"So, what did you do as a soldier?"
"What would I do? Just followed orders."
"You said you went to the battlefield. Did you teach those Luzens elves a lesson?"
Teach them a lesson? Our unit was completely wiped out, soul and all.
"..Yeah, I guess we taught them something."
"What? I thought you were a soldier, but you didn't even fight properly?"
"Forget fighting, I just managed to save a few comrades. Happy now?"
Marcus mutters, "How disappointing! I thought you were some hero of reversal or something!"
This guy. The battlefield is such a hellish place. So many people died trying to be heroes!
"Senior, let's stop talking about this. It's very rude to talk about military service in front of someone who just discharged."
"That's rich coming from a noble who enlisted as a common soldier."
"At least I discharged as a non-commissioned officer. I left as a sergeant."
"Big deal. I know someone three years younger than you who's probably a lieutenant by now."
My senior clicks his tongue, finishes his coffee, and says:
"So, why did you come to the instructor's office?"
"I'm facepalming that you're only asking that now."
"The story of the idiot who enlisted as a common soldier was too entertaining."
Argh! Enough! Enough! Stay!
"Actually, I was planning to return to school next year, but my schedule got messed up and I'm returning for the second semester."
"Now that you mention it, that's true. Did you mix up the dates?"
"No, it just somehow ended up this way."
There's another depressingly sad legend hidden here.
I clearly said I would return next year. That's what I said.
And the administration? They immediately approved it.
Yes—not for next year's return, but for this second semester.
What does this mean? That female student who rejected past me, the female lead of the romance fantasy.
She's still at the Academy. In her final semester of her fourth year.
"I thought you might be trying to confess to her again."
"Senior, do you know why they say the pen is mightier than the sword?"
As I say this while grabbing a pen from the desk, my senior immediately surrenders.
Be careful. If you dig up someone's dark past, you become a gangster with no future.
"Anyway, I want to know what classes my peers are taking."
"Hey, even as an instructor, I can't just tell anyone what classes students are taking."
"I'm worried about running into them and making things awkward. Especially with Selena."
"Oh, then I should definitely tell you. Especially about Selena. Wait a moment!"
Selena Frit. The greatest beauty. The female lead of the romance fantasy. And the student who rejected past me.
I absolutely don't want to run into her. I might die of embarrassment.
"But wait, you're not planning to confess to her again if you change your mind, right?"
Hahaha. I immediately grabbed the pen from the desk and stabbed at my senior.
Thankfully, the pen cap was on. Otherwise, I would have been charged with attempted murder.
----
"Your Excellency, here is the list of Medal of Honor recipients."
The Medal of Honor. The highest proof of heroism in the Empire.
From commanders to common soldiers, anyone who receives it earns tremendous respect.
They receive invitations to imperial events, and everyone except the Emperor salutes them first.
Not only the recipients but their families also live with the highest treatment.
But it's proportionally difficult to receive. Brushing with death is just the basic requirement.
You practically need to go to the afterlife, put your arm around the grim reaper, and have a chat with him to even be considered.
"We plan to select one from these four."
"Hmm."
The War Minister looked at the report for a moment and then shook his head.
"No. Give all four of these the Cross of Merit, and redo the Medal of Honor selection."
"Eh? Why? They all have clear military achievements and firm loyalty to the Empire."
"I know. I know, but we need something different. The war is over now."
The department head who brought the report let out an "Ah" of resignation.
"How many people they killed—of course that's important. But the criterion for this Medal of Honor is how many imperial soldiers they saved. That's how we'll decide. Orders from above."
When the War Minister says "above," there's only one place he could mean.
The department head could only respond with a deep sigh.
"But Your Excellency, saving allies is too vague a criterion."
"Most would have done it as part of operations under a commander's orders. I know. I know, but isn't there something? That rumor going around recently—about one soldier saving an entire company?"
"Honestly, that sounds impossible. How could one person save over a hundred?"
"Is that so? Well, I guess that's true."
The War Minister put a cigarette in his mouth.
He lit the cigarette with a quiet click, the flame briefly illuminating his tired face.
"Still," he exhaled slowly, "rumors don't spread without a spark. Find that soldier. Confirm it."
The department head frowned. "Assuming he even exists… where do we start?"
"Battlefield reports. Survivor testimonies. Unit logs." The War Minister tapped the ashtray. "Somewhere in that mess, someone must have written something down."
"But Your Excellency, wartime reports are chaotic. Half of them are incomplete."
"All the more reason to sift through them," he replied. "The Emperor wants a symbol for the end of the war. Someone the people can rally behind."
"A symbolic hero…" the department head muttered. "Even if it's just one man carrying a hundred on his back."
The War Minister nodded. "Reality doesn't matter. What matters is the truth the citizens choose to believe."
Silence fell. Smoke curled upward, filling the office with a faint, bitter scent.
"...Then what should we prioritize?" the department head asked reluctantly.
"Find me someone who actually saved people. Not someone who fought well. Not someone who won battles." His voice hardened. "Someone who stood on the frontline and pulled comrades out of hell."
The department head swallowed, understanding the weight behind those words.
"And if such a soldier doesn't exist?" he asked quietly.
The War Minister stared at the ceiling for a long moment before answering.
"Then…" He flicked his cigarette. "We'll find the closest thing to it."
He leaned back.
"Begin the search immediately."
The department head bowed and hurried out of the office, clutching the list tightly.
Left alone, the War Minister muttered to himself.
"One soldier saving an entire company… If such a man truly exists, then he deserves more than a medal."
He took another drag.
"He deserves a place in history."