My Beloved, Whom I Desire to Kill - 315

The sight of the woman anxiously waiting for him alone at the base flickered before his eyes, slowly transforming into the little girl who used to pace restlessly in this very spot.

She was wearing Edwin’s sweater over her pajamas like a robe, and his officer’s jacket on top of that. Still, she always looked cold to him because she had left all the jacket buttons undone.

He stopped the child, who was nervously stamping her feet, and methodically buttaoned up the jacket one by one. Giselle asked him, her voice trembling with fear:

—Ajussi, why don’t you close the door?

The dam’s entrance was still open, and it seemed to frighten her. She wouldn’t take her eyes off it, convinced that enemy soldiers would flood in the moment she looked away.

—Because there are still people who haven’t evacuated yet.

—Tell them to hurry! We’re all going to die.

But she still wasn’t reassured, even after the door was firmly shut. Far from lying down on the makeshift bed or even sitting still, she clung to Edwin in fear whenever she heard noise from outside or someone came down from the tower to report on the situation.

And she was wearing two hats on her head.

Giselle loved the girls’ woolen pom-pom hat Edwin had procured—a small consolation for her hair, which she had cut short herself, determined to be a soldier—so much that she wouldn’t take it off, even to sleep. But sometime later, she started wearing her steel helmet over the pretty hat, making it hard to see.

The unit members found Giselle adorable, calling her —Little Major,— as she walked around with the oversized helmet obscuring her eyes and the sleeves of the officer’s jacket with Major insignia flapping around her arms. To Edwin, however, it wasn’t simply cute. Both things were survival strategies.

—We’re safe now, so how about we take this off?

—No, I don’t want to. I don’t know where a bullet might come from.

—The dam will stop all the bullets for us.

—But what if the dam collapses?

—That won’t happen.

The enemy at the time lacked the necessary technology. Even if this concrete mass were to collapse above their heads, the helmet would be flattened like paper, so there was no logical reason for her to keep wearing it anyway.

But if just a hat is enough to calm the child, then I should let her be. Yet, he still tried to stop her because the piece of metal was so heavy it would give even an adult a stiff neck.

Rational persuasion was useless against irrational fear. Edwin finally gave up the struggle and resorted to a trick.

—Little Major, Gas Mask Drill. Commence.

—Commencing!

Giselle immediately took off the helmet, which she had stubbornly worn like a snail carrying its shell. While she was blinded, struggling to put on the children’s gas mask retrieved from her backpack, he stealthily opened the crate, slipped the helmet inside, and closed it.

Then he crossed his arms and pretended he had been watching her wrestle with the tight-fitting mask all along, feigning ignorance.

The moment she properly put it on, her round eyes behind the goggles swiveled around, glancing at Edwin. She was saying something from behind the gas mask, but it was muffled and hard to hear, like listening underwater.

Where is my helmet?

In fact, it’s more accurate to say he pretended not to hear, as it was obvious she was asking this.

—Ten seconds. Pass, but not your personal best.

The competitive spark that ignited in the pair of glass-like eyes behind the goggles was like a light switch being flipped. At the same time, her obsession with the helmet seemed to turn off.

Giselle swiftly tore off the difficult-to-wear gas mask. Just as Edwin had predicted, she didn’t look for the helmet.

—Again!

She was determined to beat her personal best and redeem herself.

—No.

—Why?

—Because you inhaled the poison gas and died.

—Aw…

—How long did I say you had to keep it on?

—…Until you give permission, Ajussi. Or until the other misters take theirs off and are still alive.

—If you knew, why did you take it off before I gave permission?

As the drill, which started as a game, began to turn serious, the smile faded from his face, even when facing the child who was his only joy in this terrible land.

You should be learning how to become an adult in school, not how to survive a poison gas attack on the battlefield.

Her body recovered quickly, but her mind seemed to regress. It couldn’t be helped, living in a place where gunshots and artillery fire rang out daily.

That’s why whenever Edwin tried to send her home, Giselle would cry, cling to him, or go on a hunger strike, just like when he’d tried to send her to an orphanage. It was maddening—she would absolutely refuse to believe him when he told her it wasn’t an orphanage, but his own house, and that he would join her there later.

Should I just send her by force? Once she arrived and saw his house with her own eyes, she would believe him.

He dropped the idea because it wasn’t the kind of home Giselle imagined. He worried she would suffer the shock of being dropped into another world before the trauma of the war had even faded.

Whenever he had a moment—whether on duty or lying in bed—he would agonize over it, sometimes concluding that a battlefield, where someone could teach her how to adapt, might actually be better.

Looking back, he realized those might have all been pathetic excuses.

—Ta-da! Natalia is alive again!

If you could just die and come back to life like a phoenix whenever you wanted, I wouldn’t be having these worries.

Giselle died and revived repeatedly, putting on and taking off the gas mask until Edwin finally declared her —nine seconds. He thought she had forgotten all about the helmet until…

—That was excellent. Let’s stop now. Want a chocolate as a reward?

—Yes, please! But where is my safe hat?

Having navigated everything from his family to the aristocratic society and the military, Edwin was seasoned by all manner of difficult human types and had never faced much trouble in handling people. However, he was forced to humbly accept that all those difficult adversaries were nothing compared to this ten-year-old child.

A child was unpredictable. One moment, she was playing vigorously without the helmet, and the next, she was frantic, stamping her feet and terrified because her helmet was missing.

—Look closely. None of the other misters are wearing one, and I’m not either. Are you going to be the only one wearing it?

—Then you should wear one too, Ajussi. Hurry up.

—So stubborn…

Giselle seemed to relax after she started following Edwin, but around that time, her anxiety grew more intense with each passing day. Although it was usually fine, her panic would surface whenever an air raid struck or Edwin had to leave to command a mission.

His mind settled on the simple conclusion that it was due to not escaping the battlefield, but his gut told him otherwise. She hadn’t been this frantic during the time she navigated that hellscape alone.

Back then, standing paralyzed in fear or voicing her terror would have been a luxury that risked inviting death.

Some soldiers, who had been composed on the front line with death chasing them constantly, would break down crying or lose their minds only after returning to the safety of the barracks. Edwin thought Giselle was the same.

And did she even have the energy to feel emotions back then?

It was true that her visible struggle with the emotion of fear was more childlike than the way she’d initially recounted gruesome experiences without any feeling at all. Thus, her restless behavior seemed a sign that Giselle was returning to normalcy.

Therefore, Giselle’s anxiety was a measure of her sense of security. Her constant expression of fear to him was, paradoxically, proof that she trusted Edwin enough to do so.

—Ajussi, what if the enemy tries to open that door?

Although it was unlikely, Edwin wanted to give her a serious answer, so he posed the same question to the soldier guarding the door.

—Those bastards…. just try to open it!

The soldier confidently aimed his rifle at the door and made firing sounds with his mouth. Hawkins, in those days, was also young, witty, and playful. Of course, his mouth was as coarse as his age and rank dictated.

—I’ll turn them into minc…..

He barely remembered that if he failed to guard his tongue in front of the child, his fate would be worse than the enemy’s, and he quickly corrected himself.

—I’ll give them a good spanking and send them running.

—But what if you’re slower than the enemy, Ajussi?

—Kid, what do you take me for…..

—Haha! She’s got the right idea, doesn’t she? Don’t worry, kid, you’ve got this Ajussi right here. I’ll take care of it.

Another soldier chuckled at his comrade being slighted by a child, puffed out his chest, and proudly pointed to himself with his thumb, but he was soon entangled by the child as well.

What if more and more enemies keep coming? What if we run out of bullets? What if we run out of grenades? What do we do then?

With those questions, Giselle effectively pushed all the —Mister Soldiers— to the virtual front lines, then clung to Edwin. Looking back, —clinging— was exactly the right word.

—You shouldn’t go out to fight, Ajussi. Stay with me.

—Why? If the enemy comes, I have to fight to protect you.

—The other misters said they’ll do that.

The soldiers burst into laughter at her audacious comment, and the sound echoed through the tunnel.

—Whoa, listen to her talk! So, it’s fine if we die, as long as the Major is safe, is that it?

—That’s harsh. Little one, go play tag with the Major now.

Edwin inwardly felt a swell of pride, even as he playfully pinched the nose of the impertinent Giselle.

How could I not love this blindly devoted puppy?