My Desertion Would Be Faster Than Heros’ Obsession

"Um, yes…" I replied in a dazed voice. I wasn’t particularly exceptional, but getting a compliment from the notoriously strict Winter left me unsure of how to react.

"You seem to pick up knowledge quickly, like how you absorbed information about monsters before."

"Aha, yes…"

Of course, that was only because I already knew some of it from the original novel. My conscience pricked at me.

Whether or not he noticed my awkwardness, Winter seemed genuinely pleased to encounter a junior who appeared intelligent.

"If you apply yourself, you might even memorize the entire military code."

"…Pardon?"

"Aside from Ishina, I haven’t seen a junior act sensibly in a long time. It’s refreshing to find someone worth teaching."

This was bad.

In the military, you were supposed to keep a low profile, but I’d gone and stood out in front of Winter.

"Professor…?"

Winter’s eyes gleamed like a university professor eyeing a prospective graduate student. As my face turned pale from the realization, the door to the consultation room burst open with a loud bang.

We were at the company headquarters, in a room typically used by the company commander for counseling sessions with the troops. The commander rarely used it, so he’d graciously lent it to Winter. Later, I learned that Winter’s reputation as an elite soldier had earned him the privilege of handling various administrative tasks, gaining the commander’s favor.

Personally, I’d rather be seen as a lazy slacker than win someone’s favor through hard work.@@novelbin@@

Anyway, the person who stormed in was none other than Altair.

"Perfect timing."

If Altair hadn’t shown up, I might’ve found myself signing up for officer training or filling out college applications for post-discharge plans under Winter’s guidance.

Altair beamed his signature cheerful smile as he looked at us, his voice unusually excited.

"Oh, nice~. Looks like you two are working hard. Good job, Salvia, showing some real passion."

Honestly, it was a blessing our unit was stationed on a mountain. If we were at the base of one, Altair would probably lead daily "passion hikes" while shouting, "Passion! Passion! Passion!"

"Altair. What brings you here?" Winter asked coolly.

"Do I need a reason to drop by? Can’t I show some interest in how my juniors are doing?"

Despite Winter’s frosty response, Altair took it in stride and turned to me.

"Oh, Blair and Topio used to get lessons from Winter too. So, how’s Salvia doing, Winter?"

"Salvia has a natural aptitude for languages. They’re not even in the same league as those two."

"Wait, those two got lessons from Winter too?"

Why did it feel like I was discovering more and more things I had in common with Blair and Topio, those insufferable 85th-generation recruits?

"No, at least I’m not a total jerk like them…"

I pulled a reluctant face, but something about Altair’s words struck me as odd.

I’d never seen Blair and Topio get lessons from Winter since I enlisted. That meant they must’ve learned before I joined. But before I enlisted, Winter would’ve been a private. Did the seniors really let a private teach other recruits?

"Did you teach Blair and Topio when you were a private, Winter?" I asked, voicing my curiosity. Altair’s eyes gleamed as he reminisced.

"Yeah, that was supposed to be a corporal’s job, but Winter was so exceptional that the seniors left it to him."

"So basically, they dumped grunt work on Winter."

I pieced together the truth from Altair’s words and nodded to myself. That made sense.

Winter probably didn’t mind teaching Blair and Topio either. After all, he was an obsessive perfectionist and a stickler for rules.

Winter had always been the model private. No matter what chaos unfolded around him, he stuck to the textbook definition of a private’s duties.

For instance, when the toxic 85th generation recruits were forced to bow their heads to seniors, Winter calmly swept the floor under them. When April grabbed another corporal by the hair, the other juniors worried about what might happen to them next. But Winter? He simply pulled another weed out of the ground.

However, everything changed when Winter became a corporal.

He remained a strict rule-follower, but now that "managing juniors" fell under his responsibilities, his obsession with rules expanded into outright control freak behavior.

Even when he suggested I take up firearms earlier, it must’ve been a brief lapse in his carefully concealed authoritarian tendencies.

Proof? Ever since he became a corporal, juniors had to endure instructions like:

"Straighten your back by exactly ten degrees."
"When doing that exercise, extend your right foot forward by eight centimeters."
"There’s dust on the bottom right corner of the fifth window in the hallway."

And the worst part? He was always right. Juniors couldn’t even complain because his corrections were so precise. Naturally, his subordinates suffered under the burden of meeting his impossible standards.

Recalling the many times I’d been scolded by Winter, I felt tears threatening to well up.

"Salvia. That’s enough for today. We’ll continue tomorrow. Practice writing more in the meantime."

"Yes, but I think I can study on my own from now—"

"No."

Winter cut me off with a sudden, forceful expression. Startled by his intensity, I flinched, but he continued in a cold, unwavering tone.

"This is a rare opportunity. We can’t let it go to waste."

"…Excuse me?"

I blinked at him, utterly baffled. His already serious face grew even graver.

"You have talent. This is your chance to unlock it."

"…What?"

I had no idea where this crazed professor impersonator was planning to drag me, but as a lowly recruit, all I could do was nod tearfully in submission.

"Fine. Let’s think positively about this."

Winter had been entrusted to teach Blair and Topio even as a private. A man with such authority, even back then…

"I want that kind of power…!"

I resolved to use this learning opportunity to get closer to Winter and secure a spot in his faction. Winter was currently the most influential figure in this unit, and he’d remain so throughout the events of the original story.

"Winter, you were exceptional even as a private. Your seniors must’ve recognized you as the best among the juniors," I said, my eyes burning with ambition as I flattered him.

Winter exchanged a subtle glance with Altair, who gave me a perplexed look before leaving the room.

Even their lukewarm reactions couldn’t extinguish the flames of my ambition.

***

"Salvia."

"Hmm?"

When I returned to the platoon, the first to greet me was Aquila. He glanced at me with his usual calm demeanor, his voice low as he asked, "You’re not too tired, are you?"

"Oh, the writing lessons? That’s not hard at all."

Seeing his face, I felt a sudden urge to talk, so I began rambling.

"I still can’t get over how strange it is to read that letter as ‘R.’ It just doesn’t feel right—I want to pronounce it as ‘P.’ And don’t even get me started on that letter that’s supposed to be ‘B.’ The uppercase and lowercase versions feel like they’re swapped. It’s so weird!"

As I complained about the Adolph Empire’s alphabet, comparing it to the English one I’d learned in my previous life, Aquila stood silently, patiently listening until I finished.

"Anyway, that’s how it went today."

"Sounds like you’re not finding it difficult to learn," he remarked.

"No, I actually enjoy it," I admitted.

Even if reading and writing weren’t particularly useful in the Border Defense Army, I knew I’d need these skills after discharge. Having Winter as a meticulous teacher was, surprisingly, a good thing.

"And Winter teaches really well," I added.

At those words, Aquila’s amber eyes focused on me with an intensity that made me pause. It was then I realized I’d made a slight mistake.

"I could teach you better," he muttered.

‘…Oops.’

I recognized this sensitivity of his—it stemmed from the trauma of losing his fellow recruits. Aquila sought reassurance that his presence was essential to me, as though proving that the bonds he’d formed hadn’t been lost.

This meant he was particularly sensitive when it seemed like I didn’t need him.

Instinctively, I launched into damage control.

"Of course, that’s obvious! I mean, you know me way better than Winter does, don’t you?"

"That’s true," he replied, his tone softening slightly.

"And I definitely prefer you over Winter. But this situation is just unavoidable. I’m only doing what I’m told. The person I really rely on is you."

Fortunately, Aquila’s expression began to relax. Though his eyes still held their usual intensity, I could tell his mood had improved.

‘Once you get to know him, reading his expressions becomes so easy.’

I wondered why I’d ever thought he was so expressionless. If you paid close attention, his eyes told you everything—they shifted ever so subtly depending on his mood.

"Winter isn’t making you uncomfortable, is he?" Aquila asked quietly, clearly concerned that Winter might be using the lessons as an excuse to harass me.

"No, not at all. He’s a master at managing juniors. Before I even realize it, I’ve absorbed everything he’s taught me."

I stopped short of mentioning how Winter seemed hell-bent on dragging me deeper into the world of academia. Instead, I continued, "Anyway, he’s definitely elite at everything he does. Not just in one field—he’s exemplary across the board. It’s kind of amazing. Like, his face, for example."

"…What?"

"His face…?"

"Ha…"

Aquila let out a deep sigh, his gaze sharpening again into a glare.

‘Wait, what? What did I say wrong this time?’