Chapter 12: The Weight of a Father’s Will

“Why can’t I go to the southern continent? Aren’t we fighting the enemy there? Or, couldn’t I be transferred to the northern coast of Francis, where preparations are underway for the invasion of the Kingdom of Brittany? Father? Father!”

Yuli recalled that heated argument once more. General Gustav, her father, had stood before her, his posture rigid and solemn as he spoke.

“Yuli, it’s safer for you in Purburg. This is for your own good! The Leader has already approved your appointment as the station chief for the newly established Army Intelligence Purburg Outpost. Do you realize what a significant promotion this is? Moreover, I’ve sent Lyon to assist you; it’s been a while since you two last met.”

General Gustav’s unquestionable tone filled Yuli with deep dissatisfaction. She lowered her head, feeling wronged, yet still intended to argue further.

“But… Lyon is trained in intelligence. Wouldn’t it be better to appoint him as the station chief directly? I… I know nothing about intelligence work. I only know how to drive a tank, Father, this…”

“This is both my idea and the Leader’s will, Yuli. Compared to an overseas campaign, remaining on the Western Continent is far safer. I admit, I have my selfish reasons, but please try to understand your father…”

A sorrowful expression crossed General Gustav’s face. Witnessing it, Yuli couldn’t help but avert her gaze, a ripple of emotion stirring within her heart.

“Besides, Yuli, if intelligence work is done well, its contribution to the Empire can be far, far greater than you charging into battle with a tank once or twice! We can strive for the Empire on every front!”

Her father’s arguments ultimately swayed Yuli, albeit under extreme reluctance. She could comprehend why her father would arrange for her to be in a relatively safer and higher-ranking position, as she was his own flesh and blood. However…

She instinctively felt unsuited for intelligence work. She wasn’t even sure what a station chief should do, nor did she understand the Leader’s intention in supporting her father’s decision.

She still yearned for an unconstrained life, for the joy of charging into battle within a steel behemoth, or for the glory of a war hero. She longed for the overt clash of blades and the thunder of armored might, not the shadows.

Yet, she could only comply with her father’s arrangements. Subsequently, she took up residence in the newly established Purburg Outpost’s official residence, gradually drifting away from tanks and the military she once adored.

When she could no longer distract herself with these matters, her thoughts began to irrevocably wander. Once more, the image of that beautiful, golden-haired young man surfaced in her mind.

Fran…

She lowered her head, feeling a subtle tearing sensation in her heart. For the past six months, whenever she had a moment of respite from training, she would inevitably lose control of her thoughts, recalling Fran’s appearance.

She still remembered Fran’s delicate voice, his endearing charm. The mere thought of him ignited an uncontrollable restlessness within her. She had even consulted a psychologist, only to be told, “You’d be better off seeing him.”

Of course she wanted to see him. However, her training and operational deployments kept her incredibly busy, and besides, how could she frequently travel between Francis and Teuton, two warring nations?

Thus, the matter was continuously postponed until her arrival in Purburg.

Yet, when she miraculously encountered the young man she had longed for day and night, he seemed not to recognize her. What’s more…

Upon realizing she was a Teuton soldier, he had appeared remarkably indifferent, even uttering words like, “I’ve accompanied many people…”

“I’ve accompanied many people… but I truly don’t remember you.”

Heh…

She slumped onto the table, offering a self-deprecating laugh. The person she had longed for over six months, the one who had even been her first, had only offered cold reality upon their reunion. The young man’s words shattered every illusion she held of “Fran,” the adorable boy in her mind.

‘Was he… truly just a gigolo? A man of the night?’

‘Perhaps everything he said was true. Perhaps she had merely indulged in wishful thinking, imagining he would remember her, imagining he was also waiting for his Yuli. But in truth… she was the only one who had been waiting for a reunion.’

‘And him? Perhaps she truly was just a passing acquaintance in his life, merely a customer. Perhaps he had done similar things with countless others, and she was far from his only one; he was simply in it for the money.’

Yuli lay sprawled on the table in anguish, tears unconsciously welling up once more. The black-haired young man beside her swiftly patted her shoulder, offering a cup of wine as comfort.

“Alright, Sister Yuli, for the past two days, you’ve done nothing but mope. Drink some wine and drown your sorrows…”

The black-haired young man was named Lyon, Yuli’s childhood friend. Their families were both part of Teuton’s meritorious noble class.

Unlike Yuli, Lyon had chosen a career in intelligence after graduating from middle school, undergoing continuous training until the present day. Given his relationship with Yuli, Purburg had assigned him to the newly established Purburg Outpost.

Lyon was, by all accounts, far more suited to be the station chief of the Purburg outpost than Yuli.

Yet, for reasons unknown, Adelie had still appointed Yuli to oversee it. Lyon, however, held no great resentment, as his close relationship with Yuli meant his influence over the Purburg outpost remained undiminished, even without the formal title.

Yuli accepted the wine glass, yet her emotions remained uncontrollable. She held the glass, contemplating for a long moment before confiding in Lyon.

“Lyon, tell me… am I being too sentimental?”

“Ah…” Lyon shook his head. He had heard enough of his childhood ‘big sister’ rambling about her first love, so he could only offer this assessment of Fran:

“Harlots have no heart, and actors no loyalty, Sister Yuli. I know your tastes are a bit unique, but there are so many young women in Purburg. Why keep thinking about a fake woman?”

“I don’t know…” Yuli twirled her glass, a profound melancholy still lingering in her eyes. She recalled Fran telling her he was leaving during their last farewell. She had searched for him in the taverns afterward but truly couldn’t find him.

‘Perhaps he truly had left, far from Purburg, far from the conflict, far from her. In this vast Francis, where could she possibly find him?’

‘Perhaps she would never see him again…’

‘She truly regretted it. She should have just knocked the fellow out with a rifle butt back then, then tied him up and brought him to the residence to get to know him slowly…’

Yuli let out a deep sigh. She couldn’t continue like this, or she would surely pine herself into lovesickness. ‘Forget it.’

She looked toward the center of the tavern, recently acquired by the army, where numerous alluring Francis girls had gathered. They either nestled in the arms of Teuton soldiers or stood waiting for someone to approach and ask them to dance.

Yuli observed these women of the night, shaking her head. She stood up, just about to call Lyon back to the residence, for she no longer wished to remain in this place.

The two walked toward the entrance. Just as they were about to leave, a golden-haired “girl” entered the tavern, coming face to face with them.

Yuli was momentarily stunned, but she reacted almost instantly. She turned her head, her gaze wavering as she looked at the figure she could never forget.

Fran…