A War Hero With No Regrets

6 – People Who Want to Be Forgotten (2)

Bang.

The pleasant night breeze rustles the grass.

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Gray concrete, instead of the garden, was all of Graveyard.

It’s been a long time since I remember seeing the peaceful night sky like this.

It’s understandable, considering that it was an extension of the front line every day.

Luther thought it was quite a different feeling.

“Oh, Captain. Look at this. The moon has risen beautifully.”

“Yes.”

“I want to see the lake too!”

Luther chuckles softly as he gets closer to the guard post, his voice full of persuasion.

Certainly, it was a different scene from the day.

The moon, which has risen brightly, dances on the surface of the water, and the yellow moonflower at the shore blossoms in the wind, swaying gently.

Luther was just silently taking in the scenery.

Even Argent, who was fidgeting nearby, was completely captivated by the scene and didn’t open his mouth anymore.

He thought about it.

The image of children with hair like his wife’s playing at that shore.

He and his son would go fishing to the pond every weekend, and he would make a beautiful vase with his daughter by breaking the moonflower on the day of the full moon.

All of them would be happy.

Without any worries, peacefully.

Just imagining that, Luther unconsciously let out a pleasant laugh.

“Then, Argent, what did we decide about the house?”

Luther turned his head and asked Argent.

But there was no one there.

There was just one tree that grew haphazardly.

Was it a dream too.

As soon as he realized it, the warmth that was felt from his fingertips disappeared.

Even the voice that was making his mind at ease is gradually retreating into the realm of unconsciousness.

The unbearable silence and pain again tightened around Luther’s mind.

His lips are dry.

After all, it’s not like Argent would be by his side now, is it.

Luther took out the cigarette he always carried in his pocket, the harsh one.

It was a makeshift to relieve the stress piled up in the battlefield.

The war was over, but there was no longer a need to smoke.

But what to do about the one that was already in his mouth.

Snap.

A green flame rose from an old metal lighter.

As I lit the cigarette in my mouth, the thick smoke was drawn into my throat.

“Hmm…”

I exhale one breath.

Luthor looks back at the marsh, smoke pouring from his mouth.

The once beautiful landscape is now too lonely to bear.

A waxing moon, without stars, rose in the night sky.

“…”

I can’t forget.

Her smile, her voice, her scent.

And at the same time, her death, the blood, the tears, and the screams mixed with pain.

The voice whispering love was at the moment when Argent’s breath was cut off.

The touch of her hand was the desperate grip that Titus endured torturous interrogation for.

The tears dripping onto the lapel are from Shalotte’s who couldn’t save everyone and berated herself.

The continuous screams are from the countless soldiers and officers who died.

Even after leaving Graveyard, memories of numerous battles clung to me like ghosts.

Being buried in the tomb for so long, it’s not strange for ghosts to cling to me.

Should I just die now?

The building is quite tall even at a glance.

If my head falls off, I’ll die instantly.

But I was also afraid.

What if this curse-like ability activates again?

If I had to face her again before victory, could I endure it?

No, it would be much worse then.

While I’m suffering now, it would be much more unbearable then.

Luthor crushed the cigarette he had finished.

He decided not to regret it.

He should have grabbed her in Graveyard.

At the moment he let go of her hand, he was already crossing a river he couldn’t return from.

Instead, he can light up the cigarette.

Since there’s no one to gossip now, it’s okay.

At that time, another cigarette was in his mouth.

Crack, sss.

The artificial sound of breaking through the forest reached his ears.

Reflexively, he grabbed his fist and took a defensive posture, and the woman who appeared in the rapidly growing forest caught his eye.

“…”

“…?”

She was startled and froze.

It was night, but she was easily recognizable because of the bright moonlight.

A few hours ago, I encountered the survivor of the Poverty Lake.

Carrie Mayven.

Did she also come out to see the moon?

Perhaps she was the one disturbing someone’s peaceful rest.

Rutherus put the smoked cigarette he had smoked back into his pocket.

“I apologize. I didn’t intend to interrupt.”

Even though he was the governor, he was just a stone that had rolled in.

Rutherus Edan didn’t want to interfere much with their daily lives.

However, unlike just crying a little while ago, Carrie Mayven tried to open her mouth while turning her eyes away.

“…Are you the new commander I’ve heard about?”

“It’s similar.”

“Oh… I apologize. I was so busy during the day that…”

Rutherus didn’t add any more words.

He just nodded, reacting as if he understood.

With his hands full of things to do, there’s no room to think about others.

Even though it’s tight, there’s no thought of working hard like a stone that’s been rolling in.

Especially now that the war is over.

“Smokes… fish are okay too… I’m going down now.”

Shh.

When Carrie finally emerged from the forest, her real appearance was completely revealed.

Her appearance, which had been hard to see when she was lying down, was much more serious than I thought.

Her arms, which had been bluntly cut off, and her slumped shoulders.

Her hair, which had been unkempt for a long time, had a damp eye.

I thought she might have injured herself when I saw her gently holding her forearm.

Even in the summer in the northern hemisphere, where the average temperature is low, it was still hot enough to wear a long sleeve.

However, it didn’t really matter.

Her job is her job.

It would be burdensome for her, who is a stranger and doesn’t even know my name or face, to interfere.

Just like I did when I was in her position.

That’s what she thought until she heard the sound of her stomach grumbling.

“…Ah.”

Carrie, blushing or in a hurry, retreated.

Rutherus, who was thinking about whether to take out a cigarette or not, finally put the tobacco pouch back into his pocket.

When he saw the preserved foods she was storing, it was obvious that she hadn’t eaten a proper meal.

“Let’s go down together.”

“Yes…!?”

“I didn’t eat dinner either. But I guess I should eat something, right?”

Rutherus said that and started moving his feet carelessly.

“If you don’t want to come, you don’t have to.”

Carrie hesitated, and eventually followed him reluctantly.

Luther pushed his hips into the waist.

The green apron matched well with the olive green t-shirt he was wearing.

Even though he was now the Minister, he was still a Major General and a current Brigadier, it was a very unusual sight for a Major General to be wearing an apron.

From the Commander to the rank-and-file soldiers.

In Graveyard, where everyone was close like family, it was not an unusual scene. However, Karen was staring at Luther with wide eyes, motionless.

*Just wait a bit. There are no supplies here at all. I can’t even figure out what to cook.*

Although it was said that the highest commander, Arthur Phillias, favored him in many ways, there was a procedure for everything.

For a few days, they could only live with the materials they had.

There were not many people to eat, so there was nothing complicated.

Luther, who wore the apron, searched the shelves in the common kitchen.

Since it was said that the boiler room was operating normally, there would be no problem with gas supply in the basement.

As long as gas was supplied properly and there were the right ingredients, cooking was not a complicated thing for Luther.

The skills that had grown during the 40 years of regression were not only related to combat.

What caught Luther’s eye was dried pasta sheets.

It was not only the typical preserved food, but it was an appropriate ingredient for military rations due to its diverse cooking methods.

Luther took out the pasta sheets and asked Karen.

*Do you like pasta?*

*…Oh, yes, I do.*

*Good.*

There were no other edible ingredients, so it was a tight situation.

Luther nodded and placed a pot filled with water on the stove.

Although there were various ways to use pasta sheets, with only the materials they had, the answer was olive oil pasta.

Cream pasta needed milk and whipping cream, and tomato pasta needed tomato sauce.

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Both cream pasta and tomato pasta needed two ingredients.

The only possible thing was olive oil and garlic, and other basic seasonings, if there were olives and mushroom pasta.

After deciding on the menu, Luther proceeded with the cooking without hesitation.

He put the sheets in the pot and poured olive oil on the large wok.

The thinly sliced garlic, like a salad, was added.

From cutting to stir-frying, Luther’s cooking was as if it was done by a professional chef.

Even Karen, who had no particular skill in cooking, could realize that Luther cooked very well by just watching.

And suddenly, the olive oil, well-cooked sheets, and mushrooms were made into olive oil pasta.

Although it was just a basic form without cheese or bacon, it was enough to satisfy the hunger of Karen, who was filled with food, to make it.

*Ah.*

Karen, chewing her dry rations.

Even though she had followed, she was hesitating whether to eat or not while thinking, and a bowl of pasta was placed in front of her.

*Ah.*

It was a long time since she had seen a proper food.

But Karen didn’t need to think.

*I haven’t had a proper meal for a while. Since now, I’ll prepare meals in advance at this time, so just eat and go.*

She looked at the man in green pants who had hit her with a strange expression.

Was it just dinner together?

As if to prove it, Luterus took the remaining pasta with a wink and said, “If you want to eat here, eat. If you want to take it, eat it too. I’ll eat it in my office, so please leave the remaining utensils on the sink.”

And that was really the end.

Without any other conversation, Luterus left the kitchen with his share of food.

She was looking at the back of the dazed soybean soup.

She carefully picked up the utensil and tasted the pasta.

…

It was a food that tasted good after a few months.

The meal made by the new commander was tastier than I thought.