Moore, facing a meeting with a person he couldn't have anticipated, followed behind her - Papillon, who claimed to be his adjutant - unable to gauge her true intentions.
Exiting the elevator she had boarded, she reached the upper floor of the headquarters building.
As if proving her familiarity with the route, she stood in front of one of the doors on that floor. She shadowed her ID card, and as the door opened, Papillon, with narrowed eyes, urged Moore to enter.
Without returning a nod, he stepped into the room. The room's structure seemed to be similar to the Vice Commander's office assigned to Anderson.
Papillon, approaching the secretary who was also the Vice Commander's secretary, urged her to inform Burningham of Moore's arrival. The secretary took the phone when prompted.
"Excuse me. Major Moore has arrived. Yes, the adjutant is with him. Yes, understood. Apologies for the delay. Please come in."
Permission to enter seemed to be granted. He nodded in return and adjusted his uniform lightly.
Papillon, who had walked up to Burningham's adjutant - a genuine adjutant, to Moore's surprise - entered the Vice Commander's office, and Moore followed suit.
"Burningham-sama, sorry to keep you waiting."
Papillon reported in a voice reminiscent of a gentle stroke. The person Moore found in front of him, the one Burningham, was a slightly chubby man in a military uniform with a small mustache.
"Papillon... No, no need to go through the trouble."
"No, not at all."
"...So, who might you be?"
Burningham's brown eyes, like Moore's, focused on him. Sensing that, Moore made the sound of heels clicking, performing a salute with his right hand aligned in front of the brim of the overlaid military cap.
"I am Major Shaw Moore. Your Excellency Vice Admiral Burningham."
Acknowledging the salute, Burningham straightened his back and returned the salute. When his arm was lowered, Moore also returned to an unyielding posture.
"To, to receive a salute from an excellent soldier like you, it's an honor for me."
"I'm sorry for the inconvenience."
"Now, now. Please have a seat."
"No, I'll remain standing."
Despite Burningham offering a reception sofa after removing his military cap and placing it under his left arm, Moore lightly shook his head from side to side.
"No, that's troublesome. Leaving a distinguished military officer like you, who achieved unparalleled merit in the recent total war, standing... it involves my honor."
"Major Moore, please have a seat."
As per his words, Burningham, somewhat nervously, gestured for Moore to take a seat. Supporting this, Papillon also pointed to the sofa with her hand.
Feeling that it might be impolite to refuse too much, Moore lightly nodded and moved to the front of the sofa.
While holding a cane in one hand, Burningham also moved to face Moore, recognizing his presence when he sat down.
Next to Burningham, Papillon also took a seat, and the two with black hair and deep brown eyes faced each other head-on.
"Ah, once again... nice to meet you."
"To tell the truth, I've seen Your Excellency's figure once before. At the onboard party on the Admire."
"Ah, I see... that was it."
"Well. From a distance, Your Excellency might not remember someone like me."
By the way, he was Anderson's guard, and there were other military personnel in uniform in that place. Burningham is also a busy person. It's not surprising if he doesn't remember.
"I, I'm sorry, but... you don't remember, right? I apologize."
"No, please don't worry about it. Now, Your Excellency. May I ask about the purpose of your visit?"
"Well, wait a moment. Papillon, tea..."
"Yes, Burningham-sama. Earl Grey, right?"
Nodding, the adjutant stood up and headed toward the corner of the Vice Commander's office. Moore, focusing on Burningham in front of him, concentrated his gaze on him.
Exposed to that gaze, Burningham - not a petty person, but sweat started to seep from his forehead. Moore could probably sense the tension as well.
Despite having the same hair color and eye color, they had completely opposite appearances. If asked who looks more like a military person, it's highly likely that Moore would be favored.
In the midst of a slight complexed feeling, Burningham took out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped away the sweat that had seeped from his forehead.
"...It's a bit hot, isn't it?"
"Ah, yes... it seems so. Papillon, sorry, but adjust the air conditioning..."
"Yes, please wait."
He must have been considerate. There was not a single bead of sweat on him, which was the best proof.
As Papillon prepared the tea, adjusting the room temperature a bit lower, Burningham, after clearing his throat, began to speak.
"Ma-Major Moore. Th-the reason I called you... I wanted to hear about yesterday's incident."
"...I apologize for taking up your valuable time, Your Excellency."
"N-no, please don't be so formal. Th-there's no urgent matter to discuss."
Strange.
As Papillon poured the brewed tea into cups and brought them, first in front of Moore, then in front of Burningham, she sat back down next to the Vice Commander, crossing her legs.
"Now, go ahead, have a drink."
"...Thank you."
There was no benefit in poisoning him at this point. At least not now. Moore took the cup handle and took a quiet sip. The taste was not strange, as expected.
"...H-how is it?"
"...I have a simple palate, so all I can say is that it's good. Please forgive me."
"I-is that so. I'm glad you like it."
Relieved, Burningham also lifted the cup. Watching him sip the steaming tea, Moore returned the cup to the saucer and pondered the Vice Commander's intentions for calling him.
It's undoubtedly about yesterday's incident—the matter of him sending 13 members of the Triangle Squad to the hospital. It could be considered an interrogation, but it's unlikely that the Vice Commander would have the time to engage in such antics.
It was a strange and localized dispute or disturbance. Of course, he eventually faced an inquiry committee and underwent an interrogation for what he had done, but would it be something significant enough for the Vice Commander to be involved?
"...Regarding yesterday's incident, do I interpret it correctly that you want to discuss the matter of me sending the Triangle Squad members to the hospital?"
"Ah, yes. That's right. A-actually, a friend's son was assigned to the Triangle Squad. H-he was very angry, but... after learning the circumstances... he asked for lenient treatment for Major Moore..."
"Oh?"
Lenient treatment or not, he considered himself more of a victim.
He restrained the words that were about to slip out of his mouth.
"N-no matter what the reason was... it should not have resulted in a group assault, as you also mentioned."
"...I see."
"B-but... he also mentioned this. 'Could you not have shown some restraint?'"
Burningham—whether he really received such a question from a friend or not is uncertain. However, Moore released a small sigh and looked up at the ceiling for a brief moment. Another sigh escaped during that time.
"...As you mentioned earlier... no matter the reasons, what happened was still a group assault."
"Ah, yes... that's true. I-i intend to administer the appropriate punishment to them."
As for that, Moore couldn't care less. Whether he became partially paralyzed or even died as it is, it didn't matter to him.
"...In operations specialized in counterterrorism and riot control, the members of such squads should undoubtedly be trained soldiers. Yet, individuals like them—regardless of the reasons—attacked in an uncontrollable state. As a candid question, why should we show restraint in such a situation?"
Uncontrollable—Moore expressed it as a state of going berserk. However, such opponents, and trained soldiers at that, attacking in a group, raised questions.
No matter how much restraint is shown while retaliating, it would only pour oil on the fire.
In general, not only for military personnel but also for rampaging criminals, showing any kind of restraint during suppression could potentially pose a high risk to oneself, allies, and the surroundings.
When hearing such stories, Moore couldn't help but think of the "fantasies" of the public who talk about shooting the criminals' legs or shooting out the tires of a fleeing vehicle.
"...Even then, I made some effort to show restraint. I couldn't have shown more restraint. Please check the surveillance cameras."
"Additionally, that meets the conditions of legitimate self-defense. The preemptive attackers, in other words, the squad members who came at Moore, were subdued by Moore's hands, and there was no persistent retaliation even after he stopped the assault. It shouldn't be considered excessive defense."
"Hmm. F-from what I've heard... I felt that you're an honest soldier. A-and meeting you in person, I think that's true. A p-proud soldier, I suppose."
"...I am grateful."
"B-but... th-then you won't survive in this organization..."
—It seems like this is the main topic.
Burningham placed the cup on the saucer and interlaced the fingertips of both hands on his lap. Whether he was relieving tension or trying not to show emotions, his interlaced fingertips were busy moving.
"...What do you mean?"
"You're an excellent soldier. Y-your rank proves that. S-someday, you should be able to take a major position in the military."
—He wasn't pursuing a military career for that, though.
He swallowed back the words that were about to come out of his mouth.
Burningham seemed to interpret his silence as prompting him to continue and took a deep breath.
"...I-I'll intercede. Th-they will surely understand."
"No, Your Excellency, I apologize, but I would prefer to wait calmly for the judgment of the punishment."
What is the purpose of this? He couldn't help but think that this nervous, seemingly acting behavior was meant to hide the true intentions. Even if it was an act, there was a significantly low chance that Moore's response to the Vice Commander in front of him would change.
"N-no, don't hesitate. I-I don't want to nip the bud of a promising young person like Major Moore. M-making connections is not a bad thing."
"—Your Excellency. I apologize, but could you please state it clearly? What is the matter you want to discuss with me?"
Burningham and the Vice Commander praised Moore as a promising young person, but he could not feel that the Vice Commander was genuinely thinking that way.
It even felt like sweet talk.
Impatient, he sighed once and urged Burningham to get to the point. Even if this nervousness was an act, there was a remarkably low chance that Moore's response to the Vice Commander would change.
"No, please don't hesitate like that. If-if, for example, you don't do it, Major Moore, a promising young person like you, might not survive in this organization."
"What do you mean?"
"...Understood. S-so, let me be clear."
He nodded in response, prompting Burningham to continue.
Burningham took a deep breath, then opened his mouth.
"Th-the Nikke named Marian in Major Moore's squad—"
"—I decline."
Before all the words were spoken, Moore cut him off. Showing a clear rejection, Burningham seemed to forget how to breathe for a moment, his mouth opening and closing in shock.
"I cannot hand her over. She is my subordinate."
"B-but...! Marian is...!"
"I'll say it as many times as needed—she is my subordinate, nothing more, nothing less."
—He had vaguely sensed it midway, but yes.
Unexpected, or rather, he felt more like he understood.
At the same time, the emotion of "relief" welled up—it was needless to say that it had come just in time.
"Th-that Nikke named Marian is a valuable asset! I-I'm sure that if analyzed, Ark technology could advance us by 100 years...!"
"Even so, she is my subordinate. Could it be, Your Excellency, that you expect me to hand over my subordinate for my own sake?"
"I-I didn't say anything like that!"
"No, it's essentially the same. If that's the case, please discuss it with Lord Anderson through proper channels."
Moore stood up. Despite using quality tea leaves for the tea, he had only taken a sip, but without a hint of regret, he rose from the sofa.
"W-wait, Major...! The conversation isn't over yet...!"
"No, I'm done. I've made it clear that I can't hand her over. That should be enough."
"—You swore allegiance to Ark and humanity when you were commissioned...!"
Burningham also stood up. Moore nodded in response to the words directed at him. That's why he wears this military uniform and rank insignia here.
"You're right. However, I've made a pledge to myself that is no less than the oath I made during my commissioning."
"W-what is that...?"
"—To protect my subordinates."
Moore's hand moved abruptly toward the shoulder of his military uniform. His fingertips unbuttoned the shoulder buttons, and the major's rank insignia was removed.
After reattaching the buttons, he approached Burningham with a steady pace. Naturally, he looked down on Burningham with sharp, narrowed eyes. Faced with Moore's imposing pressure, the vice-commander stumbled.
"—Demotion. This should ease the other side's feelings, and we can consider it settled. Please return the rank insignia to His Excellency; it's a minor inconvenience, but please do."
A pair of major's rank insignia, grasped by his fingertips, was offered.
-----
.
.
.
"Such a foolish thing to do."
"I apologize, Captain, for causing many injuries in training."
"Can you stop talking like that?"
"I've been demoted."
After leaving the vice-commander's office, Moore returned to the lodging where he had been staying. For some reason, Yurha, Admi, and Privaty were waiting at the door, and seeing that there was nothing on Moore's shoulders, they probably figured out what had happened.
Surprisingly, Burningham seemed to be unexpectedly conscientious. Or rather, it seemed that the direction he mentioned indeed existed. Shortly after he reached his quarters, Moore received an email from the Central Government Personnel Department.
It contained instructions to strip him of the rank of major and demote him to captain.
Without much emotion, Moore sighed as he worked to pack his few belongings into the trunk. Approaching him, Yurha sighed as well.
"That doesn't look good on you. I'll give you mine."
"However..."
"It's fine. I have others."
The captain's rank insignia was offered by her. Upon closer inspection, the one on Yurha's coat had been removed. Prompted to accept, Moore hesitated for a moment but eventually nodded, taking the rank insignia with his fingertips.
Closing the lid of the trunk and unbuttoning his shoulders, he attached the just-received rank insignia.
"Major Moore. I'm sorry for what happened this time."
"I'm a Captain now... Rather, my subordinates were the ones who suffered. If you have any resentment, I'm all ears."
"I heard the details at the hospital... I was inadequate in my guidance. I'm very sorry."
"...Just make sure it doesn't happen again in the future."
Moore approached Privaty, who had been patting her back, and gently patted her back in return. As if feeling comforted, Privaty's two thick hair braids, set every morning, swayed.
"But...!"
"Don't dwell on the responsibility issue. The punishment has already been given. There's nothing more to be done now."
"Privaty."
As Privaty, biting her lower lip, kept her lips tightly sealed, Admi, who stood next to her, lightly patted her back. It felt like she was being comforted, and Privaty turned her face away.
"Major Moore—no, Captain... Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. I'm not working for the military for the sake of ranks or careers... Well, it's a shame that the training has gone to waste..."
"Yeah, that's true."
"...You're too considerate."
Approaching Privaty, who had been patting her back, Moore returned the gesture by gently patting her back. With just one rank demotion, Moore shrugged as if to say, "It's not a big deal," and grabbed his trunk.
Hanging it from his left hand, he put on his military cap with his right hand. Facing Yurha, he saluted with a raised hand.
Yurha returned the salute.
"Thank you for your assistance for the past ten days."
"...Good work."
With another round of salutes and responses, as their right hands were sequentially lowered, Moore headed toward the door.
"...How should I explain this..."
Having left the Central Government Military Headquarters, Moore sighed. First, he had to explain the situation to his immediate superior, Anderson. With a sigh that seemed belated, he proceeded with his steps.
----
Extra:
Moore: "If it's a demotion, I don't have a problem with it."
Anderson: "...I'm not sure it's wise to be so decisive about it?"
Moore: "I don't want to be a coward who hands over subordinates."
Moore, facing a meeting with a person he couldn't have anticipated, followed behind her - Papillon, who claimed to be his adjutant - unable to gauge her true intentions.
Exiting the elevator she had boarded, she reached the upper floor of the headquarters building.
As if proving her familiarity with the route, she stood in front of one of the doors on that floor. She shadowed her ID card, and as the door opened, Papillon, with narrowed eyes, urged Moore to enter.
Without returning a nod, he stepped into the room. The room's structure seemed to be similar to the Vice Commander's office assigned to Anderson.
Papillon, approaching the secretary who was also the Vice Commander's secretary, urged her to inform Burningham of Moore's arrival. The secretary took the phone when prompted.
"Excuse me. Major Moore has arrived. Yes, the adjutant is with him. Yes, understood. Apologies for the delay. Please come in."
Permission to enter seemed to be granted. He nodded in return and adjusted his uniform lightly.
Papillon, who had walked up to Burningham's adjutant - a genuine adjutant, to Moore's surprise - entered the Vice Commander's office, and Moore followed suit.
"Burningham-sama, sorry to keep you waiting."
Papillon reported in a voice reminiscent of a gentle stroke. The person Moore found in front of him, the one Burningham, was a slightly chubby man in a military uniform with a small mustache.
"Papillon... No, no need to go through the trouble."
"No, not at all."
"...So, who might you be?"
Burningham's brown eyes, like Moore's, focused on him. Sensing that, Moore made the sound of heels clicking, performing a salute with his right hand aligned in front of the brim of the overlaid military cap.
"I am Major Shaw Moore. Your Excellency Vice Admiral Burningham."
Acknowledging the salute, Burningham straightened his back and returned the salute. When his arm was lowered, Moore also returned to an unyielding posture.
"To, to receive a salute from an excellent soldier like you, it's an honor for me."
"I'm sorry for the inconvenience."
"Now, now. Please have a seat."
"No, I'll remain standing."
Despite Burningham offering a reception sofa after removing his military cap and placing it under his left arm, Moore lightly shook his head from side to side.
"No, that's troublesome. Leaving a distinguished military officer like you, who achieved unparalleled merit in the recent total war, standing... it involves my honor."
"Major Moore, please have a seat."
As per his words, Burningham, somewhat nervously, gestured for Moore to take a seat. Supporting this, Papillon also pointed to the sofa with her hand.
Feeling that it might be impolite to refuse too much, Moore lightly nodded and moved to the front of the sofa.
While holding a cane in one hand, Burningham also moved to face Moore, recognizing his presence when he sat down.
Next to Burningham, Papillon also took a seat, and the two with black hair and deep brown eyes faced each other head-on.
"Ah, once again... nice to meet you."
"To tell the truth, I've seen Your Excellency's figure once before. At the onboard party on the Admire."
"Ah, I see... that was it."
"Well. From a distance, Your Excellency might not remember someone like me."
By the way, he was Anderson's guard, and there were other military personnel in uniform in that place. Burningham is also a busy person. It's not surprising if he doesn't remember.
"I, I'm sorry, but... you don't remember, right? I apologize."
"No, please don't worry about it. Now, Your Excellency. May I ask about the purpose of your visit?"
"Well, wait a moment. Papillon, tea..."
"Yes, Burningham-sama. Earl Grey, right?"
Nodding, the adjutant stood up and headed toward the corner of the Vice Commander's office. Moore, focusing on Burningham in front of him, concentrated his gaze on him.
Exposed to that gaze, Burningham - not a petty person, but sweat started to seep from his forehead. Moore could probably sense the tension as well.
Despite having the same hair color and eye color, they had completely opposite appearances. If asked who looks more like a military person, it's highly likely that Moore would be favored.
In the midst of a slight complexed feeling, Burningham took out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped away the sweat that had seeped from his forehead.
"...It's a bit hot, isn't it?"
"Ah, yes... it seems so. Papillon, sorry, but adjust the air conditioning..."
"Yes, please wait."
He must have been considerate. There was not a single bead of sweat on him, which was the best proof.
As Papillon prepared the tea, adjusting the room temperature a bit lower, Burningham, after clearing his throat, began to speak.
"Ma-Major Moore. Th-the reason I called you... I wanted to hear about yesterday's incident."
"...I apologize for taking up your valuable time, Your Excellency."
"N-no, please don't be so formal. Th-there's no urgent matter to discuss."
Strange.
As Papillon poured the brewed tea into cups and brought them, first in front of Moore, then in front of Burningham, she sat back down next to the Vice Commander, crossing her legs.
"Now, go ahead, have a drink."
"...Thank you."
There was no benefit in poisoning him at this point. At least not now. Moore took the cup handle and took a quiet sip. The taste was not strange, as expected.
"...H-how is it?"
"...I have a simple palate, so all I can say is that it's good. Please forgive me."
"I-is that so. I'm glad you like it."
Relieved, Burningham also lifted the cup. Watching him sip the steaming tea, Moore returned the cup to the saucer and pondered the Vice Commander's intentions for calling him.
It's undoubtedly about yesterday's incident—the matter of him sending 13 members of the Triangle Squad to the hospital. It could be considered an interrogation, but it's unlikely that the Vice Commander would have the time to engage in such antics.
It was a strange and localized dispute or disturbance. Of course, he eventually faced an inquiry committee and underwent an interrogation for what he had done, but would it be something significant enough for the Vice Commander to be involved?
"...Regarding yesterday's incident, do I interpret it correctly that you want to discuss the matter of me sending the Triangle Squad members to the hospital?"
"Ah, yes. That's right. A-actually, a friend's son was assigned to the Triangle Squad. H-he was very angry, but... after learning the circumstances... he asked for lenient treatment for Major Moore..."
"Oh?"
Lenient treatment or not, he considered himself more of a victim.
He restrained the words that were about to slip out of his mouth.
"N-no matter what the reason was... it should not have resulted in a group assault, as you also mentioned."
"...I see."
"B-but... he also mentioned this. 'Could you not have shown some restraint?'"
Burningham—whether he really received such a question from a friend or not is uncertain. However, Moore released a small sigh and looked up at the ceiling for a brief moment. Another sigh escaped during that time.
"...As you mentioned earlier... no matter the reasons, what happened was still a group assault."
"Ah, yes... that's true. I-i intend to administer the appropriate punishment to them."
As for that, Moore couldn't care less. Whether he became partially paralyzed or even died as it is, it didn't matter to him.
"...In operations specialized in counterterrorism and riot control, the members of such squads should undoubtedly be trained soldiers. Yet, individuals like them—regardless of the reasons—attacked in an uncontrollable state. As a candid question, why should we show restraint in such a situation?"
Uncontrollable—Moore expressed it as a state of going berserk. However, such opponents, and trained soldiers at that, attacking in a group, raised questions.
No matter how much restraint is shown while retaliating, it would only pour oil on the fire.
In general, not only for military personnel but also for rampaging criminals, showing any kind of restraint during suppression could potentially pose a high risk to oneself, allies, and the surroundings.
When hearing such stories, Moore couldn't help but think of the "fantasies" of the public who talk about shooting the criminals' legs or shooting out the tires of a fleeing vehicle.
"...Even then, I made some effort to show restraint. I couldn't have shown more restraint. Please check the surveillance cameras."
"Additionally, that meets the conditions of legitimate self-defense. The preemptive attackers, in other words, the squad members who came at Moore, were subdued by Moore's hands, and there was no persistent retaliation even after he stopped the assault. It shouldn't be considered excessive defense."
"Hmm. F-from what I've heard... I felt that you're an honest soldier. A-and meeting you in person, I think that's true. A p-proud soldier, I suppose."
"...I am grateful."
"B-but... th-then you won't survive in this organization..."
—It seems like this is the main topic.
Burningham placed the cup on the saucer and interlaced the fingertips of both hands on his lap. Whether he was relieving tension or trying not to show emotions, his interlaced fingertips were busy moving.
"...What do you mean?"
"You're an excellent soldier. Y-your rank proves that. S-someday, you should be able to take a major position in the military."
—He wasn't pursuing a military career for that, though.
He swallowed back the words that were about to come out of his mouth.
Burningham seemed to interpret his silence as prompting him to continue and took a deep breath.
"...I-I'll intercede. Th-they will surely understand."
"No, Your Excellency, I apologize, but I would prefer to wait calmly for the judgment of the punishment."
What is the purpose of this? He couldn't help but think that this nervous, seemingly acting behavior was meant to hide the true intentions. Even if it was an act, there was a significantly low chance that Moore's response to the Vice Commander in front of him would change.
"N-no, don't hesitate. I-I don't want to nip the bud of a promising young person like Major Moore. M-making connections is not a bad thing."
"—Your Excellency. I apologize, but could you please state it clearly? What is the matter you want to discuss with me?"
Burningham and the Vice Commander praised Moore as a promising young person, but he could not feel that the Vice Commander was genuinely thinking that way.
It even felt like sweet talk.
Impatient, he sighed once and urged Burningham to get to the point. Even if this nervousness was an act, there was a remarkably low chance that Moore's response to the Vice Commander would change.
"No, please don't hesitate like that. If-if, for example, you don't do it, Major Moore, a promising young person like you, might not survive in this organization."
"What do you mean?"
"...Understood. S-so, let me be clear."
He nodded in response, prompting Burningham to continue.
Burningham took a deep breath, then opened his mouth.
"Th-the Nikke named Marian in Major Moore's squad—"
"—I decline."
Before all the words were spoken, Moore cut him off. Showing a clear rejection, Burningham seemed to forget how to breathe for a moment, his mouth opening and closing in shock.
"I cannot hand her over. She is my subordinate."
"B-but...! Marian is...!"
"I'll say it as many times as needed—she is my subordinate, nothing more, nothing less."
—He had vaguely sensed it midway, but yes.
Unexpected, or rather, he felt more like he understood.
At the same time, the emotion of "relief" welled up—it was needless to say that it had come just in time.
"Th-that Nikke named Marian is a valuable asset! I-I'm sure that if analyzed, Ark technology could advance us by 100 years...!"
"Even so, she is my subordinate. Could it be, Your Excellency, that you expect me to hand over my subordinate for my own sake?"
"I-I didn't say anything like that!"
"No, it's essentially the same. If that's the case, please discuss it with Lord Anderson through proper channels."
Moore stood up. Despite using quality tea leaves for the tea, he had only taken a sip, but without a hint of regret, he rose from the sofa.
"W-wait, Major...! The conversation isn't over yet...!"
"No, I'm done. I've made it clear that I can't hand her over. That should be enough."
"—You swore allegiance to Ark and humanity when you were commissioned...!"
Burningham also stood up. Moore nodded in response to the words directed at him. That's why he wears this military uniform and rank insignia here.
"You're right. However, I've made a pledge to myself that is no less than the oath I made during my commissioning."
"W-what is that...?"
"—To protect my subordinates."
Moore's hand moved abruptly toward the shoulder of his military uniform. His fingertips unbuttoned the shoulder buttons, and the major's rank insignia was removed.
After reattaching the buttons, he approached Burningham with a steady pace. Naturally, he looked down on Burningham with sharp, narrowed eyes. Faced with Moore's imposing pressure, the vice-commander stumbled.
"—Demotion. This should ease the other side's feelings, and we can consider it settled. Please return the rank insignia to His Excellency; it's a minor inconvenience, but please do."
A pair of major's rank insignia, grasped by his fingertips, was offered.
-----
.
.
.
"Such a foolish thing to do."
"I apologize, Captain, for causing many injuries in training."
"Can you stop talking like that?"
"I've been demoted."
After leaving the vice-commander's office, Moore returned to the lodging where he had been staying. For some reason, Yurha, Admi, and Privaty were waiting at the door, and seeing that there was nothing on Moore's shoulders, they probably figured out what had happened.
Surprisingly, Burningham seemed to be unexpectedly conscientious. Or rather, it seemed that the direction he mentioned indeed existed. Shortly after he reached his quarters, Moore received an email from the Central Government Personnel Department.
It contained instructions to strip him of the rank of major and demote him to captain.
Without much emotion, Moore sighed as he worked to pack his few belongings into the trunk. Approaching him, Yurha sighed as well.
"That doesn't look good on you. I'll give you mine."
"However..."
"It's fine. I have others."
The captain's rank insignia was offered by her. Upon closer inspection, the one on Yurha's coat had been removed. Prompted to accept, Moore hesitated for a moment but eventually nodded, taking the rank insignia with his fingertips.
Closing the lid of the trunk and unbuttoning his shoulders, he attached the just-received rank insignia.
"Major Moore. I'm sorry for what happened this time."
"I'm a Captain now... Rather, my subordinates were the ones who suffered. If you have any resentment, I'm all ears."
"I heard the details at the hospital... I was inadequate in my guidance. I'm very sorry."
"...Just make sure it doesn't happen again in the future."
Moore approached Privaty, who had been patting her back, and gently patted her back in return. As if feeling comforted, Privaty's two thick hair braids, set every morning, swayed.
"But...!"
"Don't dwell on the responsibility issue. The punishment has already been given. There's nothing more to be done now."
"Privaty."
As Privaty, biting her lower lip, kept her lips tightly sealed, Admi, who stood next to her, lightly patted her back. It felt like she was being comforted, and Privaty turned her face away.
"Major Moore—no, Captain... Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. I'm not working for the military for the sake of ranks or careers... Well, it's a shame that the training has gone to waste..."
"Yeah, that's true."
"...You're too considerate."
Approaching Privaty, who had been patting her back, Moore returned the gesture by gently patting her back. With just one rank demotion, Moore shrugged as if to say, "It's not a big deal," and grabbed his trunk.
Hanging it from his left hand, he put on his military cap with his right hand. Facing Yurha, he saluted with a raised hand.
Yurha returned the salute.
"Thank you for your assistance for the past ten days."
"...Good work."
With another round of salutes and responses, as their right hands were sequentially lowered, Moore headed toward the door.
"...How should I explain this..."
Having left the Central Government Military Headquarters, Moore sighed. First, he had to explain the situation to his immediate superior, Anderson. With a sigh that seemed belated, he proceeded with his steps.
----
Extra:
Moore: "If it's a demotion, I don't have a problem with it."
Anderson: "...I'm not sure it's wise to be so decisive about it?"
Moore: "I don't want to be a coward who hands over subordinates."
