To be honest, this situation is so uncomfortable. So uncomfortable that I could die.
My skin practically crawls just sitting here.
Facing the embarrassing fragments of the past is never a pleasant experience.
Especially when those fragments are staring at me from across the table with bright eyes and a calm expression, pretending everything is fine.
But it's also awkward to say to someone's face, "Ah, we're not on speaking terms, so let's part ways."
That would just make things even weirder.
Think about it. Who confessed? Me. And who rejected me? Selena sitting across from me.
The roles are painfully clear—etched into my memory whether I like it or not.
If I were to leave first, it would be like admitting, "You rejected me and I'm sulking!"
I refuse. Absolutely refuse. I have at least a sliver of pride left.
I don't want to be that guy who gets upset over something that wasn't even my doing.
…No, wait. I did do it, didn't I? Remembering my past life is quite confusing.
The more I think about it, the more my past and current self mix together into a messy blur of embarrassment.
Fortunately, my consciousness is more aligned with my current life than my past one.
If it weren't, I'd probably be curled up under the table by now.
"Have you greeted the other classmates?"
"Just Etbin. I haven't met the others yet."
"They must all be busy. The graduating class will be swamped if they haven't earned enough credits."
Come on, guys! The professors told you to build up credits early so you could relax later.
They warned you a hundred times, but you never listen.
I guess humans are just like that. They only get to work when it's urgent.
It's a universal truth that transcends lifetimes.
Assignments, exams, and credits. In the end, cramming is the way to go, right?
No matter how many times life resets, procrastination stays the same.
"By the way, Leon. You said you enlisted in the military."
"Huh? Oh. Did I say that?"
"Did you fight in the war against Luzens?"
"Don't even mention it. I spent nearly three years there. Almost my entire military service."
That's strange. Don't women usually hate military talk?
Most would change the topic immediately, but she's looking straight at me—curious, not annoyed.
I'm grateful she's steering the conversation this way, though.
Honestly, anything is better than talking about that confession again.
Since Selena brought it up, I shared some military stories.
Nothing too deep—just the entertaining bits.
The things you can say without traumatizing civilians.
Like the time a guy tried to roast meat with fire magic and almost blew up the entire tent.
Thankfully, her reaction wasn't bad.
See? That's not a forced smile.
She's genuinely listening, even leaning forward slightly without realizing it.
"...Leon."
Selena, who had been looking quite interested, suddenly calls my name.
"Is it because you went to the military? You seem different."
"Me?"
"Yes. How should I put it? You seem more relaxed than before, and also..."
She trails off, searching for the right words.
If I didn't know about my past life, I might have thought, Oh! Is that a compliment?!
My past self would've jumped three meters in the air just hearing that.
But having experienced that hellish military service, her words don't excite me much.
I know exactly what she means.
It's what people typically say to someone who's just completed military service.
You seem different.
You seem more mature.
Damn, I was just a slave, what are you talking about?
Maturity? Relaxed?
I was getting shot at, frozen half to death, digging trenches, and praying not to die.
Anyone would change.
Still… hearing it from her, of all people, feels strangely bittersweet.
"Ah, right. Leon, have you ever met my brother?"
"Your brother? Where was he stationed?"
"He was a platoon leader in the Empire's 7th Infantry Regiment."
"...There are many platoon leaders there, so I'm not sure... I don't think I've met him."
"Really? That's strange. He said he met almost every officer."
"I wasn't an officer. I was an enlisted soldier."
Selena nodded reflexively, saying, "Ah, I see."
But soon after, she was clearly shocked, as if thinking, Wait, what did you just say?
Her eyes widened, her posture stiffened, and the realization slowly washed over her face.
How many times have I seen that reaction today?
At this point, it's almost becoming a routine—me talking, someone freezing, blinking twice, then staring at me like I'm an extinct animal.
If I had known this would happen, I should have enlisted as an officer.
Would've saved me so many explanations, too.
"Leon, you enlisted as a regular soldier?"
"Yes."
Short, simple, and apparently unbelievable.
"Not as an officer? Why? Why on earth would you do that?"
Good question. Why did I enlist as a regular soldier? I'm curious too.
Her bafflement is so intense that even I start doubting my sanity.
Let me recall how I felt back then. Come on, past self. Why did you do that?
Think… come on… ah.
Oh, right. To forget the pain.
'Ah, so that's why! You crazy bastard.'
Even so, how could a noble's son enlist as a regular soldier?
Even Selena looks like she's trying to solve a riddle with missing pieces.
And to make matters worse, war broke out at that time, so I couldn't even use my family's influence.
The perfect storm of bad timing and bad decisions.
Great job, past me. Brilliant work.
When all the Empire's soldiers are fighting hard, who would retreat using connections?
The idea alone is ridiculous.
The moment that becomes known, everyone involved would lose their heads.
"So, Leon. You went to war as a regular soldier, not an officer?"
"Yeah."
"My, my goodness..."
Quite shocked, Selena kept covering her mouth and repeating "My goodness."
Her eyes widened more each time, like she was replaying the idea in her head and getting increasingly horrified.
Then suddenly, as if struck by a realization, she stood up abruptly—her chair scraping loudly against the floor.
"Wait. No, it can't be?"
"What?"
My heart skips a beat at the sudden shift.
"You enlisted as a regular soldier. Could it be because of me?!"
"Huh?"
Where did that even—?
"Was it because of me?! Because I rejected your confession! Because you were hurt!"
"What? Well... it wasn't completely unrelated? No, wait. That's not it. It wasn't because of that. Really!"
My hands start flailing on their own. Why do hands always betray people at moments like this?
I wanted to say that I was just immature back then.
That I was foolish.
That I was an idiot who thought physical pain would ease emotional suffering.
That I was a noble with the brains of a carrot.
But Selena didn't give me a chance to explain.
"And I had no idea... I've been talking so casually all this time... I thought it was strange that a noble like you would enlist as a regular soldier... Leon, I'm so, so sorry..."
Her voice trembled, guilt welling up like she was about to cry.
No, wait. Selena? Listen to me! Listen!
Yes, it was because of you, but there's no need to apologize!
If anything, I should apologize—to myself, to the Empire, to common sense.
But she keeps spiraling, and I can't get a single word in.
This is a disaster.