Chapter 29

Chapter 29
Not yet.
Platon crouched with his body pressed into the hiding spot near the flag exactly as scheduled, listening carefully for Heydam to show up. Judging by the loud noises echoing from afar, it looked like his teammates were managing to hold their ground, which meant Heydam would likely appear very soon.
Just as Father stated, Lord Heydam is no typical child.
Anton—who served as Platon’s father and the leader of the pro-Daphne faction—had cautioned him before the training exercise commenced. Never underestimate Heydam simply because of his age. Let your guard down even slightly, and you will face the embarrassment of defeat against a ten-year-old.
Initially, Platon had felt no different from the rest of the cadets, eager to teach the provoking brat a lesson. Anton’s warning helped him clear his mind. From that point on, he observed Heydam closely on the training field and noticed the boy was watching them right back. The second he realized this, a cold shudder ran down his spine.
He was taking pleasure in our reactions.
The others mistook that gaze for mere arrogance. To Platon, it was entirely different. It wasn’t even the look of a hunter about to attack; it was the expression of a predator already seated at a fully prepared feast, calmly inspecting the meal.
I heard Lord Heydam only recently came back from roaming the Slums… Can a tiger cub truly remain a fierce beast?
Even while those thoughts raced through his mind, he never stopped monitoring for nearby sounds. Then, suddenly:
It has gone quiet…
Platon jerked his head up toward Heydam’s sector of the field.
What? Why did the noise stop?
Had they simply grown tired of shouting? The quietness had persisted for far too long for that explanation.
Or could those fools have crossed paths with Heydam midway and been wiped out?
An uneasy silence filled his thoughts with various possibilities. Talking the entire way was tiring, certainly, but an absence of sound this absolute? Had Heydam moved carelessly and gotten spotted? If Heydam had suffered a death ruling, the concluding buzzer for the exercise should have rung by now…
At that exact moment, an unexplained chill brushed against him. Platon flung himself sideways instinctively.
Thwack-thwack!
The second he rolled away, two paint pellets struck the exact location where he had been waiting.
“Close.”
The youthful voice no longer sounded like a mere child to Platon. Heydam Goodman stood there outfitted in pristine white winter gear designed to blend into the snow, completely free of any paint splatters. Goggles shielded his eyes and a mask hid his breath, yet Platon could still sense the dark eyes behind the lenses smiling.
How did he pinpoint my location and maneuver behind me?!
Worse still, he had never detected the approach until the boy was already within effective range. Platon had spent six grueling years hardening himself on this very training ground.
I have to move.
He had tumbled in panic and then simply remained there, staring up at Heydam like a fool. What felt even more humiliating was that Heydam just looked down at him, waiting patiently. The boy’s weapon never wavered. The gap between them wasn’t small, yet Platon felt certain the next shot would hit its mark.
Following a brief moment of calculation, he set his rifle down and slowly lifted both hands above his head.
The moment I raised that rifle, he would have fired.
At this distance and in this scenario, engaging in a gunfight was suicide. He decided to force the encounter into close combat. Fighting a child who barely reached his waist felt dishonorable, but Platon had previously sworn to secure victory by any means necessary.
“…How did you know I was setting an ambush here?”
“Only Platon was missing from the group that attacked my base. Since Platon specializes in long-range sniping, I figured he would be hiding behind the cover farthest from the flag.”
Platon stayed silent for a second, then pressed further.
“How did you know I wasn’t part of the assault squad? Everyone wore goggles and masks.”
“You cannot alter your physical build or your stride.”
“That is—”
Absurd. The height variations among the cadets were not that extreme, and one of them shared Platon’s exact height. As for his gait? Heydam had only seconds to observe any of them. Yet the boy insisted he had simply looked and recognized that Platon was missing.
“Ah, but when I actually saw them it got a bit confusing, so I pulled the masks off one by one to check.”
“What?”
“That is why it took me a while to get here.”
“What do you mean by that—”
It sounded precisely as though he had eliminated every single one of Platon’s teammates along the way. Heydam merely shook his head, finished with explanations.
“Regardless. I am also aiming for the fastest completion time, so I cannot keep playing with you. Would you like me to take you on in close combat instead?”
“…What?”
“You were stalling instead of taking a clean paint shot to finish it. It did not look like you would accept the outcome if you lost this way.”
Do not let him provoke you.
During the brief time he had watched this formidable opponent, Platon had already categorized Heydam’s hunting approach: a classic feline predator that plays with its prey. React with anger and the paint pellet would arrive instantly—the most humiliating conclusion possible.
If this is not mere mockery and he genuinely offers close combat first, I have no reason to decline.
Platon was a soldier, not a formal duelist or martial artist. He felt no need for empty pride when an opportunity presented itself.
“Shall we resolve this in close combat?”
“Certainly. On one condition.”
“I anticipated as much. Please name it.”
Platon presumed the physically smaller boy would demand something like using only one hand. What came out of Heydam’s mouth was entirely different.
“Promise that upon graduation you will become my adjutant.”
“…Pardon me?”
“Frankly, this operation proved a bit underwhelming… but watching you evade those shots earlier changed my mind. I made no sound at all, yet you sensed it and moved, did you not?”
“Th-that is correct, but—”
Platon stared at him with uncertain eyes.
“Is that not an excessively generous offer for me? Becoming Lord Heydam’s adjutant means…”
It meant becoming the assistant to the future Commander—rising to the exact rank currently held by Major General Meursault Pendleton.
“You realize my father is General Anton, do you not?”
“Did he not pass the word along? I know every officer’s next-door neighbors and even the name of the dog in their front yard.”
Was that not just empty bragging?
Platon remained quiet for a moment, then swallowed his pride and inquired cautiously.
“…Then can you tell me the name of the dog next door to us?”
“Puhah!”
Heydam laughed for so long that Platon’s face burned with embarrassment.
“My apologies. You are the first person who actually asked.”
“So it was merely a figure of speech—”
“Winter. Likely named that because it was born during winter.”
I do not even know the name of the neighbor’s dog…
The fact that Heydam genuinely knew it was unsettling. Far more frightening was that the weapon aimed at Platon never trembled once while the boy laughed and chatted. Even a seasoned cadet could not accomplish that.
I would almost prefer to believe the military manufactured him as a bioweapon.
“Anyway. Make your choice quickly. Only a few minutes remain on the fastest-clear record.”
The casual confidence that he could finish Platon within minutes was irritating, yet refusing close combat would simply result in getting hit by paint pellets. Platon had originally planned to propose the hand-to-hand fight himself; somehow, the roles had reversed.
“I accept resolving this through close combat.”
“Good. Stand up slowly. Kick the rifle you dropped over there.”
Thorough until the very end. Platon rose, kicked the rifle far away, and faced Heydam. The moment the weapon left his sight, Heydam casually tossed his own rifle aside as well.
He actually threw it away.
Platon had expected the boy to keep his weapon ready just in case. Unless Heydam truly was some kind of military bioweapon, defeating Platon in hand-to-hand combat should be nearly impossible.
Is winning this exercise not even his primary objective?
The realization that this entire display might simply be recruitment for an adjutant struck him with sudden clarity. He nodded to himself like a man who had finally comprehended the situation.
If he can display ability like this, I can serve Lord Heydam without any bias… Father was correct. He is no ordinary individual.
“…Cease thinking useless thoughts and attack me.”
Even Heydam’s flat tone sounded almost bashful to Platon’s ears.
“Then, here I come.”
Platon drew the training dagger from his belt and charged forward. The blade was engineered to retract into the hilt upon impact, leaving behind only a paint stain. He had no intention of playing with a child by landing multiple minor blows; a single clean thrust to the throat would end it.
And then—
“One-pattern approach, huh.”
Beep—
The fatal-wound signal chimed in Platon’s ear. Heydam evaded the thrust as though he knew precisely where it would land, then drove his own dagger into Platon’s midsection. Looking down, Platon saw not one but several overlapping paint spots—how many times had the boy struck in that single moment?
A small, firm hand locked tightly around the wrist holding the dagger.
“Wha—?”
His balance vanished entirely. Platon crashed heavily onto the ground. Heydam had used Platon’s own momentum against him. He maintained his hold on the dagger, but Heydam’s knee came down with crushing weight onto Platon’s right wrist.
Heavy…?!
The pressure on his forearm bore no resemblance to a child’s weight—it felt more like heavy sandbags.
So he tricked me into attacking first?
There was no time to complete the thought. A dagger flashed toward him; Platon grabbed the wrist with his free hand and twisted—only to watch the blade leave Heydam’s right hand, spin through the air, and settle perfectly into his left hand.
What the—!
Thud-thud-thud!
Vital points absorbed strike after strike. The fatal-signal chimes accumulated until they rang in his ears like a persistent hum. Platon concluded that further resistance was pointless.
I lost…
In that instant, he clearly saw Heydam’s eyes through the goggles: entirely devoid of emotion. Whether he should feel grateful that the boy was not enjoying the act, or horrified that anyone could maintain such a gaze while stabbing another human being, he could not decide.
The mechanical motions persisted for a few more seconds until the death ruling officially registered. Almost instantly, the end-of-exercise buzzer echoed across the training ground, followed by an announcement that made Platon question his own hearing.
TRAINING ANNOUNCEMENT
A Team: All Personnel Eliminated. B Team Wins.
Did he genuinely eliminate every single one of them on his way here…?
Covered completely in paint, Platon sat in a daze. Through that haze, he watched Heydam’s back as the boy walked unhurriedly toward the enemy flag, pulled his own flag from his coat, and swapped them. Still not a single paint mark marked his gear. A pure white uniform, spotless from collar to boots.