Previously
Henrietta officially begins her military life, though she struggles with an ill-fitting training uniform and oversleeping until noon. Duke Krakow and Billy visit her quarters to wake her, where the Duke warns her that special treatment ends now.
“What? What’s wrong? Do you have some kind of chronic illness?”
Billy asked, startled. Henrietta clutched her chest and shook her head.
“No… my legs just… gave out, sir.”
“What about your legs? Is there something wrong with your legs?”
“Haa, I’m just exhausted…”
“Ex—exhausted from what? What on earth could have exhausted a trainee?”
Billy genuinely struggled to accept Henrietta’s distress as normal.
The training intensity so far had been on par with warm-up stretches before real drill work began.
I swear, Billy didn't judge her by his own standards or those of an ordinary enlisted soldier.
Henrietta understood Billy’s bewilderment.
“Phew—. I suppose it’s because I’ve been living a bit too demurely of late.”
For roughly two and a half months.
In prison, she had spent almost all her time cooped up, just like the other inmates.
Though hard labor existed, noblewomen weren't assigned physical work; they were only made to sit and sew. In Henrietta's body now, nothing remained except the bare minimum muscles needed for everyday life.
“I am disappointed, soldier. I had fairly high hopes for your illustrious record.”
It was the moment she heard Billy’s disappointed voice.
The Duke's words—that the Monster Forest was dangerous and not just anyone could enter—surfaced in her mind as well.
Spurred by spite, Henrietta clenched her fists and hauled her heavy body up.
Then, forcing a bright, nonchalant smile, she dusted the dirt from her clothes.
“It is too early to be disappointed, sir. I will continue.”
“Ah… very well.”
Billy replied, feeling a bit uneasy.
Normally, when training soldiers, an instructor had to push them hard enough to make them puke, but he felt as though he, the assistant instructor, were pampering the recruit's condition instead.
To a recruit who took a break by sprawling on the ground just because she was exhausted, he should have barked at her not to play victim and disciplined her until tears spilled.
Yet he simply couldn't bring himself to order a woman smiling with a ghost-pale face to start running.
And there was no way Duke Krakow, watching them from afar while pretending to be indifferent and merely passing by, would know the plight Billy was facing.
***
Dinner after a long day’s training was the greatest comfort, filling the hollow bellies of ravenous soldiers.
Without uttering a word, everyone was shoveling food down so frantically they hardly knew whether it was going into their mouths or their noses.
Just then, Henrietta stepped into the mess hall.
Clack.
The clatter of utensils abruptly died.
‘A woman!’
‘A noblewoman!’
‘She’s pretty!’
‘Insanely pretty!’
The air in the mess hall turned tauter than if they had crossed paths with a monster in the forest.
Quite a few soldiers had caught glimpses of Trainee Matyas training in the afternoon from a distance.
Yet when they actually faced her in the mess hall, they couldn't even look her properly in the eye.
When one soldier averted his gaze, fixed his eyes firmly on his tray, and began scoffing down his food, the rest followed suit.
Seeing that, Henrietta assumed the meal must be exceptionally delicious.
With high expectations, she lifted her first spoonful, only for her smooth brow to furrow.
‘What is this? Why does it taste like this?’
Mess food was inherently tasteless. Why?
Because there was no need to make it taste good.
Soldiers whose bodies ached all over from draining their stamina through grueling drills and hard labor all day didn't fuss over flavor. For them, filling their stomachs was all that mattered.
Henrietta didn't intend to be picky about taste either. She had no such thoughts.
Still, wasn’t completely devoid of flavor taking it a bit too far?
“Thank you for the meal!”
“Gah!”
While Henrietta, who had barely managed one spoonful of stew, was pondering the true nature of this cardboard-flavored soup, the finished soldiers roared their thanks and rose from their seats.
Having consumed years of mess food, the veteran soldiers sat down and cleared their plates almost simultaneously, much like close order drill.
‘Incredible…!’
In the eyes of Trainee Matyas, that display couldn't have looked any crisper or more impressive.
Left alone in the mess hall that resembled the aftermath of a locust swarm, Henrietta steeled her resolve to eat.
It felt as if her delicate sense of taste had gone numb from sheer exhaustion, but what did flavor matter? What mattered was that if she picked at her food and starved herself now, she wouldn’t be able to get up tomorrow morning.
‘The Division Commander warned me in advance. He said the daily life of an enlisted soldier wouldn't be easy.’
Henrietta wanted to show that Duke she could adapt to this place without privileges or special treatment. (She didn't yet realize that being given the leisure to ponder the taste of her food during mealtime was already a colossal privilege.)
‘I really want to see admiration on that impassive face of his.’
Disappointing him this morning—or rather, at noon—still weighed heavily on her mind. She wanted to earn his approval as soon as possible.
To do that, she had to eat well. Eating well gave her strength, and she needed strength to train properly. She had to build back the stamina that had hit rock bottom over the past few months, the sooner the better.
Henrietta forced down every last bite until her tray was completely clean.
Then, to pass the next hurdle, she headed toward the communal bathhouse.
Naturally, while communal, the men’s and women’s bathhouses were separate.
Back when she lived as a noblewoman, bath time was synonymous with rest.
Regrettably, not in the military.
Having to walk quite a distance to the bathhouse with a completely exhausted body was fine.
She could bear the lack of a bathtub in the communal bathhouse. She accepted that the toiletries provided were products she had never seen or heard of in her life (they were standard military issue).
However, not having a maid to help her wash and dry off proved to be a fatal problem.
No matter how much she rubbed, her hair simply wouldn't dry!
Back in prison, her body had never been pushed to exhaustion, nor had she washed every day, so long hair hadn't been an issue.
As she barely finished scrubbing her long hair, plastered with mud and sweat, and began drying it with a towel, the mounting stress finally erupted.
Such a pathetic noblewoman!
“First thing tomorrow, I’m cutting this hair off!”
Never mind the physical toll; she was irritated with herself for failing to keep up with training properly.
On top of that, she felt disappointed in herself for acting fussy instead of eating heartily like the other soldiers to stave off hunger.
She was pathetic for arriving with long hair dangling all over the place when she already knew soldiers kept their hair short.
Though she hadn't known what the army was like, she had come prepared for it not to be comfortable. Her resolve must have been lacking.
‘Let’s see if you can endure it.’
The look the Duke had given her flashed in her mind. He had looked down on her.
…Well, she deserved to be looked down on.
“Whatever. Did I know what I was getting into when I got married, either?”
Compared to that sordid married life, devoid of hope or anything else, the military was paradise. She didn't have to weigh herself every day, nor did she have to sleep in makeup. Here, Henrietta was no one's trophy. Even if she was an inept, pathetic trainee, she was at least treated like a human being.
Yes. It was definitely paradise.
Remembering the welcome food filling her locker, Henrietta shook off her irritation. Thinking she could now eat jellies and chocolates without walking on eggshells, her steps back to the barracks grew lighter.
‘I should have eaten some this morning before heading out.’
Then she might have found more strength and done better during close order drill.
If only the Duke had given her just one more minute…
It was then.
“Hey, Trainee Matyas.”
It was an unfamiliar call, but hearing the name Matyas made Henrietta turn around.
A soldier with a slick, greasy face stood there.
Three cracked circles were emblazoned on his epaulets.
Having learned about military structure today, Henrietta recognized his rank insignia immediately: a ‘Corporal,’ the second-highest among enlisted men.
In other words, a senior far beyond Trainee Matyas’s reach.
“Yes, sir! Trainee Matyas!”
Just as she had learned in drill, Henrietta stood at attention and barked her rank and name.
In contrast, the corporal sauntered toward her with his hands shoved casually into his pockets.
‘I want to get promoted quickly too.’
The corporal’s swagger left a deep impression on Henrietta, sparking a tiny desire for power.
Yet the corporal's somewhat slouchy demeanor took an abrupt, complete turn the moment he halted before Henrietta.
“Gasp!”
“Is there an issue, Corporal?”
Henrietta asked, seeing the corporal's stunned expression.
“N-No… that, uh, it's just that you’re far too pretty…”
He had thought her quite pretty in the mess hall earlier, but she had been coated in dust and dirt back then. It couldn't compare to her fair face, freshly bathed and washed in the moonlight.
“Ah.”
Henrietta replied casually.
“I am naturally pretty.”
“S-So it seems.”
“Please speak comfortably, Corporal.”
Finally coming to his senses, the corporal flusteredly introduced himself.
“G-Glad to meet… you, trainee. I’m Corporal Dudery.”
“Yes, Corporal Dudery. Please take good care of me.”
Near the end of close order drill, Billy had given Henrietta a firm earful.
“Trainee Matyas. I never thought the day would come when I’d have to point this out, but absolute honorifics toward a superior are standard.”
Coming from someone who speaks quite casually himself…?
However, lacking the energy to argue, Henrietta had simply complied, and now she answered the corporal’s call with absolute deference.
“You're done with daily duties, right?”
As soon as the brief introductions ended, Corporal Dudery checked Henrietta’s schedule, as if he had business with her.
“Yes, sir. My duties are finished, and I am on my way back to the barracks.”
“Uh-huh, right. Then follow me for a second. You’ve got work to do.”
Having work to do when daily duties were already over felt entirely unfair.
—Or so she thought, but Henrietta Matyas was a woman blessed with quick wits. She had a gut feeling that arguing here would be a terrible idea. Tame as could be, she followed behind Corporal Dudery, who had already turned on his heel.
The military really was a rather unfair place.