UCT Ch 13
by toujoursDiana thought about the bastard, no, Lieutenant Ashwood, on her way to the restaurant. No, she cursed him.
‘Come to think of it, does he have Arke blood in his veins?’
What was more surprising than the fact that the man was a Mindmelder was his skill at mindmelding. There was no finesse, but when it came to subduing and overpowering someone, he was far superior to even the royal Mindmelders. He must be from some well-known family, though whose bloodline it was, she didn’t know.
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‘…If he had been born in Arke, he would have lived in luxury all his life.’
But aside from his talent, it was clear he hadn’t learned any mindmelding etiquette. The first thing taught about mindmelding in Arke is respect for the other person. The man’s mindmelding was at the level of mental torture. In any case, it was Diana’s misfortune to become the direct subordinate of such a talented bastard. Diana lifted her head, took a deep breath in and out, trying to calm her uneasy and anxious heart.
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“Sergeant Green, are you really okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine.”
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“You said you’re fine, so you can’t throw up after dinner.”
“I won’t throw up.”
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“I’m joking. Don’t force yourself to stay here if you feel sick, go to the bathroom if you need to.”
Owen awkwardly laughed and nudged Diana’s shoulder with his elbow.
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The restaurant was quite empty, giving them some leisure. It seemed the two had arrived late. Mechanics in work clothes were eating in the corner. The food on each tray looked appetizing enough to make one forget they had been uneasy just moments before. It showed how well the air force was treated in Bringerton. Of course, the problem was that there was a high chance this meal could be their last supper.
As Owen and Diana were about to get in line, a woman with short brown hair joined them. She had single-lidded eyes, a calm expression, and a strong, dark complexion. Her badge on the right chest indicated she was a Second Lieutenant. She playfully nudged Owen’s side.
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“Owen, is this the new recruit in our squadron, the rookie?”
“Ah, Bryce. Where have you been, leaving all the work to me? Sergeant Green, this is Second Lieutenant Bryce from Delta Squadron. Say hello.”
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Owen stepped aside to let Diana and Bryce greet each other. Diana saluted the Lieutenant in front of her.
“Good evening.”
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“…No need for the salute. Anyway, I heard you took down a Carpe-108?”
“Yes.”
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“How was it, dealing with it using an Armada-13?”
“…Ah-.”
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As she turned to answer, a loud voice suddenly rang out.
“Move up, don’t commoners even know how to stand in line properly?”
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Bryce’s expression hardened instantly. She glared at the man behind her. There stood a group of pilots with scarves around their necks, each looking at Owen, Bryce, and Diana with contempt.
“Moreover, a smuggler and a petty thief getting a commission in wartime. It’s the end times, truly. Don’t get me wrong, I have no objection to commoners becoming officers. There’s a flow to the world, after all. But it’s not for trash like you to be commissioned.”
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Hearing this sarcasm, Diana quickly looked around. She realized that here, scarves were less about keeping warm and more a symbol of nobility, each embroidered with their family emblem. With this realization, a cold contempt ignited within her. Whether past or present, noble sons were always so alike. Even with the nation on the brink of collapse, their behavior was truly pathetic.
“Lieutenant.”
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As Lieutenant Owen tried to mediate the one-sided argument, another quarrel started from behind.
“By the way, is that the new commoner member? The one who became an instant star thanks to a crashed Arke fighter? Well, having a new poster girl isn’t bad for morale.”
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Maybe more people will enlist just to see that pretty face? The man muttered while glaring up and down at Diana. The atmosphere in the restaurant turned icy. Even the nobles standing further away seemed burdened, thinking,
‘How do we handle this?‘
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After all, they were comrades in arms. The man’s behavior was clearly crossing a line.
“Let’s move forward.”
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Owen sent the silent duo forward to end the situation for now. The instigator seemed to realize he had gone too far; he coughed and looked away, feigning indifference. Bryce muttered a curse under her breath.
“Still thinks it’s 200 years ago. These pig-like noble bastards.”
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🌷🌷🌷
Owen whispered quietly while twirling pasta with his fork.
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“If they want to get riled up, let them. No need to respond and draw more attention. They don’t usually care about us anyway. Bryce, they’re just jealous because you’ve been doing well lately.”
Bryce snorted.
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“Still, the air force is too noble-centric. They act like the base is their private social club.”
“Can’t help it since there are so many nobles in the air force. Most of those guys with scarves probably have their own planes. For people like me, who was just a mailman, or Bryce, who was involved in smuggling… I mean, brokering, there’s no way commoners would get to fly planes.”
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Diana’s ears perked up at Owen’s casual remark.
“Were you a mailman?”
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“Er… yeah. I used to handle international mail, but I was ‘volunteered’ the moment the war broke out.”
“Me too.”
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“Bryce, you only came to avoid jail. It’s different for me.”
“Judicial deals are still legitimate deals.”
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The two started chattering away. So Lieutenant Owen was a mailman, huh. Indeed, how many among the people here were veterans like Ashwood who had experienced war?
Everyone sat down to eat. Halfway through their meals, Lieutenant Ashwood appeared in front of the serving counter. Diana’s gaze involuntarily turned towards him. Her gentle eyes hardened at the sight of the dark shadow.
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‘Looks like he got up after sleeping for at least 10 minutes.’
She mocked him silently in her mind. His freshly shaved jaw was now smooth, and his unkempt hair was neatly combed back. Even his drab brown uniform was sharply tailored. From afar, he looked like a handsome man with aristocratic flair. If they had met in another time and space, she might have been impressed by his looks alone. But now, to Diana, Richard Ashwood was just an odious human.
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After getting his food, the man sat alone at an empty spot to eat. The nobles seated nearby glanced at him, clearly nervous but not daring to approach. It was an awkward sight for onlookers. Then, one thing caught her eye: Lieutenant Ashwood wasn’t wearing a scarf.
“……”
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“The Lieutenant is eating alone again.”
Owen murmured sympathetically, but Bryce clicked her tongue and shook her head.
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“Leave him be.”
“Why, it would be nice to eat together.”
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“…I’d rather not eat with that guy. I feel like I’d lose my appetite.”
“…Hey, that’s harsh-.”
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Bryce stuck out her tongue, shaking her head.
“It’s just too uncomfortable to eat with him. He’s like a war machine, sometimes it feels eerie on a human level.”
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“’Eerie on a human level‘? Isn’t that too harsh for someone who’s saved us many times?”
“You say that, but aren’t you missing Captain Yanatol?”
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The two started bickering again.
“But why don’t the other noble pilots greet the Lieutenant?”
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Diana’s cautious question stopped their bickering instantly.
“You don’t know anything, do you?”
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Bryce gave Diana a strange look.
“…Something happened?”
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“…You don’t know about the Black Sheep of the Ashwood family?”
“…No.”
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Diana closed her mouth, checking if her mind melding channel was securely closed. Then she looked around; thankfully, no one was close enough to overhear.
‘Black Sheep of the Ashwood family?’
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It was news to her, but it was understandable since Diana had no interest in the gossip among nobles. She found learning about actors or popular dances like the foxtrot in the Federation more fulfilling and enjoyable.
Maybe it was because she had no illusions about the lives of nobles. Nobles, whether in Arke or Bringerton, were all about perpetuating their lineage. They were hypocrites, acting noble on the surface but vulgar behind the scenes. Diana was tired of such stories. If she hadn’t had knowledge from her past life, she might have enjoyed their gossip too.
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Of course, most people in Bringerton, unlike Diana, loved royal and socialite gossip. In the Federation, actors entertained the people, but in Bringerton, the royalty and nobles were the popular entertainment.
“…Are you really from Bringerton?”
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Bryce clicked her tongue, eyeing Diana. Cold sweat ran down Diana’s back. Seeing Diana’s awkward smile, Bryce whispered in her ear like reciting a code.
“The Lieutenant, he’s the illegitimate son of Count Ashwood.”
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“…Oh.”
“The man who supposedly valued honor more than life, at an age past forty, suddenly brought home a boy about ten years old, claiming him as his son. His eldest, Frederick, was sixteen then, they say. The story of the countess fainting over this is quite famous.”
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“……”
“Anyway, after coming to the count’s house, the Lieutenant has always been an outsider in noble society. He started to be somewhat accepted after gaining fame from the Yaltan War a few years ago, but he’s still in a gray area.”
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‘Gray area.’
Diana frowned bitterly.
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Throughout history, the military has been the most popular career for noble bastards, hoping to secure a place in high society through military merit. How could one blame such ambition?
Now everything made sense, like pieces of a puzzle fitting together. Why the Count’s second son would fly with commoners like Bryce, Owen, and herself. He was noble, but not fully noble. Richard was ostracized by both sides.
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Understanding the situation, Diana nodded. But then, both Bryce’s and Owen’s expressions, sitting across from her, looked off. They were staring into space with faces pale as if they might vomit.
“Are you okay?”
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As Bryce asked, a deep, solemn voice came from behind her.
“It seems you’re having an interesting conversation, but I need you for a moment. Get up, Sergeant Green.”
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