Previously
Billy recounts Henrietta's 'Queen Bee' theories and the complex subtext of noble insults to Kalinin, who realizes he may have been manipulated by her clever speech. Henrietta expresses that the only way to stop the bullying is to become her tormentors' superior, prompting her to ask about rapid promotion.
Dudery felt his stomach twist into knots all over again at the sight of Matyas returning as a private.
Having earned her promotion from trainee to private, Matyas had somehow become even more insufferable. Now she clung to him without a trace of tact, in broad daylight.
“Corporal Dudery. The communal washroom has run out of facial soap. Where should I go to get it resupplied?”
“Corporal, there is no laundry soap. The supply officer claims there is no separate soap for laundry. What, then, should I use to wash my clothes?”
“Corporal! The bristles on my toothbrush are splayed, but they say it is not time for an exchange yet. What should I do in this situation?”
Every single time, Dudery had no choice but to answer her kindly. If that slightly unhinged Private Matyas caused any trouble, it was him, her senior, who would pay the price.
“Fuck! Do I really have to teach you that kind of shit too?!”
Lacing his words with friendly curses, he informed her that she ought to ask the soldier directly above her, not him.
“Ah. The others told me the exact same thing. In that case, I shall go ask the squad leader.”
“Hey! You! Freeze right there!”
If she dared to waste Sergeant Nick’s time with petty questions like that while he was already on edge studying for the non-commissioned officer exam, the fit he would throw… Just imagining it sent shivers down Dudery’s spine.
‘Fuck! Dudery, you bastard! Get over here! You! You beep-ass son of a beep! Do I really have to beep teach every beep single detail like that to this beep private myself?! Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep—.’
Sergeant Nick was gentle-natured under normal circumstances, but under stress, his temper puffed up like a lunatic blowfish. One did not cross him if it could be helped.
“What, uh, what what! What’s wrong with splayed bristles?! Bring it here! Why! It’s totally fine!”
“When the bristles are splayed, it does not clean teeth properly.”
“Then damn it, rip out your teeth and replace them!”
“‘Teeth’ like that is a term used for beasts.”
“Aaargh!”
And so Dudery found himself in a miserable bind, trapped in the absurd paradox where he was supposed to be the bully, yet ended up as the only one suffering.
Meanwhile, Private Matyas, the supposed victim of his harassment, strolled about without looking the least bit affected, even humming under her breath on occasion.
Just like right now.
“Since I cannot replace my teeth, I shall bear with it for now.”
After speaking as though she were making a tremendous concession, Matyas hummed a cheerful tune and walked away with a brisk stride. The other soldiers immediately swarmed Dudery.
“Corporal. Do you think she might actually just be totally clueless?”
“She’s a troublemaker through and through. How can she not even know such basic things, coming all the way to a corporal to ask?”
“Never mind that it’s minor—her questions are just bizarre.”
If they only knew she had gone all the way to a captain with similar questions back when she was still a trainee, their spines would have frozen solid.
“That’s why you bastards should have handled it yourselves! Why let it climb all the way up to me?!”
“Didn’t you tell us not to help her and to give her a hard time, Corporal?”
“Yeah. So we didn’t help, and she just kept going around asking everyone.”
Corporal Dudery felt his chest tighten with sheer frustration.
Truth be told, none of them had any talent or experience when it came to bullying.
In a brutal unit whose sole purpose was surviving against monsters, the motivation to torment someone until they quit was hard to come by. Rather, they wanted even one more body to bolster the unit’s strength, which had fostered fierce camaraderie among them.
It was their very first time doing anything like this, and the difficulty level was absurdly high.
Private Matyas seemed entirely unbothered by this brand of indirect bullying. She wasn't merely pretending to be fine; she genuinely looked unphased.
No, she almost looked like she was enjoying it.
“This isn’t working. Something’s wrong. That woman is a noble. Maybe she didn’t want to mingle with our kind anyway, and because we’re keeping our distance on our own, she actually finds it convenient and nice.”
“Oh! That really sounds plausible. How did you figure that out, Corporal?”
“You’re seriously brilliant.”
His shoulders puffing up, Dudery spoke with a swaggering expression.
“So here’s the deal: we need to change our approach. What would actually make her miserable? Throw out some ideas, all of you.”
“Hmm. Since indirect bullying isn’t working, how about we make it direct?”
“That’s what I’m talking about right now.”
“I mean directly hitting her. Bam, bam.”
When Private First Class Miller mimed throwing punches, every squad member scowled.
“Hit her? A woman?”
“No, I don’t mean beat her up badly, but throw a blanket over her head so she doesn’t know who did it—”
“So you’re saying we should hit her. A woman? You crazy bastard!”
Thud.
“Aargh!”
The moment Dudery kicked Miller to the ground, the rest of the squad threw a blanket over him and started beating him mercilessly.
Amid the dull thuds and desperate screams, Dudery sank into deep thought.
‘How can I torment her without laying a finger on her? Let’s flip the perspective. What’s the most agonizing thing for me here? Agonizing…. Ago…!’
As Dudery recalled his most agonizing experiences of late, a lightbulb went off in his head.
‘That’s it!’
A brilliant scheme struck him—one that would make her life miserable without him lifting a finger, something that would make her feel this place was a land of darkness and drive her to leave on her own two feet.
***
Sunday arrived.
Soldiers, much like civilians, rested on the Lord’s Day. There was no training on Sundays, and aside from a few specialized duties, they were exempt from duty rosters.
It would have been wonderful to simply rest, but to prevent the soldiers from falling into debauchery, the Krakow military required them to submit a log of their weekend activities.
On a document the division commander himself might inspect if things went awry, one could hardly write something like, ‘Played cards with squadmates all day.’
In the end, every soldier was forced to scramble for wholesome, cultured activities—showpieces they could record with clean consciences.
Thus, Corporal Dudery marched the entire squad toward the chapel inside the base. (Sergeant Nick, swamped with exam preparations, was excused.)
Having nothing in particular to do, Henrietta felt grateful for her squadmates’ thoughtfulness in taking her along to the chapel on their precious Sunday. She followed them without a second thought.
“If you go to the chapel, they give out three Ruljo Candies per person.”
Those words were what ultimately won her over.
Once they arrived at the chapel, however, hardly any other soldiers were in sight.
Even though they were giving away three whole pieces of Ruljo Candy!
‘When they all love sweets that much, why are so few people here?’
A creeping suspicion settled in. Was a new form of bullying beginning? She had thought they had finally given up and accepted her, but apparently not.
Just as the doubt crossed her mind—
“Welcome, brothers.”
The priest made her entrance.
The white-haired female priest possessed an exceptionally fierce gaze that sharply contrasted with her soft, sacred voice. Yet, her face was completely devoid of wrinkles.
Fitting for a military facing the Monster Forest, the priest's presence was extraordinary.
“I see a new brother among us today. Shall we have an introduction?”
When everyone looked toward Henrietta, she rose from her seat. Facing the priest, she felt her noble identity stir within her.
“May the ears of wheat bow across the wide fields, and peace be upon all the world. I am Henrietta Matyas of the 24th Infantry Squad. I look forward to your gracious words, Priest.”
“Hahaha! I cannot remember the last time I received such a greeting! Please, call me Ronda.”
Ronda burst into hearty laughter. Her sharp, fierce impression dissolved beneath the sound. Her voice and smile were quite likable, making Henrietta take an instant liking to the priest.
As a child, she had often been dragged to chapel by her aunt to pray under duress. Back then, the bulk of those prayers had been pleas for forgiveness for her sins.
What terrible sins could a young child have possibly committed? Yet the moment she talked back even slightly, she was hauled off to chapel, leaving her with few fond memories of the place.
The priests, too, had been nothing more than vile snobs swayed by noble gold.
Yet Ronda exhibited none of that pretentious hypocrisy or haughtiness.
Before long, the priest’s sermon began to echo through the chapel. The scriptures were familiar enough that Henrietta knew them by heart, but whether due to Priest Ronda’s compelling voice or the simple novelty of hearing sincere preaching after so long, it was curiously engaging.