"You crazy bastard!. Orders! Why did you join the army if you're not going to follow orders!"
The platoon leader's voice hit him before he even had time to breathe.
"Argh! Squad leader! My bones, my bones!"
Leon flailed like a man being shaken by the collar—because that was exactly what was happening.
"Bones? You bastard?! If you had been caught by the elves, your scalp would have been removed!"
The squad leader roared, half furious, half terrified at what could have happened.
And then he got severely scolded by the platoon leader. Why didn't he follow orders and do such a crazy thing?
What kind of soldier decides to evacuate an entire group on instinct alone?
Of course, right after that, the leader thanked him for coming back alive and bringing the platoon members back.
The anger faded, replaced by shaky relief—because the alternative would have been counting coffins.
Anyway, that's how it happened. That's roughly the story of what happened that day.
The memory still flickers in my mind—the chaos, the screaming, the smoke—it all feels strangely distant now, like watching someone else's life.
For the merit of saving a few squad members, he, who was a Private First Class at the time, was promoted one rank to Corporal.
It wasn't a grand medal, nothing heroic enough for bards to sing about, but on the battlefield, even one saved life is a miracle.
It also became one of the reasons he was promoted to Sergeant before being discharged.
A quiet recognition, tucked away in the endless reports and casualty lists.
"Leon? Leon!"
"Oh, what?"
I straighten up immediately, realizing my mind had drifted halfway across the continent.
"Are you listening to my story?"
"Oh, yes. Of course. I'm listening. Thank you. For saying that."
I try to smile naturally, though it comes out more tired than anything.
Still, I mean what I said—hearing someone acknowledge something from that hell… it oddly warms me.
For a moment, he considered telling Selena.
That the soldier seemed to be him.
That I was the one who saved your brother.
Funny enough, that's how it turned out.
...No. Forget it. Let's not say it. What's the point of saying it?
It wasn't a particularly pleasant moment anyway.
Not something to brag about. Not something that would make either of us feel better.
Movies, games, dramas. All sorts of things from memories of his previous life.
There were moments when he wished he could be like the war heroes portrayed in them.
He thought it would be nice to walk around with others' praise, shrugging his shoulders proudly.
To be the cool, admired protagonist who carried everyone to safety.
But having experienced it directly, it was a time he'd rather not recall.
Nothing like the stories. No glory, no shining heroics—just fear, chaos, and desperation.
It wasn't something to speak of proudly, but rather a bitter memory he just wanted to forget.
A reminder that survival doesn't make you a hero. It just means someone else didn't make it.
That place was hell.
A damn hell where someone had to die.
And he just happened to be the one who walked out alive.
*****
Inside the Minister's office at the Empire's War Ministry building.
"Is this certain?"
"Yes, sir. It's based on gathering as many testimonies as possible from those who were there at the time. Adding the accounts of unit commanders and officers, I'd say the probability is over 97 percent."
"If there's a 3 percent chance it's not true, that's still quite significant."
Muttering like that, the War Minister examined the document once more, his brow furrowing as he read each line with growing weight.
"...Alright. Submit this to the Imperial Household Ministry as is, and await the Emperor's word."
He closed the file with a quiet thud, the room falling into a heavy silence.
Imperial Medal of Honor Recipient -
Leon Adelheit -
The department head hesitated, lingering by the desk even after receiving permission to leave.
"…Your Excellency," he said quietly, "if this is true… shouldn't we prepare something more? A round of confirmation? A public inquiry?"
The War Minister raised an eyebrow.
"A public inquiry?" He let out a tired breath. "No. The testimonies are too consistent. The officers all report the same thing. The survivors all recall the same man."
He tapped the paper with one finger.
"Leon Adelheit. A noble who enlisted as a ordinary soldier. A young man who didn't even take credit afterward. The kind of soldier we rarely see."
The department head lowered his gaze.
"…If we award this medal, it will shake the everything. And the aristocracy."
"Yes," the Minister replied. "But that's His Majesty's concern, not ours."
The Minister finally waved him off, and the department head bowed and left.
Once alone, the War Minister leaned back, rubbing his temples.
"A child like that… a Medal of Honor?" he muttered.
"Where were you hiding, boy?"
----
Back at the café, the atmosphere between Leon and Selena had softened, but an awkward thread still hung in the air.
Selena looked at Leon carefully, her fingers curling around her cup as if searching for warmth.
"You drifted off again," she said gently. "Does that… happen often?"
Leon hesitated.
He wasn't used to people asking him that with concern rather than annoyance.
"…Sometimes," he admitted. "It's a habit from the field. I zone out when I think about something unpleasant."
Selena lowered her gaze.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up anything painful."
"You didn't," Leon said, shaking his head. "I just… remembered something."
He tried to smile, but it tugged at something tight inside him.
Selena watched him quietly for a few seconds.
"You know," she said, her voice softer than before, "my brother… he said the one who saved him didn't hesitate. That they didn't even check if the path was clear. They just threw themselves into danger to pull him out. He always wondered why someone would risk that much for people they didn't even know."
"…Really."
Leon kept his eyes on his drink.
"He said," Selena continued, "that if he ever met that person again, he'd want to thank him properly. Buy him a drink. Or ten."
Leon let out a faint breath that could've been a laugh… or a sigh.