07.

“Lieutenant Erable, do you have time this evening?”

After the overtime shift, the warehouse, now vacated by the squad members, was dark and silent.

Around 8 PM. The overtime shift ended earlier than expected, and Erable was in the middle of cleaning up, feeling a bit excited.

She was tidying the desk, turning off the lights in the warehouse, and just as she was about to leave, she realized she had forgotten her personal pad. As she turned back after grabbing it, she saw Dezeb standing casually by the door.

His long shadow stretched deep into the room, cast by the backlight from the hallway.

Erable’s body froze instinctively.

“Oh, hello, Commander.”

“Are we greeting each other again?”

He mentioned how they had already been together in the morning, chuckling softly.

Despite his friendly tone, the atmosphere felt oddly heavy. It was probably because there was no one else around.

The lights were off in the warehouse too… It’s in settings like this that murder scenes usually happen…

“Is there something you need me to do?”

Erable instinctively tried to figure out the reason.

Maybe there was more work suddenly, or perhaps there was an issue with the report from this morning.

“No, I’m just asking if you’d like to have dinner with me.”

Leaning against the doorframe, he tilted his head slightly, as if amused by her pale face.

‘…What did I just hear?’

Erable’s pupils trembled anxiously.

Ah, dinner.

Dezeb’s slightly disheveled attire, his languid eyes… Erable thought for a moment.

What’s the likelihood this is work-related…? Of course, it’s not like he’d have any personal reason to meet me, but still, she chose the safest response immediately.

“Well, I still have some warehouse duties…”

“Oh.”

Dezeb turned his head towards the side wall as he asked.

“Really?”

And then, he reached out and flicked the switch on the wall.

The once-dark warehouse lit up instantly. Thanks to that, Erable’s pale face was now even more visibly white.

If only the light switch had been out of his reach at that moment…

“Looks like you were working overtime, with the lights off.”

He let out a soft chuckle before straightening his body from the doorframe.

Erable flinched, hugging her pad tightly, as if it could somehow serve as a shield.

Of course, she knew how foolish she must have looked, but the best she could manage was not scurrying away like a frightened mouse.

“Lieutenant, I expected you to decline, but your excuse is a bit…”

Beep beep— Suddenly, an alert rang out.

Dezeb stopped talking and tapped the back of his earlobe. He seemed to be listening to a report.

The brief pause only added to the tension. Her legs, barely holding her up, began trembling.

“…Right now?”

He asked, glancing at Erable. Seeing her frozen in place, he let out another soft laugh.

“The timing’s quite unfortunate, huh? Alright, I’ll be right there.”

After finishing the call, he casually spoke to the still-frozen Erable.

“I’ll see you when I get back, Erable. You can go home for now.”

His smooth movements as he turned away were graceful, while Erable, left behind, collapsed to the floor with a thud.

She raised her trembling hands and wiped her face dry.

Her palm was slick with cold sweat as she rubbed the back of her neck.

‘See me when he gets back… again. Again…?’

Erable felt as if she had just been given a death sentence. Getting hit by a shuttle in passing would’ve felt less shocking.

‘…What just happened?’

She quickly replayed her actions from today in her head.

She had worked diligently, did her best, and… there was no way she had done anything to provoke Dezeb.

‘Of course not! I don’t want to die!’

Erable’s head was spinning.

‘So, what on earth is going on—!!’

＊ ＊ ＊

“He asked you to have dinner?”

“Yes, what do you think about that?”

Erable clung to Lieutenant Camellia, her drinking buddy.

Leaning against the bar, Camellia sipped her cocktail with a sly smile.

“What do I think? He’s obviously hitting on you.”

“No, he’s not.”

“Is it really that serious?”

Camellia asked with a hint of annoyance.

Erable struggled to compose her rigid expression.

It had been two days since Dezeb had gone on an external mission with some senior officers.

After work, Erable stopped by the infirmary for some tranquilizers and ended up at a bar with Lieutenant Camellia, the army medic.

Sure, you could get tranquilizers at a pharmacy, but getting them from the infirmary meant they were free—and you got a drinking buddy as a bonus. Erable was in dire need of that drinking buddy tonight.

It’s nothing. He probably didn’t mean it that way.

There’s no way a guy like him would be interested in someone like you.

Even psychos have their preferences. Where’s your confidence coming from?

Do you have a delusion of grandeur or something?

Erable desperately needed to hear these words. Seriously.

On the day of the incident, she was in a total panic. It took her another day to get her head together enough to ask someone for advice.

But even now, she wasn’t in the right frame of mind to realize this wasn’t something that could be solved by asking for advice.

“That’s not it at all. Can we look at this from another angle? Another angle—how does this look to you? Please?”

Camellia swung her legs, watching Erable’s desperate face.

“Another angle?”

Lieutenant Camellia, who had officially served in the 41st Division for five years, had a good reputation, though she wasn’t exactly ordinary.

She had more experience with banned substances like drugs and poisons. After dealing with mafia types in the underground market, she eventually secured a more stable job, which brought her to the 41st Division.

It was just another common example of how the roots of the 41st Division were deep in the underground. So common, in fact, that no one paid attention anymore.

Even Camellia herself would dismiss it, saying, “Yeah, that happened, but it’s so long ago.” She reacted as if it had been decades, not just a few years, which was a bit odd…

“So, a guy asks you to drink and have dinner, and why is it not what it seems? Are you sure you’re not just overthinking it?”

Camellia smirked, swirling her cocktail glass.

She was definitely enjoying this. At least one of them was having fun, and that was something.

Usually, with this kind of talk, one person is desperate, and the other is annoyed. That’s why Erable was paying for the drinks tonight.

“No, he didn’t suggest a drink or dinner at that exact moment.”

“Whatever.”

Camellia cut her off.

“The point is, he asked you to drink and have dinner, right? So why isn’t it what it seems? Is there something wrong with him? Like, maybe below the waist?”

“Lieutenant—”

“Is there? Or isn’t there?”

“How would I know?!”

She knew. She definitely knew.

But Erable wasn’t going to fall for Camellia’s bait. Whether she said “yes” or “no,” Camellia would definitely ask, “How do you know?”

And after that, she would definitely ask, “Have you done it?” If she said no, it would circle back to “Then how do you know?”

The answer was predetermined. All that was left was for her to fall into the endless loop.

“Tch, you’re too sharp.”

Ignoring Camellia’s complaint, Erable chugged her beer.

Her stomach churned. She may have avoided the bait, but it brought all those thoughts rushing back.

Erable knew way too much about that man.

That he was a monster with a physical level of 13, a predator in this rank-obsessed world that was just as bad as a caste system, and that he certainly had no problems below the waist.

Not only did she know this, but she knew it very well. She had read *a lot* about that man’s waist health.

The original novel was hardcore 19+.

They did everything. Honestly, it was a trash can.

With his high physical level, regular pain didn’t even make him flinch, and even if it did, one or two bio-ampoules would completely heal him. With an opponent like that…

Erable soothed her queasy stomach with more alcohol.

This is why age restrictions exist. She had seen things way too young, and the shock had never faded.

“Sweetie, if you don’t know, why don’t you find out?”

But I do know.

“As long as a man’s healthy there, nothing else matters. That’s all that counts.”

I’m telling you, he’s extremely healthy.

Muttering words she couldn’t say aloud, she suddenly remembered the time in the original when Dezeb had strangled his partner.

It was because she felt like she was being strangled now.

That man hadn’t had a relationship. He had simply used the other person as a tool.

Yet the partner clung to him, accepting the pain he gave as pleasure… Now that she thought about it, this wasn’t BL; it was just a horror story.

“Look at your face. Is it really that bad? Is he that ugly?”

‘No, he’s incredibly handsome. Scarily handsome, actually. And with a 13-level appearance to boot… This is top-level classified information in the division.’

If he ever found out that she knew this, even her connections to the Count’s family wouldn’t save her—she rubbed the back of her cold neck.

What a comedy this was.

It would’ve been better not to know. Better to just die cleanly and cluelessly!

“Is his appearance really the problem here?”

“It’s not, actually. If he’s good-looking, great. If not, just turn off the lights and get on with it. Yeah, just turn off the lights and go for it.”

“Yes, thank you for that wonderful advice…”

“It’s all just wisdom for everyday life, my dear.”