Chapter 13

The balcony was bathed in glaring white light, the sun so fierce that the leaves on the trees inside the base curled up. It was now noon break. Valian looked satisfied as he rose from beneath Jasti, heading first to the bathroom for a shower. Refreshed, he then went to the kitchen.

Standing at the counter, he wore only a tank top; his long legs were clad in trousers, the belt loosely fastened. Around his well-built chest hung a silver necklace, its pendant open to reveal a small portrait.

Valian had short, silver hair and cold gray-blue eyes, but now, as he lowered his gaze, there was a gentleness in them.

That morning’s refrigerated little triangular doughs were being rolled out from the center upwards, the pointed tail lifted and stretched into long isosceles triangles. The bottom edge was cut, then rolled diagonally downward from the cut, sealed tightly, and the two ends twisted finely.

The thin ends were bent to form a crescent shape. He covered them with a damp cloth to ferment; two minutes remained before class.

Valian picked up the shirt placed aside, putting it on while striding out with long steps. The shirt’s hem was tucked in neatly as his hand passed over it.

He pulled a mint candy from his pocket and popped it into his mouth as he entered the classroom.

Today’s lesson was psychology.

Jasti had invited a famous retired professor to give a lecture—a ten-day course—and she sat among the students listening as well.

The trainees were all attentive. A professor of Ross’s caliber was only available at Enisa’s higher academies.

Foregoing any humorous attempts to lighten the mood, Professor Ross delivered only practical content, filled with technical terminology.

Everyone had a voice recorder in hand to transcribe afterward, as taking notes would distract them.

Addressing various psychological issues faced by soldiers, Professor Ross illustrated his points with real cases.

In certain extreme environments or after intense trauma, mental health can deteriorate rapidly, leading to actions even the individual cannot comprehend.

On the screen appeared a clear, gruesome photo from the infamous Carmon incident, well-known within the military but suppressed from public knowledge.

The image showed Carmon, like a wild beast, devouring human entrails. He had survived under extremely harsh conditions, with lingering psychological scars. One day, the victim inadvertently mentioned a word sensitive to Carmon, triggering madness.

In a flash, Carmon lost reason and acted incomprehensibly.

Another photo appeared, showing the swamp forest where Carmon had stayed. Everyone’s hearts tightened.

Carmon and his team had spent three long months in the swamp. Though they completed their mission, several returned with violent incidents, overlooked due to their severity—until Carmon resorted to cannibalism.

Before the lesson ended, Professor Ross presented a psychological warning scale; surpassing the red line indicated mental disturbance.

The levels ranged from mild to severe, with the red line marking the need to see a psychiatrist.

The entire afternoon passed, and the students—many encountering psychology for the first time—discussed the striking real examples fervently after class.

Under his business card, Professor Ross wrote down contact information for a recommended psychologist.

Jasti kept it safe, prepared for any eventuality.

At dinner, a group sat together eating. Remy looked at the creamy soup and suddenly asked,

“What does human flesh taste like?”

Unexpectedly, one of the snipers, Tanzia, answered calmly,

“More tender than pork, less gamey than mutton.”

Everyone stared at him. He remained unfazed.

“My hometown’s slaughterhouse sometimes mixed human meat in. My family was once tricked into buying it.”

Sander asked,

“How did you recognize it?”

Tanzia, reluctant to recall, still replied,

“One time the butcher was careless and left a finger in the mix. From then on, my whole family went vegetarian.”

Riven asked,

“Have you overcome the psychological barrier to eating meat now?”

Tanzia looked at the meatballs on the person’s plate opposite him, shaking his head.

“I still recall that scene. I can’t eat it.”

Others around had similar experiences, showing how crucial mental health truly was. Valian whispered,

“The commander is impressive—thought of everything.”

Aks, sitting opposite, grinned widely,

“The commander being able to get Professor Ross here—that’s impressive.”

Remy, Louis, and Markum nodded in agreement,

“Professor Ross is very famous. I’ve bought his books.”

“He only lectures at a few high academies in Enisa. He doesn’t go elsewhere.”

“Ross doesn’t need money. For him to come here, the commander really is something.”

All seven handsome men smiled faintly. The real reason Ross came was because his son had been kidnapped.

In his single dormitory, Professor Ross watched a video of his son laughing foolishly and clenched his anger.

Tolan had a house in town, where Ross’s son, Dalo, was infatuated with Marcia, fawning over her and following her orders.

Soon, a very beautiful young girl appeared in the video—Sander’s sister, Tali—asking Dalo to help unload cargo.

Dalo eagerly nodded and ran to assist.

Ross could not bear to watch any longer. Closing the video, he muttered about his foolish son and began preparing the next day’s lesson.

Though he had been invited to teach at the base before, this was the first time he did so without pay.

He cursed again,

“Fool, just like his father.”

The next morning at breakfast, Jasti ate a croissant—perfectly shaped with an even color. Except for three newcomers, the others were unfazed.

Remy praised,

“Commander, where did you get these beautiful breads?”

Louis called him silly,

“There’s no bakery here. The chef must have made them.”

Markum swallowed hard,

“Commander, any left? I haven’t tasted good bread in six months.”

They all grew up in the city and despised the base’s usual bread. But this croissant looked irresistible.

Jasti glanced at them,

“I made them myself, so yes.”

The three deflated, realizing there was none left for them.

The six from the same village kept glancing at the croissants, comparing silently. Valian smiled faintly; from any angle, his croissants were top-notch.

Jasti ate two, splitting the tips, and was surprised to find the outer flaky crust could be peeled off and twisted without breaking.

She leaned back, savoring the crust, and declared it delicious.

The three who couldn’t have any eyeed the last croissant on the table with longing; belonging to the commander, they could only watch greedily.

That evening, several people chatting while repairing vehicles in the warehouse, Aks asked when they could taste bread made by Marcia.

Having been around for a while, he knew the local bread customs and often saw Jasti eating bread, which made him crave some too.

But all agreed he had to wait until after marriage.

Aks didn’t know the other villagers well enough to discern anything.

Marcia was reluctant to give Aks bread; Tolan delayed the matter, saying they would discuss it after marriage.

Marcia agreed to date Aks for the sake of her family but internally resisted him. Actually, she desired someone outstanding and radiant like Jasti, someone she could admire.

Her brother Tolan might not marry, but she had to. Living in town was already her biggest breakthrough; she could neither enlist nor read much, and leaving town would leave her vulnerable.

Fortunately, Aks only had one day off per month, so their contact was limited and bearable.

Marcia and Aks’s wedding was scheduled after the competition, with all preparations entrusted to Tolan’s family.

The warehouse smelled strongly of fuel; Aks lay under a vehicle with a headlamp on his forehead, hands busy wiring, asking somewhat muffled,

“Does Marcia not like me?”

Only the sound of tools filled the warehouse. Wearing safety goggles, Mckate pursed his lips in silence.

He finally said,

“Does it matter if she likes you? She’ll be your wife. Be grateful, she’s a great beauty. Why would she like you? Don’t be greedy.”

With experience, his words were blunt but truthful. Aks replied,

“Mckate, you’ve been divorced for many years, haven’t you?”

“Almost twenty. I divorced on impulse. Aks, I advise you to see yourself clearly. Most of your time is at the base; you give little to your family. Treasure what you have; don’t waste time.”

“I just want Marcia to like me a little.”

“You’re young—still too young.”

Aks could feel Marcia’s coldness, blaming his appearance for her indifference.

That night, he braced himself and knocked on the door outside, determined not to leave without an answer. Tolan appeared with a stern face and let him in.

Jasti poured herself a glass of iced wine and asked,

“Aks, what’s the matter?”

Tolan put his jacket back on and stood aside to listen.

“Commander, I want to ask you for something.”

“Go on.”

Aks shared his idea of recruiting female soldiers. Jasti said,

“Cases of sexual harassment against female soldiers rise every year. You know that, right?”

A female officer from a high academy like Jasti would never face such problems; even insubordination was unthinkable. But lower-ranking female soldiers did face harassment.

Aks said,

“I know, but my research shows these issues stem from management problems. They intentionally house female and male soldiers together in the same area.”

Jasti sat down, crossing her legs, and asked,

“What benefits does recruiting female soldiers bring? Even if I agree, the higher-ups might not.”

Soon, Aks left dejected. Tolan closed the door and said,

“Commander, Aks just wants to win Marcia’s favor.”

“Hmm, I figured. But the suggestion isn’t bad.”

“Commander, what will you do?”

“Marcia doesn’t belong in the base. Ask if she’d be willing to join our family, but don’t force her.”

“Yes, Commander.”

Tolan said this, quickly stripped off his clothes, and began unbuttoning her shirt, urging her to hurry.

The ten-day psychology course ended. Marcia and Tali drove Dalo to the base in a private car.

Professor Ross forcefully pinched Dalo’s ear and ushered him into a small aircraft, giving him no chance to say goodbye.

Sander and Tolan spoke separately with Marcia and Tali.

Maria and Tali had no hesitation and agreed to join.

But on one condition: they would still marry and have children to add members to the family. Both volunteered willingly.

Jasti hired a female tutor in town to teach them literacy and also kidnapped a child so that her champion mother could teach the two dagger fighting.

They had missed the best time; the dagger was the fastest weapon to learn and easy to conceal.

Marcia and Tali studied more diligently than their brothers and cherished the opportunity, utterly loyal to Jasti.

While loving their brothers, they also envied their entry into the base.

They seized the turning point of fate, with family and friends unaware.

In the backyard of a small town household, a five-year-old girl named Giselle wore a locked pendant around her neck.

She played with two pet dogs—the same white-spotted puppy that had lured her away from school.

Her mother, Sarah, called her inside to study. Giselle happily ran back, joining her two older sisters in learning to read.

Sarah glanced at the surveillance cameras covering every corner inside, sighed, and went to the kitchen to cook.

She could only comfort herself that Giselle’s education was not neglected.