Days bled into weeks at the Kararagi vanguard, and for the first time since the "incident" at the ruins, Rem felt her mood begin to lift. The crushing depression that had haunted her since leaving Subaru and her children was replaced by a strange, buoyant lightness.
But the clarity brought a new kind of horror.
Rem realized the "medicine" the military physicians were giving her to "manage the strain" of her contract with Tia was actually a potent stimulant. It made her feel good, almost happy, but on the battlefield, it turned her into something unrecognizable. She was too violent, her morningstar swinging with a bloodlust that didn't belong to a mother from Banan. She felt like a passenger in her own body, watching herself commit acts of war while feeling "light" and "good," a truth she knew was a lie.
The worst part was Tia. The Great Spirit was too naive to understand the nuance of Rem's guilt; to Tia, if Rem was smiling, everything was fine.
One evening, during their scheduled dinner in the command tent, Rem set her glass down and looked at Commander Vahn.
"I want to stop taking the doses," Rem said, her voice trembling but firm.
Vahn, a man who viewed soldiers as assets to be maintained, sighed with a fatherly disappointment. "Rem, I give those to you so you don't have a mental breakdown. You are the most effective asset we have. I truly appreciate the work you and Tia have done for this campaign; Kararagi is in your debt".
He reached across the table, his hand moving to cover hers in a gesture that felt far too intimate for a superior officer. Rem pulled her hand back instantly, the "good feeling" of the drugs momentarily replaced by a cold spike of reality.
"I have a husband, Commander," she said sharply.
"Of course," Vahn replied smoothly, his eyes never leaving hers. He didn't seem offended by the rejection; instead, he doubled his efforts to impress her, his voice dropping into a seductive hum. "I only meant that you are a truly magnificent woman, Rem. I wish I could be with someone of your caliber. I love the time we spend together."
Rem felt the drug's influence trying to pull her back into a state of complacency, making his words sound more flattering than they were.
"Don't worry about the deal we made," Vahn continued, leaning back with a confident smile. "The Red Grade medicine for your husband... it's still being sent. Your service ensures his life. Why not let yourself enjoy the 'fun' of these dinners while you're here?".
Rem looked at him, feeling the tug-of-war between her true self and the artificial happiness of the war camp, realizing that her "improved mood" was just another cage built by the Commander to keep his most powerful weapon sharp.
The Commander leaned back in his chair, swirling the dark wine in his glass. Rem's rejection hadn't deterred him; to a man like him, a "no" was simply the opening bid in a negotiation.
"You are a remarkably stubborn woman, Rem," he mused, a flirtatious smirk playing on his lips. "But I have always appreciated a challenge. If not my hand, then what else can we negotiate? What would you ask of me for a single kiss? Or perhaps just a simple date, walking together in the camp for all to see?"
Rem stared at him, the lingering haze of the stimulant making it difficult to summon the fiery anger she should have felt. "I told you, Commander. I am a married woman."
"And I don't mind being the second man," he replied smoothly, his eyes dropping to her lips before meeting her gaze again. "War is a lonely place, Rem. Your husband is far away, resting safely because of the medicine we provide. There is no shame in finding comfort here."
When Rem remained stiff and silent in her chair, the Commander decided to play his strongest card. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his tone shifting from seductive to strictly business.
"Let's speak of the future, then. I know about your boy, Rigel. He is exactly the kind of strong young man the Kararagi council loves to conscript into the meat grinder." He watched the color drain from Rem's face. "Help me secure my promotion. Use your strength, and your Great Spirit's power, to win this campaign for me. In exchange, I will personally forge the documents to ensure your son is permanently exempt from the draft. He will never have to hold a sword for this army."
Rem's breath hitched. Protecting Rigel from becoming a killer and taking his place in the war was the entire reason she had left her home.
"The only condition," the Commander added softly, "is that you extend your contract. You stay here, on the front lines, with me, until my promotion is secured."
He stood up and walked slowly around the table, stopping just behind her chair. He leaned down, his voice a low, calculating whisper near her ear.
"I can give you everything you came here for, Rem. Safety for your husband. Absolute protection for your son. So tell me... what is it that you want?"
The mention of Rigel's name felt like a bucket of ice water poured over Rem's head, cutting through whatever lingering warmth the stimulant had left in her veins.
Her mind immediately flashed back to the day she left Banan—to the dark, pragmatic look in her sixteen-year-old son's eyes, and her desperate need to prevent him from becoming a monster.
She turned in her chair to face the Commander, her blue eyes sharp and guarded.
"I will never betray my husband, Commander," Rem said, her voice laced with the stubborn pride of the Oni. "There will be no dates in the camp, and you will not have a kiss. You could offer me all the gold in Kararagi, and I would still only be Subaru's wife."
She paused, her hands clenching into fists on her lap. The romantic rejection was easy, but the military offer was a snare she couldn't easily step out of.
"But..." Rem swallowed hard, the mother in her warring with the exhausted soldier she had become. "If I stay longer. If I help you secure this promotion using my and Tia's power... you swear on your rank that Rigel will never be drafted? That he will never be forced to see this war?"
Rem looked up at him, her defenses lowered just enough to show how desperate she was to protect her son. "I need proof that you can actually protect him from the council before I agree to extend any contract."
The Commander smiled, a cold, predatory glint in his eyes that didn't match his smooth, flirtatious voice. He pulled a blank piece of parchment from his desk and laid it between them.
"A war contract is a sacred thing in Kararagi, Rem. It works both ways," he said, his voice dropping to a low, persuasive hum. "If you give me your demands and your rules, and tell me what you are willing to give in return, the contract is sealed only when both parties agree. I am offering you the safety of your son. Is that not worth a negotiation?"
He leaned closer, the scent of expensive wine and iron clinging to him. "To prove my sincerity, I will add a Truth Clause. As long as this contract is active, I will be magically forbidden from lying to you. If I break my word, I die. It is a blood-bind. You will have the absolute truth from my lips tonight and every night after."
Rem narrowed her eyes, her heart hammering against her ribs. "And what is the price for this 'truth'?"
The Commander's smile widened. "A small, private sacrifice to prove your obedience to the contract. Starting tomorrow, you will stop wearing your underwear. No one in this camp will know but you and me. It is a hidden mark of who you truly serve here."
Rem felt a surge of heat—half from the drugs still in her system, half from pure, indignant shock. "That is... that is absurd. It's degrading."
"Is it?" the Commander countered, his voice smooth as silk. "It is a silent condition. You lose nothing of your physical virtue, and in exchange, you gain a General who cannot lie to you. You can ask me anything tonight—about the medicine, about the council's plans for Rigel, about my promotion—and I must tell you the truth. If you break your part of the clause, the bond is voided, and I can lie to you as much as I wish."
He leaned back, gesturing to the empty space on the parchment.
"Think of your son, Rem. Think of Subaru's shaking hands. If you accept this small, invisible clause, I am yours to command with the truth tonight. You hold my life in your hands. So, tell me... what are your rules? What do you demand in exchange for staying at the front? And are you brave enough to walk among these men tomorrow knowing you are mine?"
Rem looked at the General, her heart pounding. The stimulant in her system made the world feel fast and blurry, but the weight of his "Truth Clause" was very real. She knew that if she accepted this humiliating condition, she would finally have the one thing she lacked in this war: a guarantee she could trust.
She took a deep breath, her eyes trembling as she looked at the parchment. "If I... if I agree to this clause... I get to ask you anything? And you cannot lie to me?"
"By the law of the blood-bind," the General replied, his voice a smooth, dangerous caress. "My life would be forfeit if a falsehood crossed my lips."
Rem gripped the edge of the table. "Then tell me now. Can you actually protect Rigel? Or are you just using me?"
The General leaned in, the magical weight of the proposed contract already beginning to simmer in the air. "I can. But my power to protect him depends on my own standing. If I am promoted to the High Council's inner circle, I can redact his name from the draft scrolls forever. However, the High Council is currently obsessed with you and Tia. They want to know how I'm keeping such 'high-yield assets' on the front lines. If I can guarantee you stay longer, my promotion is a certainty."
"How much longer?" Rem whispered, her voice cracking.
"A year," he said flatly. "At least."
Rem felt a wave of despair. A year away from Subaru? A year in this mud and blood? "Why would you tell me that? Why admit that you need me that much?"
The General chuckled, a dark, honest sound. "Because under the Truth Clause, I must. And the truth is, you and Tia are carrying this entire campaign. Without you, my army stalls. And..." he reached out, his fingers ghosting near her cheek, "...the truth is also that I like you, Rem. I like your fire, your loyalty, and the way you look when you're trying to hide your fear. I want you here, by my side."
Rem flinched away from his touch, her mind reeling. The drugs were making her feel "good," but she hated that feeling. She needed to be the real Rem—the mother, the wife—not this drug-addled soldier.
"I... I will think about it," Rem said, standing up on shaky legs. She looked at the General with a newfound hardness in her eyes. "But I won't sign or agree to your 'clause' tonight. I need to stop taking those drugs. I need a clear mind for a few days to know if I'm making this choice for my son, or if the medicine is making it for me."
The General watched her, a confident smirk on his face. He didn't seem worried. "Very well, Rem. Take your time. Spend a few days without the 'haze.' You'll find that the reality of the war is much colder without it—and that my offer is the only warmth you have left."
Rem turned and hurried out of the tent, the cool night air hitting her face. She had to find Tia. She had to stay strong. But as she walked back to her quarters, she couldn't stop thinking about the silent, invisible sacrifice the General had demanded. Could she really walk through the camp tomorrow, facing the soldiers and the sun, knowing she had surrendered that small piece of herself to a man who wasn't her husband?
The heavy fog of the stimulants finally cleared, leaving Rem's mind sharp, cold, and utterly devastated. Without the artificial happiness to mask the reality of the front lines, the horror of her situation crashed down on her like a tidal wave.
For the last three days, she had watched from the vanguard as Tia—a whirlwind of violet mana and merciless steel—slaughtered hundreds. It wasn't just enemy soldiers anymore; the "crossfire" included anyone in their path. Rem saw the faces of the innocent civilians caught in the chaos, and every time she swung her morningstar, she felt a piece of her soul wither. Her depression returned, deeper and darker than before, fueled by the crushing weight of her own choices.
Adding to her self-loathing was the physical sensation of the General's "Truth Clause." For those same three days, she had followed his degrading demand, going without her underwear beneath her kimono. Every step she took through the mud, every breeze that caught her robes, was a constant, stinging reminder of the secret she shared with the General. She hated herself for it, but she felt trapped—she needed that clause to be active so he could never lie to her about Subaru's medicine or Rigel's safety.
On the third evening, the weight became too much to bear. Rem sat in her tent, her head in her hands, trembling with a sense of isolation that felt like drowning.
"Rem? You smell like the gray rain again," Tia murmured, appearing from the shadows. The Great Spirit looked untouched by the carnage of the day, her beauty as ethereal and terrifying as ever.
"I just... I need to feel something else, Tia," Rem whispered, her voice breaking. "Just for a moment."
Rem reached out, pulling the Spirit into a desperate hug. She sought comfort, a reminder that she wasn't alone in this nightmare. Tia, though she didn't fully understand human grief, wrapped her slender arms around Rem, pulling her down onto the furs of the bed. They lay together in the dim light, the silence of the camp heavy outside.
As they lay there, the boundaries of their contract and their friendship began to blur. Rem was starved for affection, for the warmth of another person who didn't want to use her as a weapon or a political stepping stone. She looked into Tia's violet eyes, and before she could stop herself, she leaned forward.
When their lips met, it wasn't the kiss of a wife for a husband; it was a desperate, messy collision of two beings lost in a world of blood. For Rem, it was a way to drown out the memory of the General's gaze and the faces of the dead. For Tia, it was a new, fascinating "game" to play with her contractor.
As the kiss deepened, Rem felt a flicker of the "lightness" she had missed from the drugs, but this time it was laced with a new kind of guilt. She was stepping further and further away from the woman Subaru had loved, becoming someone who lived in the shadows of the "Yellow" part of the war.