Inside the damp restroom.
Shaaaaa...
Click.
He turned off the faucet with his fingertips.
“......Hoo.”
He raised his head and looked into the mirror.
The emotion reflected on his face was irritation.
The water running down his jaw gathered into droplets before falling.
He absentmindedly wiped it away, then ran a hand through his hair with an irritated motion.
The body reflected in the mirror was covered in scars that were uncommon for a Superhuman.
They were marks he had long since grown accustomed to, but a question suddenly crossed his mind.
‘Most of the wounds I received recently regenerated without leaving scars. Then why have the older scars remained?’
Perhaps the reason Jin Crow always wore black gloves was to hide the countless scars covering his hands and the backs of them.
The thought came to him unconsciously.
But he did not dwell on it for long.
After all, he had lived an exceptionally harsh life.
Whatever the reason, what mattered now was not the scars on his body, but the headaches that kept growing worse.
‘Is it because I stopped taking the awakening drugs?’
It was an entirely reasonable suspicion.
In fact, after returning from Mercato, he had avoided awakening drugs as much as possible, following the military doctor's advice.
Why keep taking something that wasn't good for him?
Besides, although he had brought back quite a generous supply, he found himself reluctant to use them when he thought about the hell that lay ahead.
For several months, there had been no major discomfort.
Occasionally, muscle aches and fatigue would wash over him, but that was all.
They never seriously interfered with his daily life.
The real problem was the headaches that had persisted for the past few months.
‘There isn't the slightest sign of them disappearing.’
Normally, they were bearable.
But whenever he tried to sleep, they became overwhelming.
He had managed them with alcohol for about a month, but recently even that had become ineffective.
As he dried himself off and put on his shirt, he thought,
‘I should visit the infirmary.’
Whether to get medicine for the headaches or find the cause.
The moment he admitted that either was necessary, he finished his lecture without hesitation and headed for the infirmary.
Thinking about it, this was his first visit since being assigned here.
He wandered around a little, but thanks to the holographic guide signs scattered throughout the academy, he reached the infirmary without much trouble.
Contrary to his concerns about running into bothersome instructors or cadets, the path to the infirmary was completely deserted.
Perhaps that was only natural.
A Superhuman's regenerative ability was fundamentally different from that of an ordinary person.
Unless it was during combat training, it was rare for either cadets or instructors to suffer injuries serious enough to require a visit to the infirmary.
Creeeak.
Thinking that, he opened the infirmary door.
A strangely familiar back immediately caught his eye.
“Haa... I'm fucking exhausted.”
The man's low mutter sounded as though he were grinding the words out between his teeth, carrying overwhelming fatigue and subtle irritation.
Green hair covered the back of his head.
With his well-developed yet youthful build, Jin Crow initially mistook him for a cadet.
But upon seeing the white coat he wore, he quickly recognized him as a military doctor.
“Excuse me.”
“Ah, shit. Who is it this ti... Huh.”
The man turned around.
Jin Crow took in his appearance.
The snake tattoo on the back of his neck.
The piercings in his ears and lips.
None of them looked like something a soldier would have.
Yet what caught Jin Crow's attention was not his appearance—
but the electronic cigarette in his mouth.
‘That...’
It had absolutely no practical value.
It had been made purely for style, in the shape of a traditional tobacco pipe.
The moment he saw it, the physique of the old man he had encountered before overlapped with the figure before him.
‘Considering the bulk of his clothes... it's almost identical.’
Since he had been wearing a plague doctor mask, Jin Crow couldn't compare the size of his head.
But at the very least, his physique was almost identical to the Viper he remembered.
Had the man noticed Jin Crow's gaze?
Or had the peaceful months made him careless?
Whichever it was, Viper—
or rather, Sigmund Nihel—
blinked several times before speaking with an indifferent expression.
“......Ahem. N-Nice to meet you, Instructor Jin Crow.”
“I haven't told you my name yet.”
“......You're quite famous.”
However, the composure he had tried to maintain crumbled pitifully beneath Jin Crow's suspicious gaze.
“Um... perhaps...”
Rolling his faintly glowing green eyes, he nervously licked the ring piercing on his lip with his tongue.
He seemed about to change the subject.
But—
“What are you doing here, Viper?”
“......Ha, fuck.”
That question—
spoken with near certainty—
completely sank him.
Viper, or rather Sigmund Nihel, belatedly realized what had betrayed him.
It was the electronic cigarette he treasured too much to throw away—
the one he only took out to smoke when no one else was around.
“I should've quit long ago... Haa.”
“Don't you think that's a little too late for regrets?”
Hearing his quiet complaint, Jin Crow let out a faint chuckle before turning around and locking the infirmary door.
Click.
With that sound, the room became completely sealed.
Looking directly at Sigmund Nihel, who looked every bit like nothing more than a delinquent teenager, he spoke.
“I think an explanation is in order. What do you think?”
“......Haa. This is exactly why I've been keeping a low profile.”
“Let's move somewhere else first.”
“Yes. Sure.”
They were, after all, inside the infirmary.
Even if no one else was there and the door was locked, one could never be too careful.
Apparently thinking the same thing, Viper closed the slightly open window before walking ahead toward the military doctor's private examination room.
Sigmund Nihel.
Team leader of the Assassination Company.
Viper.
He could only admit that he had been cornered with no way out.
Sitting down, he irritably rolled up the sleeves of his slightly oversized white coat.
His tattoo-covered forearms were revealed.
Holding the pipe to his mouth, he spoke.
“How could I refuse when it's you, Consigliere?”
His tone carried a trace of sarcasm.
Nevertheless, there was a measure of respect hidden beneath it.
Jin Crow was already familiar with Viper's stubborn and rebellious personality to some extent, so he did not bother correcting him.
The explanation that followed was remarkably simple.
“You're the Consigliere. It wouldn't make sense for you to be without protection. Coincidentally, our Godmother had me assigned here because I already had a suitable cover identity. That's all.”
When he finished speaking, Jin Crow nodded, finding the explanation reasonable enough.
There was nothing particularly strange or offensive about it.
True, it annoyed him that no one had informed him beforehand.
But considering the person involved was Viper, that level of discourtesy was well within acceptable limits.
‘Tita Zenorua. I'll have to bring her a gift the next time I visit.’
He had already realized that what she felt toward him went beyond simple goodwill.
That was why he had deliberately drawn a clear line.
A relationship based solely on mutual necessity.
He believed that was the most appropriate arrangement.
Still, Jin Crow was not cold-hearted enough to reject a gift like this.
“Then what about that identity?”
“Ah, this... Well, it's safe.”
Seeing the obvious reluctance on Viper's face to elaborate, Jin Crow briefly considered pressing further.
Then he shook his head.
‘What matters right now is how useful he is. There's no reason to create unnecessary friction.’
Whatever Viper himself thought, Jin Crow was genuinely pleased he had come.
His personality and naming sense might have serious flaws, but as a Drug Bartender, his skills were unquestionable.
Moreover, considering the influence of the Assassination Company, the fact that he had become a military doctor at the Central Special-duty Officer Academy wasn't especially surprising.
‘They must have connections in the Empire too. Getting someone into the Central Special-duty Officer Academy wouldn't be difficult.’
Surprisingly, even in the original story, the academy's security had been breached many times.
It was an unavoidable reality.
The concept known as the Machine Spirit had eventually resulted in androids being granted rights and individuality.
As a result, the plan to replace all human labor with androids had fallen apart.
Because of that, many supervisory positions still required actual people.
And was the Assassination Company really the only organization capable of exploiting those gaps?
‘The Empire. The Red Hand. Even the various factions and planetary separatists.’
The situation at the Southern or Western Special-duty Officer Academies was unlikely to be much different.
In any case, Jin Crow roughly grasped the situation and nodded.
“So, what brings you here?”
Viper asked bluntly.
Only then did Jin Crow remember the original reason he had come to the infirmary.
Looking directly into Viper's green eyes, he answered,
“Headache medicine.”
“......”
“The strongest you've got.”
The pipe slipped from Viper's mouth with a clatter.
He muttered under his breath.
“......Fuck. I got exposed over headache medicine?”
KWAHHHHHHHHNG!
A deafening explosion erupted.
A nauseating stench filled the air.
“Kuaaaagh!”
“W-What?! Where are they?!”
“Fuck, where else would they be?! The Imperial Army!”
He lifted the military cap pulled low over his head and looked down at his dirt-covered hands.
They were the blood- and mud-stained hands of a young boy.
‘This is...’
Before he could even process the inexplicable sense of dissonance, a familiar red-haired sergeant came scrambling over the trench in panic.
“Huff... Huff! Staff Sergeant— No, Sergeant!”
“......Situation?”
“The ship carrying our Special-duty Officer got shot down by enemy guerrillas, and the enemy's charging at us like mad!”
The youthful traces had vanished.
In their place remained only overwhelming exhaustion and the metallic rasp of a voice deepened by adolescence.
The black-haired sergeant.
Jin Crow casually wiped the dirt splashed across his face with his filthy hand before asking the red-haired sergeant,
“Orders?”
“They're telling us to hold the line. Is that really the order?”
“......”
The sense of incongruity that had occupied his thoughts vanished without a trace.
In its place stood only a single soldier dressed in a brown military uniform.
It wasn't loyalty.
Nor patriotism.
The restraints engraved into their minds simply did not allow retreat or withdrawal.
“Haa... A lot of us are going to die again.”
“Fuck.”
Hidden beneath the trench like moles, they slowly opened their eyes amidst the explosions and the overwhelming scent of blood.
There would be no retreat.
There would be no reinforcements.
Even in circumstances that seemed to desire nothing but their deaths, they silently maintained their weapons in the darkness.
After surveying the frontline for a moment, Jin Crow rose to his feet and sprinted down the narrow trench.
“Cough! Cough!”
“S-Save... me... Ghk!”
The trench had already become a complete disaster.
Filthy water mixed with blood and mud reached all the way to his shins.
Corpses—
and Federation soldiers who would soon become corpses—
lay tangled together everywhere.
Nor was that all.
The bombardment around the trenches continued without pause.
Occasionally, a soldier struck directly by an explosion would be torn to pieces, chunks of flesh landing at his feet.
Yet Jin Crow never stopped.
His dry black hair became soaked with blood.
His brown military uniform was repeatedly drenched in filthy water until it had turned black.
Still, he continued running through the trench.
Eventually, his sprint through hell came to an end—
before the half-collapsed command post, thrown into utter chaos.
“Hey! Fuck! Only move what's necessary!”
“Burn that! We can't take everything anyway!”
Even though he was a sergeant, the soldiers paid him no attention.
They busily obeyed the officers' orders, burning documents and studying maps marked with escape routes.
The official order was to hold the frontline.
Yet headquarters was preparing to flee—
while only the soldiers remained behind to fight to the death.
“Sergeant Jin Crow.”
“What are you doing?! Get back out there and fight! A monster pretending to be a soldier......!”
Jin Crow stared at them with bloodshot eyes.
Hearing the major shout back at him, he couldn't help letting out a quiet laugh.
“Order from the Ministry of National Defense. Hound shall defend the Pramin Front until the very end. For the execution of this order, all decisions made by field commander Sergeant Jin Crow are hereby fully authorized.”
“What the fuck are you talking abou—!”
“You're worthless vermin. Die.”
Only then did the officers realize something was wrong and hurriedly draw their pistols.
But Jin Crow had already kicked off the ground with his Longsword drawn.
“N-No!”
He grabbed one by the head and smashed it into a steel desk until it burst apart.
“S-Spare me!”
He severed another's Achilles' heel with his Longsword.
Then he twisted the hand that had been reaching for the trigger, aimed the pistol beneath its owner's chin—
and pulled the trigger for him.
Ratatatat!
Bang!
Just one minute.
After wiping the blood clouding his vision with his tattered sleeve, Jin Crow looked at the soldiers who had followed him and spoke.
“All commanding officers have fallen in battle. A tragic loss.”
The Hounds neither panicked—
nor questioned him.
As though it were the most natural thing in the world, they nodded before turning toward the Imperial knights advancing in the distance.
—For His Majesty the Emperor!
—Long live the Holy Galactic Empire! Kill the enemy!
The war had not ended.
And Jin Crow—
was still standing there.
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