followed the instructor with a calm expression. As he stood in front of the room where his grandfather awaited, Ferdinand straightened his uniform as any officer cadet would before meeting the Corps Chief of Staff.
"Whew!"
After firmly smoothing down his closely-cropped hair one last time, Ferdinand let out a deep, determined breath. Narrowing his brown eyes—still tense and flickering with fear, as if dazzled by the light—he reached for the doorknob.
However, when he opened the door, Ferdinand shook off all his tension and fear, greeting his respected grandfather with confidence—a truly spirited, manly presence.
***
"So, what's the training today?"
"How should I know?"
"I've been thinking seriously, and I think we should be done with camping by now. We've done more than enough, right?"
"That's just what you think…"
"Why! I've had a lot of training as an officer cadet too! My opinion's based on solid grounds, I tell you!"
"I doubt Instructor Kohler would see it that way…"
"Why… why…"
Ignoring Robert's whining and despair about having to leave the comfort of the Corps Headquarters barracks and return to training, Ernest resumed eating.
Robert also knew that once Ernest started eating, it was hard to get an answer out of him, so he didn't press the matter further.
He kept grumbling to himself and occasionally tried talking to another cadet, which was a bit distracting.
'Ferdinand's not here.'
Even while eating, Ernest was carefully observing the dining hall and quickly noticed that Ferdinand was missing.
Of course, it would be impossible not to notice that big guy is missing.
'Is he eating separately? But the Chief of Staff didn't seem like that kind of person.'
Ernest felt a bit confused.
He didn't think Heinz would give Ferdinand any special treatment.
It was hard to imagine that the upright Heinz Hartmann, whom Ferdinand respected so deeply, would prepare a special breakfast just for his eldest grandson—especially in the middle of Military Academy training.
—!
As the cadets chatted softly and ate in the dining hall, a thunderous sound suddenly rang out.
Everyone froze in shock.
The officers, too—if anything, the Corps Headquarters officers seemed even more startled.
A stifling silence hung in the air, broken a moment later by another thunderclap that tore through the building.
That's when the cadets realized the sound was actually the voice of Heinz Hartmann, Chief of Staff of the 2nd Corps.
They couldn't make out what Heinz was saying.
His naturally low voice echoed around the building, bouncing off the walls. And he sounded so agitated that his words were hard to catch.
...
After Heinz's bellowing reverberated through the entire building, an eerie silence settled over the room.
'Ferdinand.'
Ernest realized that this silence would soon be filled by Ferdinand's voice.
A few sharp-eyed cadets also realized this, but none could figure out exactly what Ferdinand—the exemplary officer cadet, soldier, potential future commander, and beloved grandson of Brigadier General Heinz—could have possibly said to make Heinz so furious. Confusion swept through the room.
After a brief silence, Heinz's voice rang out again. He sounded even more agitated this time—almost as if he were shouting in anguish.
And then, cutting through that voice, a powerful shout echoed through the building. It was unmistakably a boy's voice, but with the force of a man—a voice so similar to his grandfather's that it could have been mistaken for Heinz himself.
Yet just like before, Ferdinand's words were impossible to make out. Then silence returned once more. In that suffocating quiet, nobody in the dining hall dared to breathe. No one so much as lifted their utensils; eating was out of the question in this atmosphere.
"Go on, finish your meal."
In the midst of it all, Thomas's calm voice sounded almost unnaturally loud.
"Don't assume the day's training will be easy enough to get by on an empty stomach."
After finishing, Thomas began eating again, shoveling food into his mouth with mechanical indifference.
Following his lead, the others hesitantly resumed their meals, though all their attention remained fixed on Ferdinand and Heinz.
So it was only natural that when the dining hall door opened, every eye in the awkwardly subdued room turned in that direction.
Step. Step. Step...
Ferdinand strode into the dining hall with a calm expression, took his meal, and sat down at an empty spot.
Ferdinand himself seemed composed, but those who caught sight of his face couldn't help but be startled.
"Ha, Hartmann..."
"Enough."
When a peer called out to him in a trembling voice, Ferdinand replied curtly, his pronunciation just a bit off.
He then opened his mouth to eat, but winced slightly as his split lip and swollen left cheek protested, only to resume eating as if nothing had happened.
Whatever Ferdinand had said, Heinz had lost his composure to such a degree that he struck his beloved grandson across the face.
Just one slap.
It happened so impulsively that even Heinz himself was startled and pulled his strength back at the last moment.
But Heinz was so strong that the blow sent Ferdinand's head snapping to the side and knocked him to the floor.
It was a blessing Mark hadn't been there. If Mark had tried to stop Heinz and gotten hit instead, he would've passed out on the spot and probably been bedridden for at least five days.
"Ferdinand."
In the heavy, suffocating air, Ernest called Ferdinand's name in a quiet voice.
Ferdinand looked over at him.
The two boys fell silent, exchanging a long, searching look.
Ernest's eyes quivered and twisted with what seemed like pain.
Ernest felt himself remembering something from what now seemed a distant past. That day, when they were at the Training Ground late in the evening for Robert's shooting practice—he recalled his conversation with Ferdinand then.
"Is this because of me?"
"It's thanks to you."
At Ernest's question, Ferdinand answered in his usual, calm voice.
Then he calmly resumed his meal.
A brief exchange, impossible for anyone but the two involved to understand.
That day, Ernest had asked Ferdinand:
Could you obey an order, even knowing it would mean your own death?
Ferdinand had answered yes, without hesitation.
But the next question that Ernest posed, Ferdinand couldn't answer.
Then could your grandfather give you an order, knowing it would mean your death?
Unable to answer that, Ferdinand realized something he hadn't faced before: deep down, he'd always assumed that after graduation he would serve under his grandfather at the safe Corps Headquarters.
He'd only ever imagined himself sitting at the rear, issuing orders and watching others carry them out—even if those orders sent men to their deaths—without ever really being willing to risk his own life.
Looking back on how polished his words had been compared to his true intentions, he was struck by a tremendous shock.
And after much reflection, he came to a decision.
Ferdinand openly stood up to the grandfather he respected, who wanted to bring him to the Corps Headquarters and protect him, declaring that after graduating from the Academy, he would not go to Headquarters but instead join a combat unit on the front lines to become a field commander.
Heinz had thundered at him, his temper exploding, and in the heat of the moment had even slapped Ferdinand, but Ferdinand still loved and respected his grandfather.
Heinz had never, not once in his life, raised a hand to his children or grandchildren.
But when Ferdinand said he would become a field commander, Heinz became so worried, so afraid of losing him, that for the first time he lost control of himself.
Heinz understood the fear of war all too well.
He tried desperately to convince his iron-willed grandson, even to the point of tearing up and begging him not to do it.
But Ferdinand had already steeled his heart and made his decision.
He had become the man of resolve that Heinz had always hoped he'd be, and because of that, Heinz could not change his mind.
If Heinz really wanted to stop Ferdinand, he would have to break him completely.
And Heinz simply could not bring himself to shatter the grandson he cherished.
Ferdinand Hartmann would become a mere platoon leader assigned to the front lines after graduation.
And this was a decision he could make only because he had received a sharp rebuke from Ernest, whose tongue was as cursed as ever.
"But don't go thinking you're the reason for everything, Ernest. I would have made the same choice even without you."
To be more precise, thanks to Ernest, he was able to prepare himself and make the decision earlier.
Ferdinand let out a faint smile through his split lips.
That's the kind of person Ferdinand Hartmann was—a man who could stand up to his revered grandfather and push through with his own will.
Even without Ernest's words, that unyielding determination and spirit would have led Ferdinand to realize for himself, "This isn't right," and to defy Heinz.
"…Yeah."
Ernest looked at Ferdinand for a long moment before replying quietly, then resumed eating in silence.
Ferdinand never told anyone what he and his grandfather had talked about.
As a result, Ernest was the only one who could truly understand his resolve and his decision.
Ferdinand, his face a mess from the slap he had received from his grandfather, seemed to smile with a sense of relief.
"From now, we march to the campsite."
"…."
"Alright, I know exactly what you're thinking. You're wondering why officers have to march on foot at all."
Thomas spoke as he looked at the cadets, all of them wearing military packs and raincoats in the pouring rain.
"If the car is destroyed, or the horse dies, or you're somewhere cars and horses can't go—are you just going to stand around and watch?"
The cadets didn't answer with words, but their faces said it all. Thomas glanced over at Ferdinand, whose cheeks were even more swollen than they had been at breakfast, and gave a sly smile.
"If you fall behind, that's it. From then on, you're out—you'll get to lounge around and eat well here at the 2nd Corps Headquarters until it's time to return."
As awful as it was, the cadets had willingly decided that taking the harder route was better than choosing the easy one.
If even the inexperienced Ernest could get Marie to study on her own, there's no way an excellent instructor like Thomas couldn't push his cadets to voluntarily endure training that bordered on torture.
"We leave now!"
Thomas shouted in a booming voice, gave a quick glance at the similarly miserable-looking instructors, then strode off decisively.
Perhaps marching in the rain was far too harsh for second-year cadets who were only fifteen years old.
But they were all basically fit, their military packs were lightweight, they weren't carrying those damned, cursed rifles, and they'd be stopping in villages or towns along the way to rest plenty—so as long as they didn't give up, they could absolutely manage.
Thomas isn't an idiot demanding the impossible from his cadets.
He simply gives them the toughest training he knows they can succeed at.
"Damn it…"
Wilfried, whose physical abilities were nothing special, muttered curses under his breath, drowned out by the sound of rain, and began trudging forward with determination.
Thomas's training had succeeded in planting a stubborn, desperate resolve in the pampered noble young masters who had once been like the flowers of the garden.
Even if one of them collapsed from exhaustion along the way, not a single one would ever admit defeat or say out loud that they wanted to quit.
The second-year cadets of the Imperial Military Academy, led by Thomas and the other instructors, quickly left the Corps Headquarters—and soon after, the City of Ruybern itself was behind them.
At the front and rear of the marching column, transport vehicles were moving slowly.
The cadets had no idea, but inside those trucks sat soldiers armed with Balt Guns, ready to protect them in case anything went wrong.
Sixty second-year cadets from the Imperial Military Academy were marching through areas near the border.
If the Kingdom of Belliang was truly determined to provoke war, and if they had succeeded in sneaking a small guerrilla unit across the border, these marching cadets would be perfect prey—ripe for ambush and annihilation, the kind of prize an enemy would attack with a smile.
To protect them, a reconnaissance unit was sent out ahead of time to confirm the area was safe, and even now, they continued patrolling some distance away, constantly checking the surroundings.
Not just Chief of Staff Heinz but the entire 2nd Corps—including the Corps Commander—were on high alert.
Even if Belliang didn't attack, someone hoping to ignite war could carry out a raid and blame it on Belliang, setting political fires and fanning the flames of conflict.
"Huff! Huff! Huff!"
The Imperial Military Academy group trudged on in silence through the rain.
They had already walked a considerable distance, yet all they could see in every direction was empty, endless plain.
This land had once been ruled by the Kingdom of Belliang.
And the defining geographical feature of Belliang was nothing other than these vast plains.
During the War of Conquest, Belliang fought the Mihahil Empire here—on these plains—and suffered a bitter, crushing defeat.
Belliang, proud of its powerful cavalry and with a reputation as a military powerhouse, had never imagined that their famed horsemen would be laid low so easily by the Balt Gun.
At that time, powder guns weren't even recognized as legitimate weapons of war—they were dismissed as toys for nobles or simply for personal defense.
But by facing Mihahil overconfidently and losing, Belliang had to pay the price: in a single disastrous battle, they lost a staggering stretch of plains.
With so little forest or mountain terrain, they had no way to block Mihahil's advance.
Having lost a full fifth of their territory in just that one defeat, Belliang immediately gave up on conventional cavalry tactics and retreated into the few forests and mountains they had, fighting back against Mihahil with everything they had left.
They set aside their pride and everything else, even going so far as to request aid from neighboring countries.
Thanks to this, Belliang managed to endure until the end of the war.
However, after the war, the price of several unfavorable treaties left their position precarious.
"This road never ends...!"
Of course, the cadets couldn't have cared less about such historical context right now—the only thing that mattered was the seemingly endless plain stretching out before them, which filled them with dread.
Every time they looked toward the unending expanse, the cadets felt their spirits falter.
This land, after the monsoon season, was sown entirely with wheat, serving as the Empire's top breadbasket and feeding people across the realm.
But to the cadets at this moment, it just felt like hell.
Thomas kept looking back, adjusting the pace.
Noticing how exhausted the cadets were, he shouted loudly to motivate them.
"You're ready to give up already when we're just getting started? If you go a little farther, you'll reach a village! If you really want to quit, wait until then! If you drop out on the road, it'll be a hassle to haul you!"
Honestly, it was more of a provocation than encouragement, but it didn't matter—as long as it gave the cadets some energy.
Thankfully, after more walking, they finally reached a village.
At a glance, it looked like just another stretch of endless plain, but in reality, a series of gentle hills kept visibility surprisingly low.
"Dry your feet and change into dry socks! If your boots are soaked, don't try to tough it out—just be honest and speak up!"
The cadets took over a building in the village, sitting down and following the instructor's orders to dry their feet.
Those whose boots had become completely wet were issued new ones.
The new boots would be stiff and likely painful, but they were far better than soaked ones.
The cadets were given jerky and dried fruit, and they ravenously devoured everything.
The villagers looked a bit uneasy as the soldiers even brought transport vehicles and took over their village.
However, no one said a word—they all remained extremely cooperative.
First off, they were generously compensated with money and food for their trouble.
And since the 2nd Corps treated civilians in a rather restrained manner, there wasn't much fear of the soldiers.
After a brief rest, the march began anew.
Strangely, even though they had rested, it felt even harder than before. The cadets who were slower to develop started to drag their feet, and the makeshift military packs on their backs felt as heavy as carrying another person.
"Gasp! Hah! Huff! Phew!"
Even for the fitter cadets, this was tough—so for someone frail like Wilfried, it was almost impossible to endure.
If only it weren't raining, this would be a bit more manageable, but the raincoat clinging to his body was about to drive him mad.
"Ah!"
As he trudged along, Wilfried suddenly exclaimed in surprise.
The pack that had felt impossibly heavy was suddenly much lighter.
Startled, he looked back to see a burly Military Faction cadet, clearly exhausted himself, grinning broadly. With one hand, the cadet was lifting up the bottom of Wilfried's pack.
"Wilfried, you owe me one. Don't forget it."
"Huff… Huff… Yeah, I got it… Thanks."
He might say he expects something in return, but he won't actually ask for anything. This was a pure act of kindness. Wilfried decided not to refuse the gesture and accepted the help. He couldn't afford to fall behind here.
Instead, he could give a small token of thanks to his friend later, since he obviously wouldn't ask for repayment.
It wasn't just that the weight of the pack had lessened—Wilfried felt as if some unknown force was pushing him forward, giving him strength. He smiled softly.
Ever since Thomas' stern words during their first time setting up the tent for camping, the Second Years hadn't hesitated to make small sacrifices for each other. No one had to say anything; everyone just instinctively helped out when someone was struggling.
Ferdinand was carrying the packs of two other cadets, and Ernest had taken on an extra pack himself.
"E-Ernest…! I'm really struggling…! Can you carry my pack…?"
"Robert, since you still have plenty of breath to complain, I don't think I need to carry your pack anytime soon."
"Oh, come on! Help me out too!"
"See? You've still got plenty of energy."
"Aaaargh! Fine! I have plenty of energy!"
"Jimman, keep quiet and walk."
"Yes, sir."
After letting out a loud wail and receiving a warning from the instructor, Robert quietly fell in line.
'Good thing I reduced the dosage of Tonic.'
Ernest felt deeply relieved.
If he were still taking a whole tablet of tonic at a time, he might have collapsed already. He checked the number of tonic tablets in his pack, safely wrapped in clothes, and determined that there were more than enough. He was glad he'd brought plenty.
"We'll spend the night here. Good work, everyone. Don't stay up chatting—get to sleep quickly. We'll be up before dawn to start marching again."
The cadets supported each other and kept walking without stopping, and fortunately, not a single person fell behind on the first day of the march.
Even if Thomas hadn't said anything, they would have slept like rocks. But with another march starting before dawn tomorrow, nobody would dare stay up chatting through the night with their eyes wide open.
"Wake up! Wake up!"
"Ugh!"
Everyone had just rested their heads and blinked once, and suddenly, the instructors were shaking them awake.
"Hurry up and get up!"
"Uh... Isn't it still night? It looks dark outside..."
"Pull yourself together! The sun will be up soon!"
"This can't be happening..."
It felt as if they'd only blinked, and it was already dawn—as if someone had stolen the whole night. Everyone, utterly exhausted, stumbled around but followed orders, ate breakfast, and got themselves ready to march once again.
By the second day, even the cadets in good shape were so tired they barely had any energy left to help others. And yet, Ferdinand was somehow carrying three extra military packs—more than yesterday—and Ernest had taken on one extra pack as well. But for most, just carrying their own pack was overwhelming, and finally, some began to reach their limits.
"Huff! "Huff! Huff!"
"Give it to me."
"I—I can do it!"
"I'm just asking for your pack."
"…What?"
As things reached this point, the instructors began to take the military packs from the cadets who'd reached their limit and tossed them into the transport vehicle.
"Don't give up—keep walking! You can still go on!"
"Yes, sir!"
The cadets who'd been relieved of their packs pushed themselves even harder.
After all, having already given up their pack, they couldn't bear to quit here and lose face in front of their peers. The instructors didn't take away the packs from those who were carrying extra for their fellow cadets, nor did those cadets ask to have them loaded onto the transport vehicle.
Most of the cadets had no idea how far they'd walked—because all they could do was keep their eyes fixed on the path ahead and press on.
However, Ernest and Ferdinand, who still had some energy to spare, realized that the group had already walked farther than they'd imagined.
"How much longer do you think we have?"
Ernest steadied his breathing and asked Ferdinand
"At this pace, we'll reach our destination by tomorrow morning."
Ferdinand's breathing was only slightly heavier than usual. His physique was already developed enough for him to march in the rain carrying not only a full official military pack but also a rifle, not just the lightweight field kit.
Carrying four light packs filled with just clothes was hardly even a challenge for him.
"The pace is only going to keep slowing down, so we might not get there until tomorrow evening."
Ernest was well aware the march was getting slower and slower. By tomorrow, the pace would be even worse. Even now, some of the cadets could barely keep moving—they were practically crawling forward.
"You're probably right."
Ferdinand agreed calmly. For someone who had scared the cadets as much as he had, Thomas was actually being quite generous. It seemed he really planned to bring every single cadet along, without leaving anyone behind.
The march kept getting slower, and before long, the column could barely move at all.
The rear was constantly hesitating, waiting a long time for the people ahead to advance a few steps before taking a few halting steps themselves, only to stop again.
"Just a bit more! We'll spend the night in the village up ahead!"
As Ernest and Ferdinand had predicted, Thomas decided to stop for the night in a village where they were only supposed to take a short break. It would still be a long while before evening.
That announcement gave the cadets a final burst of energy, and they started moving again.
Even those on the verge of collapse kept going, some supported by their friends, but no one dared to say they wanted to quit
"If you fall asleep like this, your feet will swell up and the skin will peel right off."
The instructors roused the sprawled-out cadets, made them change their clothes, and wash themselves. Then, after feeding them a full meal, they finally let them sleep.
Patter… pat, pat…
Now that they were near the border, the rain had eased up a lot. Though Ernest was tired, it wasn't enough to fall asleep this early. Unlike his peers, who threw aside all sense of dignity and were snoring away, Ernest listened to the fading rain and let time pass.
"..."
When the rain finally stopped completely, Ernest quietly sat up without making a sound.
He slipped out of the room.
"Where are you going?"
Without taking a break, Thomas had been checking on the cadets' condition and immediately spotted Ernest.
After a brief hesitation, Ernest answered, looking a bit sheepish.
"I'm going to the bathroom."
"..."
Thomas quietly looked into Ernest's eyes.
"Don't try anything foolish and come back right away."
It wasn't just permission to use the bathroom—he was allowing this curious boy to carefully look around a place he was visiting for the first time in his life.
"Yes, sir."
Ernest quickly left the building.
Then, after the rain had stopped, Ernest filled his lungs with the air thick with mist and cautiously took a few steps while looking up at the gradually darkening sky.
Truthfully, Ernest couldn't quite understand why he was doing this right now.
Normally, he'd just be quietly resting in his room.
And why had Thomas let him go, even though he clearly saw through Ernest's lie?
Because of the ongoing rain, it wasn't possible to start any farming, and the soldiers and officer cadets who were supposed to just stop by for a short while had decided to spend the whole night here.
The people of this small village were behaving very cautiously, and they hardly came out of their homes.
Since this land originally belonged to Belliang, there were still many Belliang people left in this village. The closer you got to the border, the more villages like this you'd find. Among those living in the Border Region, the fear of soldiers ran deep.
That's why Ernest felt a strange sense of being utterly alone in this wide world. It was a village where people clearly lived, yet there were no signs of anyone, and not a single voice could be heard.
Snort.
As Ernest wandered, peering around, he caught a familiar sound and moved toward it. At the edge of the village, behind one of the buildings, in a secluded spot—was that really the sound of a horse pawing the ground?
He quietly approached, and to his surprise, actually found a horse. This wasn't a road or a stable, but here was a horse, stranded alone in the mire created by the rain, restlessly stamping with frustration.
"Hello."
Ernest glanced around, then whispered softly to the horse, left alone in this strange place.
The irritated horse startled, fixed its gaze on Ernest, and instantly froze.
After a moment, the horse cautiously stepped through the muddy ground toward Ernest and, as if it were the most natural thing, calmly accepted his touch.
Ernest stroked the horse's nose and neck, checking its saddle and the packs strapped to it.
"At least two people," he thought.
By looking at the packs on the horse's back, Ernest realized they were meant for at least two people. Someone had prepared to leave with the horse and, strangely enough, had left it here all alone and disappeared.
"Hmm…"
Ernest hesitated, unsure what to do about the horse, which had started licking his hair. Of course, he couldn't just take it with him. But leaving it behind—this whole situation was simply too odd.
"Where's your friend, huh?"
At his question, the horse tilted its head and nuzzled Ernest's face—a very eager display of affection.
"I'd like to take you with me too, but…"
"Hey."
Just as Ernest was whispering to the horse, a voice laced with a sigh quietly called out.
Completely unaware that someone was approaching, Ernest jumped and spun around in surprise.
A girl, crouched in the shadowy corner of the building, was looking up at him with a face full of dissatisfaction.
It seemed she'd been sitting there even before Ernest arrived.
"Trying to steal someone else's horse, huh? You're nastier than you look."
The girl twirled the ends of her rain-soaked, light brown hair between her fingers as she spoke.
Her voice carried a touch of mischief, her expression one of sulking.
Yet those clear and gentle turquoise eyes gazed steadily at Ernest, curved with an enigmatic smile.
Ernest found those eyes oddly unsettling, though he couldn't say why.
Perhaps it was because he had never, not even once in his life, received a look like that.