My breathing slowly calmed.

The bursts of memory that had flooded out settled back into order as the rhythm of my breaths steadied. I still hadn’t remembered everything, but the memories of the comrade who had once faced my sword returned vividly.

Rei.

I didn’t know if I had the right to speak his name.

Or the right to cry like this.

But the tears wouldn’t stop easily, so I sat there quietly for a long time, weeping, until I finally wiped them away again.

He might as well have died by my hand.

Then I remembered Lee Seunghyun. The soldier recruited from Korea—born with an innate talent for battle.

I recalled being astonished by his skill...

And his smile.

He was a man who hardly ever smiled. Not expressionless exactly, but his natural look was a faint scowl, as if something constantly bothered him. When I first met him, he’d still been young. It wasn’t that he didn’t get along with his comrades, but he was never someone easy to approach, so even I had always kept a certain distance.

But twice—only twice—Lee Seunghyun had smiled, truly and purely.

“When I think about it now, I remember,” I murmured absently.

The tears had stopped, but the shock had not faded.

“Lee Seunghyun was an orphan.”

Kneeling before me, Yehyeon quietly nodded.

The revived memory was precise. I had spoken several times with the younger Seunghyun.

Among the human soldiers I’d taught, he was the most outstanding. He simply didn’t know how to give love. The man had never known real care himself.

That didn’t excuse how he treated his son—but still, he had smiled brightly, twice.

When he announced he was getting married.

And when he said a child was on the way.

Only those two times.

So that meant...

“You were that child.”

I stared blankly at the man sitting before me.

Seen like this, Lee Yehyeon really did resemble him. His features were softer than Seunghyun’s, but the shape of his face, the placement of his eyes and mouth—uncannily similar.

I remembered congratulating Seunghyun on becoming a father.

“You’ve grown this much,” I murmured, absentmindedly reaching out to ruffle the man’s hair.

Yehyeon’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t move.

Wow. Really, they were alike. Even the deep color of the eyes and hair was identical.

That soft black hair...

...Wait.

Hair?

Yehyeon’s hair?

“Uwaaaah!”

I screamed and sprang back.

Yehyeon, who’d been quietly looking up at me, also jolted in shock, his eyes going wide.

In an instant, distance opened between us.

I froze with my hands pulled back to my chest, and Yehyeon froze standing upright.

Silence fell over the living room. The air was tight, both of us stiff and unmoving, staring at each other wide-eyed like startled animals.

The only sound was the slurp of Yun sipping his coffee.

The first to break the silence was Yehyeon.

“What’s wrong?”

“Waaah! Please don’t use honorifics with me!”

Why are you using polite speech toward me?!

And why, as the Commander, are you talking to me like that?!

Panicking, I shook my stupid hand that had just patted his head.

“I’m sorry!”

“What? No, um—huh?”

“I’ll correct it! I’m really sorry!”

“This is more chaotic than Richard’s family tree,” Yun commented dryly.

He sat calmly on the sofa, legs crossed, one arm draped over the backrest, sipping his coffee like none of this concerned him.

My superior added without a flicker of emotion,

“This might even be worse than Richard’s case. So, should I use honorifics too?”

“Waaah!”

Don’t you dare!

I leapt up.

“Please don’t!”

“What?”

“I don’t want it! No honorifics!”

“Why reject it so passionately?”

“Please treat me like a rookie!”

I shouted with all sincerity.

“Treat me like a newbie—like you used to!”

My superior pretended not to hear.

He raised his coffee cup to his lips, one eyebrow arching silently. Those black, emotionless eyes dissected my face.

Even after hearing everything, he looked the same—utterly unchanged. So very like him.

I looked at Yun earnestly.

“In an organization, age means nothing, respected senior.”

“Oh. A commendable attitude,” Yun said with mock surprise.

He set his coffee cup down on the table.

“But with that mindset, you still patted the head of the top commander?”

“Waaah! I’m sorry!”

What the hell is wrong with me?!

Tearing up, I bowed my head deeply to Yehyeon again. He hurriedly tried to stop me, stepping closer and telling me to raise my head, then turned toward Yun.

“Yun. Stop it,” he said, furrowing his brows.

Yun glanced at him, smirking.

“What? I didn’t do anything.”

“Don’t pick on Hilde for no reason. And anyway, in private it’s actually right for me to speak politely to him.”

“No, it’s not.”

I deadpanned.

Yun bent forward slightly and began to laugh under his breath. Yehyeon widened his already large eyes and looked back at me.

“Do you hate it that much?”

“Yes. Please—really.”

Why did he keep using honorifics?

“Please just treat me as you did before.”

“Hmm... If that’s what you want, I can, but...”

To my surprise, Yehyeon hesitated.

The color drained from my face.

And in front of me, the man spoke slowly.

“I heard you taught my father swordsmanship.”

Ah. That, yes.

Lee Seunghyun had been an excellent student.

The best I’d ever taught.

“I learned the same swordsmanship my father learned from you, and I’ve heard the voice message you left. So regardless of age, it’s only natural I should speak politely—”

“It’s not natural at all.”

What part of that is natural?!

But my superior only blinked and looked at me, the kind of expression that meant he wouldn’t listen to ordinary reasoning.

I had no choice but to start begging. I pleaded with him to please treat me as before. I apologized for everything I’d said while hyperventilating, for stupidly patting his head, for everything.

I confessed that whatever I had been in the past, now I was a wreck—weak, incomplete, far from what I used to be.

Ignoring Yun’s muttered “what a disastrous family tree,” I went on for quite a while.

Until Yehyeon’s work phone rang, and the air shifted.

***

In the end, the issue of how to address each other wasn’t settled until the next morning.

At eight a.m., summoned to the cabin, I pleaded again with the two of them.

Thankfully, Yun agreed quickly. He promised to treat me normally again—like before. Since I might be ancient but my skills were still pitiful, he’d keep calling me a green rookie.

Those blunt words nearly made me emotional. I bowed to him with heartfelt gratitude.

Then I turned my appeals toward Yehyeon.

The Commander hesitated for a long time.

“You’re going to use casual speech with my father, aren’t you?”

“Well, that’s because he’s—uh—my old student... I mean, an old acquaintance. But you’re my commanding officer.”

“In public we should respect each other’s ranks. But privately...”

“I haven’t even regained all my memories yet.”

I was desperate.

“At least until I’ve fully recovered my memories and can pull my own weight again—please, wait until then to use honorifics.”

That argument was accepted.

Our conversation returned to how it used to be. When my superior began speaking informally again, a small peace settled in my chest. I pressed a hand to my heart and exhaled in relief.

Of course, that peace didn’t last long.

Strangely, Yehyeon wasn’t getting ready for work. Watching me relax, he spoke.

“So, do you want to hold the sword again?”

I froze instantly.

A sharp pain pierced my chest like glass. Last night, I’d forced myself to ignore it ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) and sleep.

My sword, stained with Rei’s blood.

If I asked for it back, Yehyeon would surely hand it over without hesitation. He might even have been waiting for that moment ever since I arrived.

But I still wasn’t sure.

It felt strangely like a weekend morning. Maybe because Yehyeon showed no intention of going to work. Sunlight poured through the living room’s tall windows, and through the open kitchen window drifted the scent of early morning air.

With sharpened senses, I took in the clear, cool sensations and answered.

“Not until I’ve regained my skill.”

My superior listened quietly to my heavy reply.

“You’ll probably think it’s foolish, but... it feels like the proper thing to do.”

Proper toward Rei, and toward the sword that had slept for so long.

I trailed off, but neither of them asked anything. Yehyeon only nodded, watching me with an unreadable face. I was grateful they didn’t press.

The past I’d recalled was still too raw, too tangled.

Suppressing the guilt and self-loathing boring holes in my chest, I bowed slightly.

“Thank you.”

“No,” Yehyeon replied simply.

“When the time comes, tell me.”

“Yes. Just a little longer, please.”

“All right.”

He answered evenly, then fell into thought.

Bathed in the white morning sunlight, he stood still until Yun lazily rose from the sofa and came over. “Let’s go,” he said.

I looked up, uncertain who he meant. Yehyeon met my gaze.

“Come on, let’s go spar.”

“...What?”

“Sword sparring,” he said casually.

“Let’s have a match, Hilde. I need to see your ability.”

I stared at him, speechless.

A hundred thoughts swirled—but one question overrode them all.

“Commander, do you even have a sword?”

Or did he mean to use mine?

Maybe he caught the thought in my tone, because Yehyeon gave a faint, bitter smile.

“I haven’t touched your sword since that day.”

There was an inexplicable sadness in his voice.

“I’ve never shown it to anyone else, never talked about it in detail. Sometimes I take it out to maintain it. I worry my maintenance might not meet your standards, though...”

“No,” I said softly.

And looking into those black eyes that always seemed filled with sorrow, I added,

“Thank you for keeping my sword safe.”

It had been my most cherished possession.

The longing welled up as soon as I became aware of it—though I knew it bore Rei’s blood, I couldn’t suppress it.

I didn’t even know what I would feel if I held it again, but still—

I was grateful that the person who’d inherited it had treated it with such care.

When my skills return, I’ll be able to hold my greatsword again.

“Will you spar with me?” I asked, lifting my head.

Yehyeon smiled sadly and nodded.