The Dog Needs a Master

“Ah...”

Now that she thought about it, Erabelle couldn’t even remember when she had bought that milk. As for the canned fruit, it had already been close to expiring when she brought it home, intending to throw it out. Apparently, it had all expired by now.

She suddenly felt awkward, as though some private flaw of hers had just been exposed.

“That would explain why you’re in such poor physical condition, Lieutenant.”

It’s just how I was born... she thought, but she didn’t dare say it aloud.

Because she was scared.

“I understand that some of it is natural, but eating properly could at least keep things from getting worse, don’t you think?”

...Did I accidentally say that out loud?

“It’s written all over your face.”

So basically, if I want to survive, I need to learn how to control my expressions.

Erabelle forced a smile.

“I’ll be more careful, sir.”

“Good. Anyone would ruin their health eating like this. If you’re already in poor condition, you need to take even better care of yourself.”

She had heard that before. Count Virgo Hag used to tell her the same thing all the time.

Why the division commander was suddenly saying it too, she had no idea.

Was it because of the blood tests?

“Sir, pardon me, but... how often will the blood draws be scheduled?”

“Don’t go running back to base in the middle of the night again.”

“I’m sorry. If you give me a schedule, I’ll make sure to manage my condition accordingly.”

“There is no schedule. If you’re that eager to manage your health while having blood drawn, go donate at a blood bank.”

Fair point.

But then why the beer...?

Erabelle cast a mournful glance at the can in Dezeb’s hand.

Why do I have to feel guilty about drinking a beer in my own home after work?

Still, it was better than dying.

So she would keep tiptoeing around him.

“Excuse me for a moment.”

She abruptly stood, grabbed her training clothes from the drying rack on the veranda, and headed for the bathroom.

He wouldn’t complain about me washing up, would he...?

She shut herself inside the bathroom as though fleeing for her life—

and found an entirely different horror waiting for her.

Men’s... size 2XL...?

An opened box of men’s underwear sat on the shelf.

One pair was already missing.

Which means he’s wearing them...

Seized by a terrible premonition, Erabelle cautiously lifted the lid of the laundry hamper.

Then quietly lowered it again.

Inside lay Dezeb Avganis’s discarded clothes, neatly tossed into the hamper.

She slowly raised her head.

A brand-new toothbrush sat in the cup beside the sink.

It was pink.

***

“It’s a stomach ulcer.”

Early in the morning, before reporting for duty, Erabelle lay curled up on a bed in the infirmary, clutching her stomach.

Lieutenant Camillia, the military doctor, had just delivered the diagnosis.

A stress-induced gastric ulcer.

“What the hell have you been doing lately? Yesterday it was gastritis, and today it’s an ulcer. What, are you leveling up?”

“So the max level is... death?”

“At this rate, you’ll reach it soon.”

Erabelle groaned, still clutching her stomach.

It had taken a miracle just to get into bed the night before.

She had been forced to lie beside the division commander.

Completely sober.

No alcohol.

Nothing.

An extreme environment.

In the end, she hadn’t slept at all.

Her stomach lining had paid the price.

“This really is a war zone...”

“Huh?”

The abrupt declaration earned her a sharp look from Camillia.

“That’s the only explanation. Well, maybe it’s a laboratory, but... with this body? There wouldn’t be much value in that. Which leaves only the war zone.”

“Did you sign away your organs behind my back or something? Are you in debt?”

“...Just give me a painkiller.”

Erabelle clammed up again.

Camillia let out a sharp sigh as she stared down at her.

What the hell has she gotten herself mixed up in for the higher-ups to be involved...?

She was curious.

But, truthfully...

she didn’t want to know.

Whatever it was, it would be...

Camillia shook her head, brushing aside the unpleasant thought.

“Forget the painkillers. Go to the clinic. Your noise levels are getting worse. You know perfectly well your whole body is falling apart because of that. Why are you being so stubborn?”

“It’s not that. This is just stress.”

“Stress?!”

“What? You said it yourself. A stress-induced ulcer, right? Wait... was that a lie? Are you telling me the doctor lied to her patient?”

“That stress is because of the noise!”

Camillia exploded, then immediately forced herself to calm down.

She drew in a long breath and slowly exhaled.

She’s a patient. If I hit her, I’ll only create more work for myself.

“Come on. Just once. There’s a new girl at the clinic. She’s really pretty. Grade 4 body type. All you have to do is lie still with your eyes closed, and she’ll take care of everything. I’ll pay for the first session, alright? What do you say?”

“I think the painkiller is wearing off. Can I get another dose?”

“Does this look like a bar to you?! What is this, ‘one more bottle’?!”

“Augh!”

Camillia finally flicked Erabelle hard on the forehead and glared at her.

“You’re going to die at this rate! You’re already dehydrated from all the tranquilizers!”

“Yeah, and that’s why I’m getting IV fluids. See?”

“You think medicine fixes everything?! Huh?! Do you?!”

“Well... most things...”

Camillia was rendered speechless by the complete sincerity on Erabelle’s face.

“Actually... while we’re at it, could I get some more medication? One set of stimulants, a painkiller injection, and, um... a muscle relaxant too?”

The worst part?

Camillia was one of the people who had been supplying her with those drugs in the first place.

“You just picked some up not long ago...”

“I think I’ve built up a tolerance.”

Even if Camillia refused, Erabelle would probably find the drugs somewhere else and take them anyway.

Lieutenant Camillia sighed again as she listened to Erabelle casually rattle off an entire list of restricted substances without the slightest concern for their side effects.

“You’re seriously not going to live long at this rate.”

“I am going to live a long life. Long enough to smear poop on the walls when I’m senile.”

“...Sure.”

“I’ll smear some on your walls too, Lieutenant.”

“......”

Should I hit her again?

Camillia found herself seriously considering it.

***

“Why is the infirmary sending a report...?”

Ori muttered, holding a data pad during an external operation.

At his words, Commander Dezeb Avganis lifted his boot from the neck of the man pinned beneath him and turned his head.

“Oh. Give me that.”

“Did you ask them to send this, Commander?”

“Yeah.”

With a dull crack, Dezeb nudged the limp body aside with the toe of his boot and took the pad.

Just as he began reading the screen, a spray of blood splattered across it.

“......”

Dezeb ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek and looked toward Virgo Hag.

“Uh...”

Virgo gave him an awkward grin.

“I swear that wasn’t on purpose...”

Without saying a word, Dezeb flicked the blood from the pad and pulled a knife from Ori’s trouser leg.

“Aaaagh!!”

Virgo screamed and clutched his wrist.

Dezeb casually shoved aside the twitching dog at his feet, wiped the remaining blood from the screen, and resumed reading.

It was a report from the infirmary.

As he skimmed through it, a puzzled frown settled over his face.

“Stomach ulcer?”

Now it was an ulcer?

Yesterday it had only been gastritis.

“What the hell did you feed her?”

It was healthy oatmeal, Dezeb thought indifferently in response to Ori’s question.

Tch. I went out of my way to make sure she ate something decent, and this is what happens.

As he grumbled inwardly, Virgo crept back toward him like a recurring bad habit.

“Thinking of poisoning her? If so, I can—”

Dezeb idly twisted the knife still embedded in Virgo’s arm.

“Aaagh—!!”

Virgo crumpled to the ground again, where Aries enthusiastically began kicking him around like a soccer ball.

Meanwhile, Dezeb kept reading the report.

All that effort he had put into trying not to scare her—

and it had been almost completely useless.

“But Commander,” Ori ventured cautiously, “are you really not going to proceed with Lieutenant Erabelle?”

Dezeb raised an eyebrow and glanced at him.

“Why? Did the results come back compatible?”

“Yes, sir.”

“For real? Seriously? Wow... Erabelle really does have the worst luck—”

Sigh...

Dezeb shot Virgo a look.

Virgo immediately fell silent, cold sweat breaking out across his face.

Ori quickly continued his report, effectively saving him.

“We ran six additional tests. Every one of them came back compatible. Her matching rate is exceptionally high—97.4%.”

“Is that so?”

Dezeb’s attention returned to the pad.

“Yes, sir. So... why haven’t you done it yet?”

Ori voiced the question everyone had been wondering about.

Compatible or not, if Dezeb wanted to do it, that alone had always been enough.

Since when had he cared about technicalities like compatibility?

Of course, the fact that he wanted to do it in the first place was strange enough.

But life was strange.

Anything could happen.

What was truly bizarre was that Dezeb was restraining himself.

“She’s terrified of me.”

Dezeb sighed as he lit a cigarette.

The acrid stench of burnt blood mingled with the smoke.

It had been a while since he had personally joined an operation.

There hadn’t even been any need for him to come along today.

He had simply felt like moving his body.

Probably the result of having restrained himself for the past several days.

Everyone had been wondering the same thing.

What exactly is he waiting for?

“If she passes out in the middle of it, that wouldn’t be any fun.”

“There’s a new prototype stimulant available. Development just finished. Give her a few injections of that, and she definitely won’t faint.”

“No point breaking someone who listens well and does her job properly.”

It’s only a matter of time anyway...

The dogs exchanged baffled looks.