Chapter 50 - The Girl Wants to Be M*rdered

〈 Chapter 50 〉 Chapter 50. Standing Alone. * * * Building new relationships is always a daunting task. Strangers and unknown places. I'm not so naive as to be able to smile when I find myself cast into a faraway, isolated place without a single person to rely on. Everywhere, a pathway of thorns. A vast grassland where hungry beasts roam, with no place to hide. Who could possibly rest easy in such a place? Certainly not me. An overwhelming sense of loss washed over me, and my desire to halt my steps was insistent, yet still, I trudged forward, one step at a time. Because behind me, beside me, was someone who supported me. Step, step. The sound of footsteps, a bit more than just one person's, echoed through the wide corridor. "—This will be your classroom for the future, Ms. Hahn. Should you need further explanation on anything?" "Oh, no. It's quite enough... haha." "...If any questions arise, please do not hesitate to ask, and feel free to inquire from the resident guides in the building." As she bowed deeply before me, I bowed in return, not to be outdone. Perhaps my bewildered appearance was amusing and fresh to her? I heard a genuine, human laugh from the staff drift over the crown of my head. Her attire, elegant and neat, was reminiscent of suits from a past life, and her courteous tone flustered me. Indeed. Known for the slogan ‘Anything but crimes cannot be considered crimes.’ Truly reflective of the Empire, which embraces the cultures and people of other nations. Yet, the hostility towards the unknown had merely shifted into a gaze of curiosity and wonder. Black hair, black eyes. A rare appearance even in the Empire, the alien look constantly followed me, difficult to grow accustomed to. Rather, more unpleasant— "Then, I shall take my leave." "...Yes, thank you." Truth be told, a fear of others still resided within me. No matter how excellent the treatment, the scars left by a significant wound don't easily fade, and the marks from the village of Syria continued to haunt me. The casual conversations of passersby felt as if they were mocking me, and those who approached me with words seemed suspicious. ...Though, I've improved greatly compared to before. The successive, cold persecutions and indifferent disregard in this second life have embedded themselves deeply as a trauma, inescapable indeed. "...This is the Academy, only heard of in tales." But I’ve learned. Everyone dear to me, those I consider friends began from small ties. Alice, with whom I've since become inseparable, And Saeli, with whom early debates and arguments have since led to a relationship where we can trust and enjoy open conversations, All were relationships that started from zero, I've realized. Even if you can't understand someone's intentions, you must first trust them. Otherwise, relationships can't even begin to form. Through Alice, I've learned the necessity of trust. ...Though, Alice might need to learn a bit about doubting people too. "That girl, she’s too kind for her own good." Tap, tap. With the staff gone, silence envelops the space, only my lone presence echoing. In the corridor connecting the buildings, I walked slowly, reminiscing about memories now far in the past. Walking in the present, recalling the past. Though the warm sunlight pierced intensely, I didn't mind it; instead, I stared defiantly, imprinting this moment firmly in my mind. I am alive. "Whew—" The unreachable stars from my troubled life before, once small dreams, now strangely have come within reach. That's right. I am at the Academy now. ** A clear voice with not a hint of tremor fills the classroom. Energetic students at the peak of their youth hang on every word of the woman holding a slender pointer, jotting down every detail that might appear on exams. Of course, among them, there are those who doze off or play, as always. The teacher might frown at this, but she continues her lecture without pause. "The history of the Arcadia Empire can be said to have been built alongside mercenaries." Unraveled is the history of the past. Once, the Arcadia Empire was just a small commercial nation. Though there was a military managed directly by the state, due to the scarcity of citizens, each life was precious, and thus, much of the military still relied on mercenaries. Mercenaries. Renowned for their unique combat skills and specialized tactics, mercenaries are among the oldest professions in human history. Those who live and die by money. But, given the nature of mercenaries to live and die by money, disputes sparked by wages were frequent, inevitable. Many nations, without deeply considering such shortcomings, often experienced bitter consequences when hiring mercenaries. With one exception here. Unlike other countries plagued by rebellions and similar issues, the Arcadia Empire, through lively trade, managed to substantially offset mercenary wage issues. A nation that requests protection in exchange for money. Mercenaries who protect the nation in exchange for money. A moment of perfect alignment of mutual interests. Remarkably, even a segment of the elite royal guard was composed of mercenaries, illustrating the strong trust between them and the Empire—that relationship deepened by the day. Mercenaries preferred the Arcadia Empire over other states where there was a higher risk of their wages being withheld. Many high-caliber mercenaries had already migrated en masse to the Empire. This circumstance was an immense stroke of luck for the Empire. For a war looming on a colossal scale was approaching. "The war that shook the world, fortunately, completely bypassed the Empire." There is a theory known as the 'Gunslinger Trio Principle.' One shooter with a 100% accuracy rate, another with a 70% accuracy rate, and lastly, one with a 30% accuracy rate. The theory involves determining who would most likely survive if all three fired simultaneously. Surprisingly, the answer is the least accurate shooter. That the weakest, who is barely deemed a threat, has the highest chance of survival is indeed ironic. But the world, by nature, is unjust and irrational, filled with a sequence of coincidences. "Then why didn’t the surrounding powers invade Arcadia during that time?" "...It's hard to state with certainty what those other nations were thinking since we aren't the ones directly involved." One attentive student's question didn't catch the teacher off guard. Calmly, she continued her lecture. Her pointer grazed lightly over the locations of powerful nations that were engaged in war at the time. "While they were undoubtedly drawn to Arcadia's geographical advantages—" Ports, strategic footholds in war. It was reasonable, almost expected, that they'd target it, making the student's question valid. However, there's a fundamental oversight—things don't operate so simply in the world. "We can only speculate on a few possibilities." Tap, tap. Emphasizing the speculative nature of her claims, she opened her slender fingers, beginning to elucidate her reasoning step by step. She posited: In the midst of warring with other nations, it might have been deemed excessive to attack the Arcadia Empire—small in status but strong in military might. Or, seizing this military hub might have led to vulnerabilities, inviting attacks from hyena-like opportunistic nations, making them hesitant. Or perhaps, they simply lacked the resources. "In conclusion, whatever the reasons, the Arcadia Empire not only survived but also utilized the immense profits from warfare to start conquering the war-torn surrounding nations one by one." Simply put, it was fortune. A monumental fortune built on successive strokes of luck. Opportunities that could be lost with one small mistake. The Arcadia Empire merely seized that opportunity. And it's possible that recognizing their progress was due to fortune and not skill was yet another stroke of their luck. Because of that awareness, they avoided complacency and continued to strive. "Despite becoming a larger nation, the need for mercenaries didn't weaken; it only grew stronger over time." A vast territory, a burgeoning population, and a nation bringing in massive wealth. However, a pig simply growing fat would only become a meal for predators. To defend itself, the Empire needed to sharpen its claws and hone its fangs. Of course, this would bring about its own set of problems. "Maintaining an army incurs enormous costs..." "Precisely." Money. Not just waging war, but merely recruiting and training soldiers demands an expenditure of golden proportions. Feeding, washing, housing. Beyond those explicit expenses, when you add implicit costs like those resulting from the inability to farm or produce goods, maintaining high military capability to match a growing nation proved to be no easy feat. And that's where mercenaries came into the spotlight once again. Instead of having soldiers become redundant in peacetime, the Empire converted them to mercenaries—gaining experience and generating profits through employment. Two birds with one stone. With high utility as a reserve force, mercenaries became the perfect system for an Empire long amenable to mercenaries and teeming with various ones crossing its borders. Thus, the history of the Empire is, in essence, the history of mercenaries. Mercenaries, driven by freedom and wealth, embody the pride and symbol of the Empire. Their presence in the Museion was not a coincidence. "—Thus, I'd like to introduce a peer who will share insights on mercenaries over the next three years, welcome her with enthusiastic applause!" """.....!!!""" An unexpected introduction. While surprising, the students, having been given some hint in advance, quickly gathered their composure. Soon, the room burst into raucous applause, filled with anticipation. Even the typically composed students struggled to hide their excitement. The teacher, who had been addressing the class, turned gracefully towards the entrance she had come from. —Click. The door opened with a small sound. "Please welcome, from the renowned Wallenstein Mercenary Corps, the Empire's Wings." She spoke the name of a mercenary group that had recently risen to prominence. A confident stride echoed amidst the cheers, heightening the tension even further. Slowly, the figure emerged. "—Ms. Hahn, Sia." "...Pleased to meet you." A new visitor had arrived. The classroom erupted with applause so intense, it was almost overwhelming.