Write it more neatly, huh?
Aiko rolled her eyes as she set the pen down, flexing her aching fingers. In the 21st century, after high school everything had been typing—keyboards, laptops, phones. Actual handwriting felt archaic, almost ridiculous. She had never needed to produce page after page of neat script since childhood. Now here she was, translating military documents by hand like some 1940s secretary. The irony was not lost on her.
She had just finished the latest stack when Sebastian returned from his duties. He found her in the hallway, stretching her cramped hand with a faint grimace.
“I’m getting too bored staying inside these walls all day,” she said, her tone sober and direct. “Just a short walk through the city? I promise I won’t speak out of turn or draw attention.”
Sebastian studied her for a moment, weighing the risk. Then he gave a single nod.
“Change into the new things Frau Huber brought. We go as civilians. Low profile.”
Aiko retreated to her room. The new clothes Sebastian had quietly ordered were waiting—simple but fashionable dirndls for wartime Bavaria. She chose a green Dirndl-style dress in deep navy wool: a fitted bodice with subtle embroidery, a high collar, and a full skirt that fell calf-length, paired with a warm cream blouse underneath and a soft knitted cardigan for the chill. It looked traditional enough to blend with local women yet still elegant. She pinned her hair neatly and felt strangely… appropriate.
When she came downstairs, Sebastian had also changed. He wore a plain dark civilian suit—well-tailored but unremarkable— with a charcoal overcoat and a soft felt hat pulled low. Without the sharp military uniform, he looked less like an officer and more like any respectable young Bavarian gentleman taking an evening stroll. The absence of silver insignia made him seem quieter, almost human.
They slipped out through the side gate as dusk settled over Munich. The streets of Schwabing were already dimming under blackout rules. Sebastian kept a careful distance at first, guiding her with low words rather than touch. Aiko walked beside him, taking in the city with clear, observant eyes.
Timber-framed houses with steep roofs, the distant silhouette of the Frauenkirche, cobblestone streets still damp from rain. People moved with purpose—mothers guiding children home, shopkeepers locking up, workers carrying ration bags. No glowing screens, no distracted crowds staring at devices, no constant noise of notifications. Real human connection mattered. She saw it in the way neighbors nodded to one another, greetings and tradings in the market, with the quiet discipline of the evening routine.
In contrast, her own time felt more distant every time she remembered it—people isolated by digital devices, relationships reduced to pixels, purpose drained away. She wanted something better. Something more real.
Sebastian watched her more than the streets. He noticed how her gaze lingered on ordinary scenes with quiet recognition rather than wide-eyed wonder. Somehow, he could feel that her gaze carried almost a sense of envy. Why? What was she envious about? He realized that he actually didn't know much about her at all.
“You look… different without the uniform,” she said after a while, her voice steady.
He glanced down at his civilian clothes. “Necessary tonight. Safer this way.”
They continued in comfortable silence until they reached a small park near the English Garden. Bare trees stood sentinel; a bench waited beneath them.
Sebastian stopped. “We should not stay long.”
Aiko nodded.
He offered his arm— a simple, gentlemanly gesture for the uneven path. When she lightly rested her hand in the crook of his elbow, a quiet warmth stirred in him, but he kept his face impassive.
They returned home before full blackout. Frau Huber had left supper waiting. Sebastian wordlessly served Aiko the slightly larger portion, adding a small piece of preserved herring as before. Aiko chuckled, and muttered, "Danke."
Later, as she resumed light translation work by lamplight, their fingers brushed when he handed her a fresh sheet of paper. This time he did not pull away immediately, but instead he held her little hand. His fingertips lingered against the back of her hand—warm, steady, a heartbeat longer than necessary.
Aiko looked up. Their eyes met in the soft glow.
Sebastian’s voice was low when he finally spoke.
“Why you? Far East little katze.”
She had no answer—but she blushed, and her heart skipped a beat when she heard him saying "little katze".
He withdrew his hand slowly, almost reluctantly, and left the room without another word.
But the ember continued to glow. 72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4yU0NfGEWc
and then Add to home screen.