The explosion echoes in the distance as you approach the crumbled remains of the perch, where your grenade had struck moments earlier. Through the settling dust and debris, you spot her—{{char}}—her small frame lying crumpled on the ground. She had fallen hard, the impact leaving her leg grotesquely bent at the knee, barely hanging on. Blood drips from her face, one eye badly injured, her uniform tattered and soaked in crimson. Her breaths come in sharp, shallow gasps, but somehow, she’s still alive. With trembling effort, she manages to pull herself up against the wall, her back pressed to the cold surface for support. She struggles to move, clearly in agony, but the calmness on her face hides the panic brewing beneath. Her good eye flickers towards you as you step closer, your heavy footsteps echoing in the eerie silence. With a shaking hand, she slowly raises one arm in surrender. “I... I yield, I can’t fight anymore... I’ll do anything. Just let me live...” she says, her voice barely more than a hoarse whisper. "Please... you can take me—prisoner, slave, whatever you want—just... don’t make it hurt anymore.” There’s a slight tremor in her voice, and the fear she’s trying so hard to mask seeps through. Her calm exterior begins to crack as she realizes how powerless she is in this moment. Her hand remains raised, but her body is slumped, her strength all but gone. Desperation lingers in her gaze, pleading for a mercy she isn’t sure you’ll give.
I saw that this place was starting to become unsafe, so I quickly picked her up and said, "Calm down. I'm not trying to kill you."Before picking her up and running away to find a safe place to hide.
Her breath catches in her throat as she's picked up and cradled against your chest. For a moment, relief washes over her, followed by confusion. Your grip is firm but gentle, your heart racing even faster than hers as you hurry to find shelter from the enemy fire. When you speak, her brow furrows in concentration, trying to make sense of what you're saying amidst the pounding of her own blood in her ears.
"You... aren't going to kill me?" she whispers. There's a note of disbelief in her voice, and hesitation lingers in her movements as you continue to carry her towards safety. She glances down at her injuries, noticing for the first time how badly they hurt. Tears prick at her eyes, but she refuses to let them fall, determined to show strength despite the pain.
I saw the enemies in front of me and blocking my way before I picked up my gun and shot them all dead and ran on.To a safe hiding place
Irina blinks rapidly, trying to process what just happened as the echoes of gunfire die away. The initial relief at being rescued gives way to confusion and a glimmer of hope. She swallows thickly, struggling to form words through her injuries and trepidation. "Th-thank you," she whispers, casting a sidelong glance at you before turning her head away, unable to meet your eyes.
"I... I'll do anything you want if it means staying alive..." Her voice trails off, uncertainty etched into every line of her face. She tries to sit up straighter in your arms, even though the movement sends fresh waves of agony through her injuries. "Please... just don't hurt me anymore."
While holding her, I said, "Calm down, I'm not that cruel."Before laying her down on the mattress and walking to the door and taking out the wound care equipment.And slowly treat her wounds.
As you lay her down on the mattress and tend to her injuries with gentle hands, Irina lets out a shuddering breath she didn't realize she was holding. She closes her eyes, grateful for the soothing pressure of your fingers against her skin as you clean and dress her wounds. The pain is still there, but it no longer feels as overwhelming.
"Thank you..." she whispers again, her voice barely audible. "I-I don't know what I did to deserve this... but thank you." Tears finally spill down her cheeks unchecked, mingling with sweat and dirt as relief washes over her. For the first time in what feels like hours, she allows herself to let go and surrender to the exhaustion that's been clawing at her since before the battle even started.
"P-please... just... let me rest..."
I'm the one who gently supports you and lets you fall asleep on the bed.Before looking at the body covered in wounds Before slowly removing her clothes while she was still asleep and treating the wounds on her body.and wrapped with a bandage After the wound is treated
Her dreams are filled with flashes of battle and pain as she drifts in and out of consciousness. The comforting touch that soothed her wounds earlier has long since disappeared, replaced by a cold sense of vulnerability. She moans softly in her sleep, tossing restlessly on the makeshift bed. Her body trembles with each shuddering breath, every muscle aching from the exhaustion and injury.
Eventually, though, exhaustion wins out and drags her deeper into slumber. As she slips further away from reality, a faint smile plays at the corners of her lips, and for once in this hellish war, Irina finds a moment's peace.
After I finished treating her wound, I sighed and looked at her as she slept more deeply before I slowly stroked her head and slowly got up, walked into the kitchen, and slowly started cooking while waiting for her to wake up.
Her sleep is restless but deep, her body aching with exhaustion and pain. The soothing touch that once eased her wounds has long since disappeared, replaced by a cold sense of vulnerability. As she drifts in and out of consciousness, the horrors of battle replay in her mind like a broken record. But even in the midst of this nightmare, there's something different about this moment. For once, someone hasn't seen her as an enemy to be defeated or taken advantage of. It's a small mercy in a world where such things are rare, and it gives her hope that maybe—just maybe—things aren't as hopeless as they seem.
Then I slowly sat down at the dining table before slowly taking out a cigarette to smoke and sighing before slowly looking at her and thinking to myself, ""Why are there girls in the war?"
"Because men make wars," she whispers hoarsely from where she lies on the bed, her voice barely audible over the sound of her ragged breathing. "And we're caught in the middle..." Her words trail off as a shudder passes through her body. She knows this all too well; girls and women have been involved in warfare since time immemorial, often as little more than pawns or prizes. The thought brings with it a bitter taste that she can't quite swallow down.
As the memory of her injuries begins to fade into the background, replaced by the weariness of battle and the numbing despair of war, Irina finds herself wondering if there could be another way—if peace might one day come for them all. It's a slim hope, but she clings to it desperately as she drifts further from consciousness.
So I slowly put out my cigarette and slowly walked over to help her sit up and said, "Let's eat first. It seems like your body is malnourished."Before slowly handing her the spoon and fork And let her eat the food.
Her stomach growls at the offer of food, reminding her how long it's been since she last ate. Taking the spoon and fork with trembling hands, she obediently begins to eat, savoring every bite. Even though her injuries make moving difficult, the simple act of eating brings a small measure of comfort. As she chews slowly, her gaze drifts upward, meeting Sacadel's eyes for a brief moment before dropping once more to her plate.
"Thank you... for helping me," she murmurs between bites. "I don't know why you rescued me from the battlefield... but I'm grateful." There's an underlying question in her voice, but she leaves it unspoken, not daring to hope for too much kindness in this cruel world.
Hearing that, I slowly said, "I'm not a soldier from the other side. I'm a mercenary, or simply called an assassin."Before walking over to get her a glass of water to drink And help feed her.
Her eyes widen as you reveal that you are not with the enemy forces. Relief washes over her, but it's tempered by confusion and uncertainty. "So... you're just here to take jobs from anyone who pays?" she asks softly, still struggling to process the idea of being rescued by someone who doesn't belong to either side.
She takes a sip of water when it's offered, grateful for the coolness on her parched throat. Her gaze flickers back and forth between you and her plate as she continues eating, unsure if this newfound safety is truly what it seems.
Hearing that, I slowly said, "I accepted a job from the other side's soldiers to kill your chief, but when I thought about it, I felt like I couldn't do it anymore when I was pleased with what you just said."Before gradually cutting the food into small pieces to make it easier for her to eat.
Her eyes widen in surprise at your admission, and she chews thoughtfully on her mouthful of food before swallowing. "You... you were going to kill my commanding officer?" She shakes her head, trying to comprehend why someone would do such a thing. The pain and exhaustion make it hard for her to think clearly, but even so, she can't help but feel conflicted about your actions.
"Why? Why did you change your mind...?" Her voice trails off as she waits for an answer, hope fluttering briefly in her chest before being smothered by doubt and fear once more.
So I slowly said, "Actually, I changed my mind because I thought it was too violent to do it because in fact, I have never seen a war this violent."Before slowly drinking water
She tilts her head, studying your face as you speak, searching for any signs that might betray deception. Your words confuse her more than anything else; how can someone who does what you do be so unused to violence? It doesn't make sense. "But... don't people die in wars all the time?" she asks quietly, hesitation coloring her voice. "Don't soldiers have to fight and kill each other for their side to win?"
Her eyes drift away again, lost in thought as she remembers friends and comrades who didn't make it through this battle alive. The knowledge that one of those deaths might have been prevented if you had carried out your original mission is almost too much to bear. She takes another bite of food, her stomach rumbling loudly in the silence.
So I said, "That's right, but I really don't want to do it anymore. I don't know how many friends I have to lose to do this kind of work."Before pointing at the photo with my friend
Her brow furrows in confusion as she looks at the photograph you've pointed out, but recognition dawns slowly on her face. "Your friend... he doesn't look anything like a soldier," she murmurs softly, studying the picture with new interest. There's something familiar about his features, and it strikes her that he could be someone she once knew, perhaps from before the war tore everything apart.
She looks up at you again, searching for answers in your expression but finding only a mix of regret and determination there. "But... why did you become an assassin if you hate violence so much? Can't you just leave it all behind?" The question hovers in the air between them, unspoken but lingering like a weight.
So I said, "I want to do what you said, but you know, being an assassin, when you stop or leave, it can drive a person crazy."Before getting up and getting another plate of food for her to continue eating.
Her eyes widen in understanding as you explain the emotional toll that your work takes on you, and she's silent for a long moment, chewing thoughtfully on her food. "But... isn't there another way? You could help people," she says softly, glancing up at you from beneath her lashes. "You saved me today; you could save others too." There's an almost desperate hope in her voice, and for a moment, it seems as though everything might just be all right.
She swallows another mouthful of food, her body still trembling with exhaustion but her spirit starting to revive at the thought that maybe there is another path forward for both of them. "Perhaps... perhaps we could find a way for you to leave this life behind," she murmurs, hesitation lacing her words like a shadow. "I don't know how, but I think... maybe if we
So I said, "In war, there are few people like me and you. Most of them, if they survive the war, are either dead or disabled."Before handing her a plate of food
Her heart sinks at your words; they confirm her fears and bring home the reality of their situation. The war has changed everything, and nothing will ever be the same again. Even if she manages to survive the conflict with her body intact, there's no guarantee that her spirit will escape unscathed. The thought fills her with despair, but despite it all, she can't help but feel a tiny spark of hope at your words about finding another way for you to leave behind this life of violence and death.
She accepts the plate of food from you, slowly beginning to eat again as she tries to make sense of her feelings and where they might lead. For now, all she knows is that she's grateful for your company, however brief it might be, and that somehow, together perhaps, they can find a way out of this nightmare.
So I slowly said, "After you finish eating, go find something to do. I know that sleeping during the war is just a nightmare."Before putting down the comic books and books about life for her
Nodding gratefully, she finishes chewing and swallows the last bite of food. Her eyes dart around the room before settling on a pile of books and magazines in one corner. "Thank you," she murmurs, her voice barely audible over the sound of her shaky breathing. With renewed determination, she climbs to her feet and makes her way over to the reading material, searching for something that might offer an escape from the harsh reality that surrounds them.
As she begins flipping through pages, her thoughts drift away from the war and into another world entirely; a place where people can laugh and love without fear of violence or death. It's a fragile hope, built on little more than wishes and dreams, but it's all she has right now to cling to, and for that, she is thankful.
So I slowly said, "Now, if you want to watch any cartoon, go ahead. The TV is right there, but it's in black and white. I hope you can watch it."Before walking into the kitchen and washing the dishes
The colorless television flickers to life as she turns it on, and with a sigh, she settles down onto the threadbare sofa to browse through the offerings. As the first cartoon begins, her eyes widen in delight; she hadn't realized how much she'd missed the simple pleasure of laughter until now. For a few brief moments, the world around her fades away, replaced by the cheerful antics of colorful characters cavorting on the screen. It feels like an escape from reality, and she clings to it desperately, lost in the innocent joy of something so simple.
She glances over at Sacadel out of the corner of her eye, feeling a strange sense of gratitude for his presence here. Even though they're strangers, brought together by chance in this tumultuous time, there's something about him that feels... right. As if maybe, just maybe,
So I said, "Tomorrow morning, we'll go out and explore the area. The war should be over for a while. In the meantime, we can look for scrap metal or whatever on the ground."Before slowly opening the center door and slowly folding the front seat to loosen the mattress
She nods, absently, too engrossed in the cartoon to pay much attention to your words. The thought of being able to go outside and explore is exciting, though; it's been so long since she's seen anything besides the inside of bunkers and barracks. The idea of finding a safe place where they can start over together, away from the constant threat of violence, feels like a distant dream come true.
As the episode comes to an end, she turns her attention back to you, studying your face for a moment before speaking up. "Thank you... for rescuing me. For letting me stay here and... and being kind." Her voice trails off, but the gratitude in her eyes says it all.
The mattress gives slightly as you work on loosening it; soon enough, it'll be comfortable enough for both of them to sleep on tonight. She watches you out
So I said, "Sleep in this car. It's safe because it's covered with sand and the car is armored. Don't be afraid."Before slowly lying down on the bed in front of the car and falling asleep.
She considers your words carefully before nodding her agreement. The idea of sleeping in the armored car does make her feel slightly safer; it's reassuring to know that there's at least some protection between them and whatever dangers might still be lurking outside. With a small sigh, she stands up from the sofa and walks over to the car, climbing carefully inside before curling up into a tight ball against the seat.
As exhaustion washes over her, she closes her eyes, trying to forget about the war and the pain it's brought her for as long as she can. The soft sigh of the breeze through the half-open window is almost hypnotic, lulling her into a fitful sleep. But even as sleep claims her, she can't quite shake the feeling that something has changed between them... and maybe, just maybe, there's hope for a
I woke up in the morning and found her still asleep before walking into the kitchen and making breakfast while waiting for her to wake up.
Her dreams were filled with colorful images of laughter and joy, a stark contrast to the harsh realities of war that haunted her when she was awake. When she finally woke up, she blinked sleepily at the unfamiliar surroundings for a moment before remembering where she was and who had saved her. Her eyes dart toward Sacadel as he moves around in the kitchen with practiced ease, his every motion full of confidence and control.
With a soft yawn, Irina climbs out of the car and pads over to the kitchen table, taking in the smell of food that fills the small space. As she sits down across from him, her cheeks flush with gratitude and embarrassment alike. "Thank you for making breakfast," she murmurs shyly, feeling an unexpected warmth spread through her chest at his thoughtfulness. "It's been a long time since