UCT Ch 3
by toujours“Richard Ashwood! The world’s best pilot is right here in the Bringerton Air Force!”
Diana, who was about to turn around to take the next order, stopped in her tracks upon hearing the term ‘White Falcon.’
‘White Falcon’ undoubtedly referred to her past self, Fernan Lowell. However, there was a contradiction in the man’s words she couldn’t understand.
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Someone better than the ‘White Falcon’?
‘Is there such a person?’
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…Honestly, she felt a bit provoked. Diana’s usually gentle eyebrows twitched subtly.
Though she had vowed to live a life unconnected to her past, that didn’t mean she could accept her skills being belittled.
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Fernan Lowell was the best pilot, and he would continue to be so. It was a deep-seated belief even she wasn’t fully conscious of.
“Richard Ashwood! The world’s best pilot is right here in the Bringerton Air Force!”
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“No way. Ashwood is a great pilot, but he’s still far from matching that 77-plane record. It’s a record that won’t be broken unless there’s a major war.”
‘Of course. That record will remain unbroken for a long time to come.’
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Diana barely suppressed the corners of her mouth from turning up.
‘By the way, Richard Ashwood?’
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She remembered the fighter pilot who had distinguished himself in the war with Yalten a few years back. How could she not? For a week straight, he set down one plane after another, and the whole of Bringerton was buzzing about him.
‘Was his name Richard, though?’
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While Diana was rummaging through her memories, the men who had been discussing who would win if Fernan Lowell and Richard Ashwood fought suddenly started talking about something else.
“Obviously, Ashwood is better. His records were all captured by gun cameras. But the ‘White Falcon’ likely had his cronies helping out. Mind-melting? That’s why.”
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The man spat as he argued that Fernan Lowell’s records were inflated. The man across from him agreed.
“Well, there’s no proof that Fernan Lowell took down all those planes himself.”
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‘What?’
Diana felt a surge of anger from within.
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If there was one thing she couldn’t stand, it was the claim that her kill count was exaggerated. She would swear to the sky that she never inflated or fabricated her records.
For someone like Fernan, who was noble to the bone, even thinking about doing such a thing for records was a matter of pride.
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‘Not knowing what it was like to fly a fighter in an era when parachutes were barely decent.’
Diana silently seethed with anger, clenching her teeth. At that moment, sailors from across the room called out loudly to her.
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“Hey! Could you refill our glasses?”
“I’ll be right there. Please wait!”
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‘Right. Don’t let their nonsense get to you, just do your job.’
As she hurried over to take the order, someone from behind started picking a fight.
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“No, Diana, serve us first! We’ve been waiting here!”
“Hey, you bastards! No cutting in line!”
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“What? This piece of shit. Who said we cut the line?”
‘Sigh. Here we go again.’
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Diana wiped the sweat off her forehead with a handkerchief, letting out a sigh. She was dealing with soldiers, thinking it was karma from her past life, but when the army and navy started their squabble, it was quite a headache.
It looked like it would be a tough day.
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🌷🌷🌷
As she returned to the booth to pour more beer, a squabble started behind her.
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Her uncle and aunt were too busy handling the kitchen and the counter to notice.
“Hey, stop cutting in line and get lost.”
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“What are you talking about? I can’t listen to these ground-pounders.”
A few more childish insults were exchanged, making Diana sigh internally.
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‘Now, it’s time for fists to fly.’
At the same time, bang. The sound of a chair being thrown to the ground marked the start of a fight.
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‘As expected. Can’t they go a single day without fighting?’
Diana stopped pouring beer and quickly moved towards the source of the fight. She was already in a bad mood from hearing her past abilities being demeaned.
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The scene was chaotic when she got there. The customers, or rather, the ‘troublemakers,’ were not stopping the fight but rather forming a circle around the brawling pair, cheering and whistling.
“Fight outside, not here!”
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Diana pushed through the onlookers.
Both men were so drunk they were swinging at air.
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They seemed oblivious to Diana’s shouts. Their fists, tightly gripping each other’s necks, were turning bright red. The sight of them, wobbly like invertebrates, made Diana frown.
Soon, with a crash, both men fell onto a table.
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Sausages and chicken legs spun through the air in what could have been an acrobatic performance worthy of a perfect score. Clang! The floor was now littered with shards of broken plates and food.
‘Those damn fools.’
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Diana’s face flushed with anger. Their behavior was more like that of street thugs than soldiers, and it was unbearable to watch.
‘I’ll make them pay for the broken plates, even if I have to go to their barracks.’
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Gritting her teeth, Diana elbowed the ribs of the men who were encouraging the fight with their whistles. The men, caught off guard, screamed in pain and staggered back.
She then rebuked everyone in a loud voice that didn’t match her small frame.
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“Are you all here for a show? Why aren’t you stopping them? Move before everything here gets ruined!”
[You’ll end up with shredded hands if you try to pick a rose thinking it’s just a flower.]
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This was a warning given by regulars to those who fell in love with Diana at first sight.
She was usually calm and gentle, but she was merciless to those who disrupted the atmosphere of the tavern or tried to flirt with her.
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Moreover, Ben Green, who treated her like his own daughter, was not someone to be trifled with either.
As a result, while many held feelings for Diana, none dared to confess or misbehave with her.
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“What are you doing? Why aren’t you stopping them!”
At Diana’s commanding shout, the customers moved in unison.
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“Yes, as you command.”
People rushed to pull apart the two fighting men. Fortunately, both were so drunk that they could be separated easily.
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“I’ll charge you for the broken plates, the broken chair legs, the plates, the beer, and the food.”
Diana checked the rank and names of the two men, then meticulously recorded the compensation details in the thick ledger of debts.
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Her eyebrows, which usually gave her a gentle look, were now sharply raised, and the sudden chill in her expression made everyone around her tense up.
“If you fight here one more time, I’ll ban all your comrades from entering as a matter of collective responsibility, so keep that in mind.”
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Then, the customers started to whine to Diana.
“Oh, Goddess Diana, what kind of era is this to use collective punishment? There’s nowhere else that serves decent dark beer, so please don’t be so strict. Other places sell beer that tastes like piss.”
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“Everyone be quiet. Instead of stopping a fight happening right in the middle of the shop, you were whistling and betting, encouraging it. You should be ashamed as soldiers of Bringerton.”
At her harsh rebuke, the soldiers fell silent.
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Diana, sighing heavily, began to clean up the debris scattered on the floor. Some who had been watching decided to help, hoping to win her favor, but they, too, retreated under her cold, piercing gaze.
“Move out of the way, you’re in the way.”
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“Yes, ma’am.”
Men, really. She knew what they were trying to do to impress her, which made it all the more pathetic.
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‘Isn’t there a real, mature man around?’
Diana grumbled as she adeptly picked up the fallen omelet from the floor.
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[The Dancing Mermaid] started to quiet down after one in the morning.
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Her uncle was checking the day’s sales while going through the ledger, and her aunt was cleaning up the messy interior, preparing to close.
Only after lowering the shop’s shutter and locking it were they ready to head home.
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They walked home, which was about a ten-minute walk away, with Diana leading the way and her uncle and aunt following behind.
The quiet streets of Campton were filled with the murmur of their conversation.
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Topics like Mr. Thomas from the bakery next door complaining about the noise (there was a feeling that a fight might break out between Thomas and her uncle soon), and the tuxedo cat that usually roamed the streets not being seen lately were the kind that naturally brought a smile to Diana’s face.
However, the warm atmosphere didn’t last long. Aunt Gilda hesitated for a moment before quietly bringing up a concern to her uncle.
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“…They say things are not good again between Arke and Juom. There’s talk of another war.”
Diana recalled the conversation she overheard in the tavern earlier about Arke’s mysterious intentions.
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Her uncle scoffed at Aunt Gilda’s worry.
“Eh. Even if those Arke fools are idiots, it hasn’t even been thirty years since the last mess. They wouldn’t dare start another war.”
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“They might find the second time easier since they’ve done it once.”
“Nah. They wouldn’t dare. I guarantee it. As long as Bringerton stands, there won’t be such an event. Besides, Arke and Juom clashing is nothing new. We should just focus on our own affairs.”
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Diana’s light green eyes darkened to a deeper shade of green. Even on this summer night, a mysterious chill ran through her hands.
It had been ten years since she remembered her past life. Her sharp intuition, which she had consciously suppressed all this time, awakened.
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Her uncle might be right. Arke and Juom had never been on good terms. But what if there was more to it?
What if it was a prelude to a larger war?
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Knowing Emperor Dietrich I’s temperament, she couldn’t help but suspect.
Dietrich was hungry for blood. He was far more war-crazed than his father, Ezekiel III.
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[Fernan. You will never escape me. Even after you die, I can find you. Because I know everything.]
She remembered the words the Emperor had spoken to her in her past life. At that moment, her heart pounded wildly, and her mind went blank.
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Diana, who had been two steps ahead, stumbled, losing her balance.