The next day was Sunday.

  Perhaps because of the consecutive days of winter training,

  he didn't feel rested even after snatching some sleep in his sleeping bag.

  His whole body felt as heavy as water-soaked cotton.

  Chazra washed his face roughly with cold water, got into his uniform, and picked up his phone.

  [Today’s the day for church, right?

  Ahmadi said he found something—

  could you text me if you find out what it is?

  He’s being vague.

  It’s cold out, so be careful.

  If you’re tired, just rest for today. I love you.]

  Message sent.

  He immediately headed to the parade ground where his men were gathered.

  Everyone’s faces were swollen from accumulated fatigue, but their eyes were still sharp and alive.

  “Alright, let’s stay strong and finish today without any accidents. Eat breakfast and assemble by 08:30. Dismissed.”

  As he walked to the mess hall with the other officers,

  Chazra checked his phone out of habit.

  There was no reply.

  ‘Is she not up yet? What time was the service? Since I’ve been so indifferent, I really have no idea...’

  He clicked his tongue and put the phone back in his pocket.

  On his way out after finishing breakfast, Jerome called out to him.

  “Yeah, alright.”

  Just as he was about to leave the operations room, Chazra spotted two unfamiliar men passing by in the distance.

  Their military bearing was unusual, but they didn't belong to this unit.

  “Jerome, who are those guys?”

  “Ah, those two? What were their names again...

  Did they both start with B? Or was it C?

  Anyway, you'll be meeting them soon.”

  Jerome said, chewing gum nonchalantly.

  “I heard they’re the new Commander and Regimental Commander.

  A couple of 'parachutes' sent down from the top.”

  “You’re telling me a Special Ops unit got a couple of parachuted-in commanders?

  Even so, what the hell are they doing here?

  The headquarters is at MacDill Air Force Base in Florida, isn't it?

  Did they just come to say hello?”

  The idea of a Commander being a parachuted-in political appointee was unimaginable,

  but their presence here was even harder to understand.

  The detachment at Fort Devens, Massachusetts, where Chazra was stationed, was the birthplace of the Green Berets—

  a place that upheld that legacy and remained a key stronghold for the elite few of the 10th Special Forces Group.

  This legacy was exactly why Chazra had fought to be here.

  To see it tossed aside for a political whim felt like an insult to everything he stood for.

  However, no matter how elite they were, this was still only a detachment-sized element.

  Most of the other permanent personnel on the base were primarily tasked with supporting Army Reserve training;

  it wasn't a place of high enough status for a Commander to be personally stationed.

  “I don't really know either. Maybe they're just visiting since the headquarters is moving here?”

  Unlike Jerome, who spoke casually, Chazra was startled.

  He couldn't believe the history of Special Operations Command could be changed so easily.

  “What? The headquarters? Here? Who on earth made such a crazy decision?”

  “Don't you even watch the news?

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  Apparently, the new Secretary of Defense pushed hard for it.

  Something about strengthening homeland security and tightening surveillance in the Northeast."

  Jerome waved his hand dismissively.

  "Who cares?

  We just do what the brass tells us and focus on getting promoted.

  We'll find out the details at the inauguration ceremony once this training is over.

  Don't worry about it and just do well in today's training.”

  “The ones deciding your promotion this time aren't those gentlemen, but our company's evaluation scores.”

  He had a point.

  Chazra nodded.

  He had no room to worry about those parachuted-in officers right now.

  Leading his men through this cold today was the priority.

  The wind was even more vicious than yesterday.

  The dry, biting wind made his skin feel parched and brittle.

  The soldiers, who had started out energetically, were gradually falling silent.

  “Alright, everyone, see that village over there? We’re going to rest there, so hang in there just a little longer.”

  “Y-yes… sir…”

  Their mouths were so frozen that the replies barely came out.

  The harsh wind scattered their voices.

  Chazra instinctively sensed danger.

  If they pushed through the march like this, cases of frostbite would be inevitable.

  About thirty minutes later, they took a break on the road near the entrance to the village.

  The local residents passed by without much interest, perhaps used to seeing soldiers.

  “Don’t talk to civilians, and if anyone tries to pick a fight, don’t respond. It’s dry out, so be especially careful with cigarette fires. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir! But... how long are we resting here?”

  Michael asked, his lips trembling violently.

  Desperation was etched in the soldiers' eyes.

  Chazra made a decision.

  Even if their training scores were docked, he couldn't let his men freeze to death.

  “Master Sergeant Michael Carey.

  Take about five men and follow me.

  I’m going into the village to ask for cooperation.

  We need to rest in a warm place for at least an hour.”

  At those words, a faint glimmer of color returned to the soldiers' faces.

  “Second Lieutenant Danny Rogers.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “Keep the rest on standby—no trouble. Get the frequencies set and keep your phone on, just in case.”

  “Understood, sir!”

  Having finished his orders, Chazra led Michael and the five soldiers into the village.

  In principle, this was prohibited.

  If this were reported, disciplinary action might be unavoidable.

  ‘Even if I get disciplined or our training scores are docked because of this... it can’t be helped.’

  Suddenly, Asha’s face, waiting at home, flashed through his mind.

  With the baby coming soon,

  she might be disappointed if her husband missed a promotion or faced disciplinary action.

  It was a shameful prospect for a man with a family to provide for.

  His chest ached at the thought, but Chazra shook his head.

  ‘No, Asha would understand.

  If I tell her it was to save my men...

  yeah, she’d surely tell me I did the right thing and hug me.’

  He comforted himself as he led the soldiers.

  He believed this was the best decision he could make.

  In the middle of the village, a fairly large church came into view.

  “It would be perfect if we could get in there.”

  “It’s Sunday, so they should be in the middle of a service, right?

  If we explain the situation, I think they’ll let us in.”

  Just as Michael said, the parking lot in front of the church was full of cars,

  and the faint sound of hymns drifted out from behind the closed doors.

  It was a peaceful scene.

  Vrrr—, vrrr—.

  Right then, the phone in his chest pocket began to vibrate loudly.

  Chazra glanced around for a moment, then added in a low but firm voice.

  “And everyone, sling your rifles behind you.

  We can't let the civilians in service be scared when they see us.

  Stand by without causing a stir.”

  “Yes, sir! Sling rifles!”

  At Michael’s acknowledgment, the soldiers slung their rifles behind them in perfect unison.

  They were reliable subordinates, indeed.

  Chazra confirmed this and stepped away from the group, seemingly relieved.

  “And contact Lieutenant Rogers.

  Tell him we might be a little late.

  Tell them to use all the cold-weather gear for this afternoon—don’t hold back.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll do that.”

  While Michael organized the troops,

  Chazra stepped out of the group, pulled off his gloves,

  and took out the vibrating phone.

  The vibration at his fingertips continued without stopping.

  ‘Wait, it’s not a call? Who is it? Zaydan? Or Ahmadi?’

  The duration of the vibration was too long to be a simple reply to the text he’d sent Asha this morning.

  Tap. Tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap.

  Sleet—half rain, half snow—began to strike his face from the sky.

  As Chazra looked up, cold liquid trailed down his cheek.

  ‘Water makes the body temperature drop faster.

  My men are in danger.

  I have to check this quickly and finish negotiations with the church.’

  He hurriedly unlocked the phone.

  The tips of his fingers trembled slightly as he scrolled down.

  The senders were varied: Ahmadi, his mother, Asha, and even his grandmother.

  Messages from the entire family, sent simultaneously, were flooding the screen.

  As he read through the contents, Chazra’s pupils shook as if an earthquake had struck.

  Words disintegrated before his eyes, losing their meaning and scattering away.

  His brain was rejecting the information coming in through his optic nerves.

  The sentences on the screen spat out only the truth—

  truth too horrific to accept, no, truth that simply should not exist.

  Thank you for being here.