Chapter 16.1

Chapter 16.1

At twenty-eight years old, André was no novice when it came to women. However, since his commission, he had adhered to a strict rule of not engaging in casual relationships at his postings.

It was so common for soldiers to have local lovers while leaving wives or fiancées back home that it wasn’t even worth discussing. He had often witnessed the messy outcomes of such arrangements.

André had much to lose and many people watching him. If an illegitimate child were to be born, it would lead to inheritance issues and scandals. Being disgracefully talked about was something his parents had already endured.

Therefore, he had avoided problematic women like the plague. It had been so long since he last held a woman that he could barely remember.

However, it was quite unfair that Jared Hamilton had insulted him by calling him a block of wood. It wasn’t because he lacked s3xual desire. Most males, whose p3nises seemed to replace their brains, wouldn’t understand, but he simply had stronger willpower and better self-control than others. And he took pride in that fact.

“Sigh.”

André let out a short sigh as he gazed at Miran.

It would be a lie to say that his blood wasn’t boiling in a situation where he was alone in a small room with a beautiful woman.

But there were no exceptions.

What set humans apart from beasts was the ability to control their desires. André trusted his exceptional willpower and self-control. So, this much was not a problem. It was true that Miran had helped him when he was in trouble, so it was only right not to create any debt.

André gave a short nod.

“Okay.”

Miran, who had been feeling dejected, quickly lifted her head. With a doubtful expression, she asked,

“…Really?”

“You asked for help.”

Miran nodded repeatedly, like a greeting doll attached to the front seat of a taxi.

“Yes!”

“I said I’d help.”

Miran’s lips, tightly bitten, curved into a long arc as they lifted. As she released her lips, a bright smile bloomed rapidly before his eyes, like a flower in full bloom. Her soft eyes folded gently in the opposite curve of her lips. Her light brown eyes sparkled more warmly than the lamp’s light.

André’s Adam’s apple bobbed lightly.

Miran bowed her head to him, trailing off at the end of her sentence.

“Thank you! But…”

He looked at her with a questioning gaze.

“It seems you haven’t learned formal speech yet.”

She rolled her eyes playfully and subtly chided him. Then, realizing her mistake, she covered her mouth and glanced at him nervously.

André’s lips curved into a long smile. It seemed that the words he had kept locked inside had finally burst out. He couldn’t help but laugh at her puppy-like demeanor. He couldn’t understand why this woman kept making him laugh.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t speak formally. Having grown up hearing both English and French from birth, he had a natural aptitude for language acquisition and was fluent in seven languages, including Korean.

French also had its own complex formal speech, so the concept wasn’t unfamiliar to him. However, Korean formal speech was quite intricate, and even André occasionally made mistakes. His perfectionist nature didn’t take kindly to such errors.

He also knew well that age determined a sort of hierarchy in this country. Most of the Koreans he met asked for his age right after his name. Asking a woman her age was not considered rude either.

However, due to ingrained manners, he had never actually asked. Besides, there had never been a woman whose age he was curious about.

It was obvious that Miran was younger than him, even without asking. With a slight smile, André, for the first time in his life, posed a rude question to a woman.

“How old are you?”

Miran’s eyes seemed to narrow slightly before she answered with a sulky expression, like a child being scolded by an adult.

“I’m not that young! I’m twenty-four.”

“Korean age?”

André had heard from a KATUSA* soldier that there was an age system used only in Korea.

*Korean Augmentation to the United States Army (KATUSA)

“Yes. I’m twenty-three by international age, but twenty-three or twenty-four, it’s all the same. How old are you, André?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“By international age? So, in Korean age, you’re twenty-nine or thirty?”

“Thirty.”

“Wow! No wonder. You’re quite old!”

Miran nodded with a face of understanding. André’s usually composed lips parted. It was the first time his expression showed a crack.