My Desertion Would Be Faster Than Heros’ Obsession

What Is a "Love Letter"?

The "love letter" system was a peculiar invention, seemingly created by someone who simply swapped one word in the Korean military’s infamous "Letters from the Heart" system. Despite its romantic name, it was a wildcard that could wreak havoc when used correctly.

The empire implemented this system to pretend they cared about the Arkons defending the borders, quelling potential unrest or rebellion. Instead of addressing the root problem—the magical contract—they encouraged us to write "honest opinions," perhaps to pat themselves on the back for being such "open leaders."

A "love letterbox" sat outside the company commander’s office, a shabby metal container crudely attached to the wall. Officially, it was said that any notes placed inside were sent directly to the battalion commander.

In truth, the letters never made it that far, as the company commander usually intercepted them. But if written skillfully, a love letter still had the potential to cause a significant stir.

For example, writing something inflammatory like [Execute the Crown Prince on the Guillotine] would result in an immediate investigation to find the culprit, who’d undoubtedly end up in the stockade. Similarly, a more mundane note like [Gagne keeps spilling laundry on the floor and making us wash it again. He punishes the entire platoon for even the faintest noise at night. Please help us.] wouldn’t be much use either. The commander would try to cover it up, and the author would almost certainly be discovered.

But there was one type of note that could cause chaos: [I’m considering a mass shooting.]

If a letter like that were submitted, it would send shockwaves through the company, then the battalion, and then up the chain of command. The higher-ups would scramble to investigate, eager to uncover the unit’s issues to improve their own standing. Ignoring such a note would be impossible; failing to act on it could lead to a catastrophe reaching the imperial family’s ears.

It was horrifying to even imagine the fallout from such a note. A single letter like that could obliterate a unit in the same way the Crown Prince’s visit would. And yet, this was precisely the system I planned to use.

Of course, this plan was a gamble. If the letter was written poorly or its authorship uncovered, it could cost me my head. But if done right, it would weaken Gagne’s grip on the unit.

I carefully tore a page from the supply notebook and began writing consonants with my left hand. Karon was tasked with writing the vowels, as we had to disguise our handwriting as much as possible.

"Alright…" I muttered, finishing my part. Karon quickly took over, and I kept watch while he added the vowels.

Once Karon was done, he handed me the letter. I folded it neatly several times, tucking it securely into my hand.

"Time to deliver it," I whispered.

The hallway leading to the company commander’s office was empty. I signaled for Karon to scout the far end while I approached the letterbox. My hands trembled as I slipped the folded paper into the slot. The moment it fell in, I turned and whispered urgently, "Let’s go!"

Karon and I bolted from the hallway, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Hah… hah… I swear, I almost died from the stress," I panted once we were safe. "Karon, remember—we were just chatting during this time, got it?"

"Y-yes!" Karon stammered.

"And if someone asks what we were talking about?"

"Uh… what do we say?"

"I don’t know, maybe that we were complaining about the seniors."

"Uh… wouldn’t that get us in trouble?"

"Fine. Just say we were talking about the menu for today."

"Understood!"

"Good. No matter what, this stays between us."

After parting ways with Karon, I made sure to dispose of the pen we used and scrubbed my hands thoroughly to eliminate any traces of ink. Everything had been handled perfectly.

Now, all that was left was to wait for the bomb to go off.

***

Thump, thump.

The company commander habitually tapped the love letterbox as he exited his office, a routine gesture ingrained over time.

“…What’s this?”@@novelbin@@

He paused. The sound emanating from the box was different from usual—it was the unmistakable thud of a letter inside.

"Could someone have actually written a love letter?"

Stunned, the commander quickly retrieved the key from his pocket and unlocked the box, his heart pounding in anticipation.

As the box creaked open, a single piece of paper, folded several times, came into view.

“This… this must be nothing,” he muttered to himself, attempting to calm his nerves.

Surely, it was nothing important. Most of the time, the letters were harmless—grumblings about the Border Defense Army or requests to improve the meal options.

But as the commander unfolded the letter, his eyes fell upon jagged, uneven handwriting, clearly scrawled with a left hand.

He gasped.

The words on the paper made him freeze.

"I’ve decided to cross the border due to Sergeant Gagne’s harassment."

The commander’s face turned pale, and he clenched his stomach as he yelled, "Emergency!"

A nearby sergeant, alarmed by the cry, rushed over.

"Gather all the platoon leaders immediately! Emergency! Emergency! You’ve all failed me!" the commander bellowed, his face now red with both anger and panic.

***

Not long after, Alpha Platoon’s leader stood before the commander, his face ashen.

"The company commander is extremely disappointed in Alpha Platoon."

"Yes, sir. Your disappointment is… understandable," he stammered.

Elliot and Taro, the officers in charge of Alpha Platoon, were equally pale, their expressions void of all color.

"H-how could this happen…" Elliot muttered as he reread the letter, though the words remained unchanged.

"This… this is insane!"

The content wasn’t just alarming—it was utterly unthinkable. It didn’t say "I’m deserting." It said, "I’m crossing the border," which made it even more chilling.

"Of all the times… right before my discharge…"

With just one month left until discharge, Elliot was acutely sensitive to anything that might jeopardize his safety. The saying "Even falling leaves can be dangerous in your final days" seemed to have come to life in the worst possible way.

While the letter’s author would undoubtedly face severe consequences if they attempted such a thing, the fallout from this situation reaching higher-ups could lead to an investigation that would shake the battalion—or even the division—to its core.

"What even is this?!"

Elliot struggled to find the right term. It wasn’t quite desertion.

"Is it… border abandonment?"

Remembering that the border led to the northern reaches of the Adolph Empire, he thought, "Border defection? Northern escape?"

Whatever it was, they needed to prevent it at all costs.

Taro, his dark circles deeper than ever, leaned against the wall, looking utterly drained.

"This unit is cursed…"

Since being assigned to the 18th Company, he had been completely burned out by the "Crown Prince Incident," and his energy had never fully recovered. He had been lying low ever since, practically living as a ghost in the officer’s quarters.

And now, this?

"The unit is cursed. There’s no other explanation."

***

Meanwhile, Alpha Platoon was in chaos.

Even as Gagne cowered in shame after being berated by his superiors, the corporals wore grim expressions.

"Who could it be?"

"The handwriting feels serious. This isn’t a joke."

Despite their hushed conversations, they couldn’t identify the letter’s author.

"The handwriting looks like it was done with a left hand. It’ll be tough to track."

"What if we have everyone write the same sentence with their left hand?"

"That’s blatant profiling. We can’t do that."

"Then what are we supposed to do?"

After much deliberation, Leon, Brave, Plato, and Zara gave up on identifying the culprit through handwriting.

Even the infamous Cool Mint Ice Trio of the 78th couldn’t provide an answer.

"Winter, do you have any idea?"

"No, sir," Winter replied calmly.

"If even Winter doesn’t know, there’s no way we’ll figure it out…" Plato muttered, rubbing his temples.

Zara glanced toward our group and said, "Recently, Gagne disciplined Milphy for breaking protocol, and Blair and Topio messed up during an assignment… But the scope is too wide to narrow it down."

"That’s not the point."

Taro, looking utterly exhausted, finally spoke up.

"What matters is making sure no one else even thinks about doing something like this again."

"Yeah. If someone actually crosses the border and gets themselves killed, the entire unit will implode," Elliot said, his face still pale as he glanced at Gagne.

At that moment, someone I had been carefully working on for weeks stepped forward.

"Don’t worry. We’ll handle this from now on," Altair said smoothly, draping an arm over Winter and Yuri’s shoulders.