But this invitation came a bit too suddenly.
Expressionless, Cassia turned his head to look at Yejielin, the girl beside him who was smiling lightly. He didn't know what kind of reply he should give her. His heart was full of hesitation toward this invitation—after all, he knew almost nothing about the current situation, and the two of them hadn't even exchanged more than a few words. To him, Yejielin's enthusiasm felt overwhelming.
"Of course, I won't give you time to think about it. The more you know, the harder it becomes to pull you in. This state is actually the best—it all depends on how you weigh me in your heart." Yejielin's attitude was utterly carefree. The wooden clogs on her feet thudded against the ground, like words of provocation, echoing bang, bang.
"If I refuse now, will there still be a chance to join later?" Cassia tried probing for extra conditions. To him, the military school was a blank, pristine sheet of paper—he could not make out anything from it. And after his experiences on the train, he understood even more clearly how important it was to have familiar faces or people he could trust.
"Of course not. My alliance is lifelong. There's only ever one chance. Once you decide, everyone is bound together, for life." Yejielin spoke solemnly. "Normally, bringing someone in requires strict investigation and assessment before deciding if they qualify to join. This time is the first, and the last, exception. After all, my father always told me quantity is as important as quality, and also that one must have an investor's vision. Even if it carries great risks."
"Your father's a businessman?"
"Yes. Why, are you tempted?" Yejielin smiled.
"My father isn't just any businessman, but a famous one. In my alliance, money and food are always sufficient." She continued, "That's one of the most basic benefits. And joining doesn't restrict your freedom, nor force you to do things you don't want to do. Think of it as a backing—a network of people you can truly trust. At military school, each grade has a casualty rate of over fifteen percent. For first-years, it can reach thirty percent. If there's unrest on the frontlines, that number climbs even higher. So those of us who value our lives must find strong allies early."
She looked at Cassia. "Since the military school made an exception for you, I also trust your strength. It's that simple. Do you accept?"
"Casualty rate?"
Yejielin only smiled, offering no explanation—another baited hook.
Cassia didn't press further. He kept walking, lost in thought. He felt he would most likely disappoint her. He knew his own limits too well. Just as Yejielin had said, the less he knew, the more it benefited her—but for him, it was nothing but trouble. He was in a completely passive position. He wanted to refuse. He had no real reason to accept. The only possible motivations were money and basic intelligence. But he saw no need to entangle himself in student alliances right after arriving at military school.
A long silence stretched between them. Many students passed by, some turning their heads toward the beautiful girl with faint reddish hair. Against her, Cassia's plain attire became the perfect backdrop.
"Made up your mind? The cafeteria is your deadline. If you don't answer by then, I'll consider it a refusal. Don't say I never gave you a chance." Yejielin began pressing him.
"If I join, then matters about the school, and financial issues, will all be taken care of?" Cassia asked.
"Of course! Allies are people you can entrust your back to on the battlefield. Sharing basic intelligence is a given." Yejielin replied. "As for money, don't even worry. To me, money is just numbers—so long as you pass the probation period and aren't eliminated."
"It's really that simple. So? Do you accept? During the probation period, if you want to withdraw, you only need to perform poorly, and you'll be weeded out. I won't ask for the invested resources back." Yejielin gave him a way out, but the curve of her lips made Cassia feel it was all a trap.
"Hey, the cafeteria's just ahead. Do you need more time to think?" Yejielin stopped by the path, where wooden benches were placed. Perfect for sitting.
"Why me?" Cassia sat down beside her, catching the faint scent of roses in the air.
"Isn't it obvious? Because you're a genius—the professors acknowledge it. I may not trust my own judgment, but theirs is worth trusting. This school rests on money and these rare, invaluable faculty members. So? Be a man, decide quickly. Why do I feel you're even more hesitant than I am?" She frowned.
"…Alright, I'll join." Cassia sighed. Seeing her smile, he felt as if he had boarded a pirate ship.
"Welcome aboard." Yejielin said politely. The clogs on her feet struck the ground more triumphantly than ever.
Cassia followed behind, already like her shadow.
On the way back from fetching water, he asked many questions that weighed on his mind. As an ally now, Yejielin answered them in detail.
The military school's courses were few in category, but required mastering massive amounts of knowledge within five years—knowledge spanning all fields. Not just theory, but also physical conditioning, especially combat ability, which the school prioritized.
Much of each year's curriculum was practical combat. Not drills, but real missions with live weapons in dangerous places. That's where the casualty rate came from—in plain words, the death rate. It varied by year, with the first and third years always the highest.
New students lacked experience, often treating missions as drills—until hot blood splashed across their faces, when that illusion was shattered.
Third year was another hurdle. Missions grew tougher, often in extreme weather. Already dangerous, such missions turned deadly with nature as an additional enemy. The death rate was highest here for that reason.
"You can think of the military school as a special Imperial institution. While they train us, they also exploit our growing value. Once you insert your code card into the slot, you're already a special operative, deployable anywhere. You could be an agent, a soldier, an assassin, or part of any Imperial institution. Not only must you survive five years of harsh academics, but you must also stay alive. Only then will you earn the status and power promised at the end." Yejielin said.
She smiled: "The essence of military school is a filter. The weak are discarded—that means death. The strong remain—that means power. That's why it produces so many elites every year. It's simple: anyone could do the same. Cast aside the weak, keep only the strong."
Cassia stayed silent. This concept of the school was completely different from what he had believed. But soon, he accepted it. Theory and reality were always two very different things. To truly forge soldiers, the crucible of battle was essential. Before the throne of steel, only the strong could rise to the top.
"Oh, and you still have a big problem unsolved." Yejielin suddenly recalled something, turning back to interrupt his thoughts.
Cassia was bewildered—he had barely been at the school for an hour.