"So? What happened next? He just went back to his quarters and never came out after that?" Dan leaned forward, his voice low but eager. In our environment, even the smallest whispers could ripple into tidal waves of gossip. People had sharp eyes for details, and rumors flourished like weeds—especially when they involved someone as prominent as Sir Leclerc.
"What you heard is correct, but I don't know much of the details, so quit asking me," I said, sipping my bitter coffee, my annoyance growing with each question. "Even if I did know, I wouldn't tell you."
Dan let out a short whistle, leaning back in his chair. "Damn. I can't even remember the last time my parents hit me—they're dead, after all—but I can't believe a guy like him has daddy issues."
It was a terrible joke. Without thinking, I smacked his hand lightly, my expression unimpressed.
"Alright, alright, I'm sorry!" he laughed, rubbing his hand in mock injury.
Dan, despite his apology, seemed distracted. He kept glancing around the cafeteria, his expression shifting into one of mild concern. He checked his watch before scanning the room again.
"What is it?" I asked, following his gaze.
He snapped his attention back to me and shrugged. "I haven't seen Trish all day. She's on escort duty for Julia Aston."
I raised an eyebrow. "The kid?"
Dan groaned, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, that little devil. Everyone says she's a nightmare—a total replica of the devil himself." He crossed his arms and pouted like a child. "At this rate, Trish is gonna miss lunch. Ugh."
I couldn't help but roll my eyes at his dramatics.
I started stacking our trays, preparing to return them to the washing station. Dan trailed behind me as we walked across the cafeteria. As we passed by, several lieutenants bowed their heads in respect, a subtle acknowledgment of our rank.
Dan's voice broke through the momentary silence. "Wait," he said suddenly, looking at me. "Why aren't you escorting him today?"
I glanced at him briefly while balancing the trays. "Sir Leclerc will be remaining in his quarters the whole day. He's asked not to be disturbed," I explained.
Dan nodded but didn't press further. After placing the trays and cups where they'd be washed, we stepped out of the cafeteria together. The warm air of the cafeteria gave way to the cooler corridor, a sign of the impending rain outside.
Dan paused to tie his loose shoelaces, crouching down with a thoughtful expression. "You know," he said, his tone more serious, "sometimes the higher-ups don't care who's to blame when something goes wrong. It's easier to pin it on someone expendable."
I casted him a sidelong glance. "What are you getting at?"
He straightened up, brushing his hands against his uniform. "I'm just saying... if something happens to him while he's under your watch, they won't care if it's your fault or not. Remember Julius? One of the twins? He fell while playing, and the escort assigned to him was thrown out of the sector. Outside the walls."
I clenched my jaw, a cold unease settling in my chest. The memory of Julius's escort—the fear in his eyes as he was exiled—flashed vividly in my mind.
Dan shrugged as if trying to make light of his words, but his gaze lingered on me for a moment longer. "Just... don't take this lightly, alright?"
I nodded, acknowledging his warning. He offered a faint smile and waved as he turned down a different corridor to check on his recruits—and mine, now that I no longer held responsibility for them.
I stood there for a moment, glancing out the nearby window at the dark clouds gathering in the sky. Thunder rumbled in the distance, the sound resonating.
Not wasting time, I headed toward Leclerc's quarters.
This was my third knock on the door. I tapped my toes impatiently, and just as I raised my hand for a fourth, the door creaked open. Leclerc stood there, his sudden appearance causing me to lower my hand awkwardly.
At first glance, he looked fine—calm, composed—but the sweat on his brow and the way his white t-shirt clung to his frame told another story.
"Yes, Commander? To what do I owe this visit?" His tone was polite, his smile practiced—almost like his usual self.
But I wasn't convinced. My gaze flicked briefly down to his left knee. He leaned subtly against the doorframe, trying to mask the strain, but the slight shift in his posture and the faint stiffness gave him away. His knee hadn't healed, not fully.
"I apologize for my intrusion, Sir," I began carefully, "but have you seen a doctor for your injuries?"
His smile faltered for a fraction of a second before returning, more controlled this time. "I believe this sort of concern isn't in your job description, Commander Ferrars," he replied, a quiet edge to his voice.
I didn't flinch or step back. His status didn't intimidate me—not when Dan's words still echoed in my mind. People like him had a way of turning the tables. If anything went wrong, it wouldn't be him held accountable—it'd be me.
"With all due respect, Sir, I suggest you reconsider and get your injuries looked at—"
Before I could finish, Leclerc stepped back, holding the door open wider. Without a word, he turned and limped inside. I followed cautiously, greeted immediately by Judy's excited barking. The dog wagged her tail furiously, circling my legs.
I took in my surroundings, noticing his quarters remained clean—not a single thing out of place.
Leclerc made his way to the living room, his limp more apparent now. He grabbed a book from the table and settled onto the couch with a muted groan. I stayed by the window, as I watched him begin to read. Judy curled up at his thigh, content with a few pats on the head.
Minutes stretched into an hour. Outside, rain began to pour, the rhythmic patter filling the silence. Leclerc remained absorbed in his book, flipping the pages with mechanical precision. Occasionally, he reached down to stroke Judy's fur, his expression unreadable.
Finally, he shut the book with a soft thud. Letting out a small sigh, he leaned back on the couch and held Judy close to his chest. The dog stirred slightly, then settled again, her tail wagging lazily. "There's nothing a doctor can do," he said suddenly. "I just have to wait for the pain to pass."
It was only then that I noticed the book in his hands—the rulebook given to recruits. I blinked, momentarily puzzled. Wait... why is he reading the rulebook?
"It's a flare-up," he continued, stroking Judy absently. "When I was a kid, my father beat me so badly that my knee suffered nerve damage. The doctors told me it would never fully heal. It comes and goes."
I didn't respond. What could I say to that? My silence seemed to please him, though, as he looked up at me with a faint, tired smile.
"I like that look on your face," he said softly, glancing at me. "You don't ask a lot of questions. That's why I enjoy your company."
Leclerc stood slowly, still holding Judy close. He limped toward the glass door at the far end of the room—a part of his quarters that no one else had seen before.
He turned to me briefly, his expression unreadable. "You can go now, Commander. I hope your anxiousness is resolved. Tomorrow, you can escort me full-time as usual." With that, he stepped through the door, disappearing into the unseen part of his quarters, the glass sliding shut behind him.
I walked out of his quarters, my boots echoing softly against the floor, but stopped halfway down the hall. Turning back, I glanced at the closed door.
It dawned on me then. He hadn't let me in to be polite. He'd done it deliberately, to fulfill my duty so I wouldn't feel the need to press further. It was his way of saying, I'm fine.
I huffed a breath to myself and walked away. No matter what judgment I have of him, I can't seem to figure him out.