Ricardo went down to the office with Ska.

“If you don’t want to go to the hospital wing, at least take a shower.”

His longtime friend nagged as they descended.

Ricardo didn’t argue. He had to wash anyway if he was going to write the report. He wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible, finish the paperwork, and close the mission.

He also needed to check on the rookies’ condition.

“When you finish the report, I’ll finally go home too.”

Ska muttered as he stepped off on the floor where the upper executive offices were.

“When you’re done, come up. Let’s head out together.”

Ricardo followed his words.

After washing up in the common showers, he went straight to the PC. Fortunately, the report office was empty. He didn’t have the energy for any conversation right now.

He quickly sat down, wrote his report, and headed to the executive office.

Luckily, only Ska was there.

The aide-de-camp gestured for him to sit and wait.

Ricardo slumped onto the guest sofa.

“Asil will be fine.”

Ska delivered the news without even lifting his head from the desk.

“He’ll have a rough time for a while, but they say there won’t be any aftereffects.”

“Ahh...”

Ricardo exhaled a long sigh.

He swallowed the faint relief that rose within him. Defeat, shame, worry—all sorts of negative emotions had been clinging to him, so hearing even one piece of good news made it a little easier to breathe.

As for Bobby, there was no way her situation would improve.

“They said Bobby’s holding up better than expected, too.”

There was no need for Ska to say it, but he was always thoughtful like that.

That quiet, natural sense of consideration hadn’t changed even after gaining power.

“She wants to keep working on the field. She’ll struggle with phantom pain for a while, but eventually she’ll adapt. The tech’s improved a lot.”

“Well~... Let’s hope so~.”

He didn’t have the right to add more.

Bobby Winter had been his responsibility too. From now on, every time he saw her leg, sharp self-loathing would scrape at his chest.

He gave a brief reply and fell silent, letting the quiet return.

Ricardo stared across the spacious office, sinking into the stillness.

Dawn.

Only those on night duty and a few working overtime remained. The mission should have ended before midnight, yet even though he wasn’t assigned to a night shift, he found himself watching the clock inch toward three in the morning.

In this place that had never felt comfortable, he once again replayed what had gone wrong.

Then Ska looked up.

“You okay?”

“Fit as ever~.”

The aide-de-camp snorted softly.

Ricardo smiled faintly. He knew Ska wasn’t asking about his body. But he had no intention of speaking honestly about his state of mind.

Knowing that pressing further would bring no answer, Ska sighed.

“Hilde’s getting a chest tube inserted, they say.”

Ricardo’s brow furrowed.

The smile he wore by habit vanished completely. He looked straight at Ska.

“Why?”

“Fractured rib. Damaged thoracic wall. His healing ability’s better than average, so he’ll recover fine.”

“Ha.”

Ricardo let out a hollow laugh.

He should have stopped him from following into the arena. He had looked fine on the outside, so Ricardo had reluctantly allowed it—but who could have known that the rookie had been enduring pain behind that calm face?

No, he should have known.

He frowned, recalling their conversation in the narrow passage.

The rookie had laughed, saying he was completely wrong.

At that moment, he hadn’t looked like a green recruit at all, but like a battle-worn veteran tired of life.

“And besides that~?”

“Other than the hemothorax? Haven’t gotten a detailed report. Since they only mentioned the ribs, I guess the rest is fine.”

“He was pumped full of drugs though...”

The memory made Ricardo’s mood sour instantly.

“Don’t think he’s the type to mention that himself~?”

“Ah.”

Ska made a short sound.

“I’ll pass it along.”

Ricardo fell silent again.

The memory of the prison incident stirred something unpleasant inside him. The image of that white-haired rookie crouched in the corner, groaning quietly, was still vivid. In the middle of that chaos, he had rolled away from the others to keep the civilians safe.

At the time, Ricardo had wondered what to do with such a reckless but kind idiot.

Only now did he realize how much pain the kid must have been in. Even with cracked ribs, he had run around with a clean face—yet in that cell he had been pressing his head against the floor, clawing at it.

That fool had no idea how to take care of himself.

Lost in regret, Ricardo looked up when Ska stepped out from behind the desk.

“Made you wait long enough. Let’s go home.”

“Ska.”

Ska stopped.

The office was soundproofed; Yehyeon and his second aide, Gilbert, were absent; Ska had dropped his usual formality. Ricardo looked at his friend.

He wasn’t going to waste this timing.

“What is Hilde?”

Ska didn’t answer.

“How did he fall out of the Portal?”

“Who knows.”

“I suppose that’s not the important part, huh...”

Ricardo wasn’t stupid. He knew Hilde wasn’t an ordinary man.

From the first meeting to now, nothing about him had been normal. That strange enhanced body, the Commander’s peculiar reaction, the unprecedented assignment of a mentor.

And those golden eyes—like a sun you’d never see in nature.

Yet the kid thought of himself as just another rookie.

“He said some memories are coming back...”

“...He told you that himself?”

“Sort of. I just heard he remembered a few things~.”

Until now, Ricardo hadn’t cared.

He hadn’t wanted to know too much. He was old enough to understand that sometimes ignorance was mercy. He had been curious how Hilde came out of the Portal, and fond enough to bring him along on missions, but not enough to pry into his past.

Unless Hilde got himself a stable enhanced body—he could die anytime. That was why, even when curiosity burned, when he felt the urge to drag along that pure, determined fool, Ricardo had forced himself not to care too much.

He remembered that stormy day when Hilde had run straight into the tempest, wounds unhealed.

He’d taught him well, but told himself not to grow attached like to his comrades.

And yet...

“When he remembers, hear it from him directly.”

Ska’s voice snapped him out of thought.

“That’s the surest way.”

“Ah~ so you’re saying you’ve got no clearance to tell me~.”

“It’s personal.”

Even at three in the morning, Ska looked immaculate, like he’d just clocked in. He sighed.

“And I don’t know all the details myself.”

“He said he’s not someone worth trusting...”

Ricardo still didn’t believe Hilde’s words.

Especially now, he couldn’t. Shouldn’t you only believe what’s actually believable?

“He said he thinks he’s too good a person... Sounds like some kind of war or disaster survivor complex to me. Keeps showing that survivor’s guilt.”

“The rookie said that?”

“Something like that~.”

“So his condition’s worse than I thought.”

Ska approached the sofa, frowning.

He shoved both hands into his pockets.

“Didn’t realize he’s festering inside too, like you. I should tell the Personnel Director.”

“Why drag me into this~?”

“You still look for your revolver sometimes, don’t you?”

Ska smiled wryly down at him.

“You probably bought new bullets for it again. How long do they even keep making those?”

Ricardo didn’t answer.

In his living room was a three-tier drawer. Inside the first drawer lay an old revolver—ancient, really. It amazed him that the bullets were still being manufactured.

It had belonged to his father.

The man had always kept it close. Even when he died, crushed under a collapsing building, he hadn’t let it go. Ricardo had found it beside that flattened, unrecognizable corpse—still perfectly intact—and had kept it ever since.

Sometimes he took it out.

On cold nights.

On nights when the images came back—his little brother’s eyes looking up at him from the rubble, his mother’s torn skirt, his father’s body. He would pull out a chair, sit at the table, spin the revolver’s cylinder, and stare into the barrel for a long time.

The impulse was always strong.

Jonathan Kudo and Ska Owen would throw away the bullets whenever they visited his house.

But still...

“That kid doesn’t seem like he’d kill himself.”

Ricardo murmured.

“He might not take care of himself, but...”

“Yeah?”

Something brightened in Ska’s tone.

Ricardo nodded slowly.

He was probably right.

He had known many who survived the war only to choose the worst end later. And he knew others who lived forever at that brink. He’d developed an unwelcome talent for sensing that atmosphere.

That faint, dangerous fragility.

Hildebert didn’t have it.

“I heard he doesn’t take care of himself.”

“He doesn’t, when he’s with others. But on his own...”

That kid had something else—something like resolve.

A resolve to face the pain that came with self-loathing. A determination not to drown in emotion and throw everything away.

“Now I see why you’ve got your eye on him as a successor to the leadership.”

Maybe the heroes of myth had been like that.

“He’s got the heart of a great leader.”

“That’s true.”

Ska gave a faint smile.

“His temperament, at least. The ideal kind of leader. The ability part’s another story.”

“The problem is that rookie keeps that attitude all the time~.”

Ricardo tilted his head back, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling.

That kid never looked at his own wounds—always someone else’s. He erased his own self and focused on others.

Even when he was hyperventilating, he’d exposed his own weakness just to calm the others down.

For a rookie.

“But he needs to learn to show when he’s hurt.”

At Ska’s words, Ricardo lowered his head again.

“He mustn’t die young.”

Heh.

So there really is something.

Ricardo picked up the nuance. Ska wasn’t speaking as Hildebert’s superior or comrade now. He was speaking as part of the Black Badger leadership—officially.

As someone responsible for winning this strange war.

“I’ll drop by the hospital wing on my way down. You coming?”

“Of course~.”

He figured Ska wouldn’t answer his questions anyway—so he’d check for himself.

“Gotta pick the right time to beat him up~.”

He smiled brightly as he stood.

Ignoring Ska’s muttered “Don’t overdo it,” Ricardo followed his friend out.

Silently, he made up his mind. He’d keep watching that strange rookie. Teach him how to show pain, how to act like the youngest, and someday learn what kind of past he was hiding.

And he’d warn the other Badgers who worked with Hildebert—

That fool only sees others, so someone has to see him.

Thinking he was lucky to have enough seniority to issue such a warning, Ricardo headed to the hospital wing.

***

“Oh.”

I blinked when I saw Ricardo and Ska.

“Still here?”

You didn’t go home?

As the men approached my bed, I blinked several more times. I couldn’t believe the senior hadn’t gone home yet.

It was nearly dawn.

Maybe they’d been delayed visiting Asil and Bobby’s wards?

I’d heard both were in /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ better shape than expected. Maybe they’d stayed to talk—or something else had come up.

Either way, seeing that the senior still hadn’t gone home made me uneasy.

I wished he would go rest and recover his strength through sleep.

“Senior.”

So the moment the two stopped beside my bed, I asked,

“You didn’t rest yet, did you? Please, go and sleep.”

Smack!

A flick on the forehead—so fast I didn’t even see his hand move.

I gaped.

It was heavy.

...and that smiling face looked murderous.

I shut my mouth and glanced nervously at Ricardo. Then I carefully asked,

“...Are you angry?”

“You’ve got a real talent for talking yourself into trouble~.”

“Ah, my mentor just told me the same thing.”

At that, the man sitting nearby lifted his head.

My mentor.

The one who had actually run all the way up to the rooftop when I returned—the man I should probably thank for that. Despite the emergency surgery at dawn, he hadn’t left, observing the entire process from start to finish.

Choi Yun said he’d been curious about how the operation would go, since the Green Dream anesthetic didn’t work on my body.

“Isn’t he the best mentor ever?”

“This brat’s getting ruder by the day—but only to me.”

Yun lazily uncrossed his legs.

“That just proves I’m too lenient with you. Don’t you agree, aide-de-camp?”