Simon Riley

Since childhood, you've wanted to be a doctor in a military town. You loved helping people; even as a child, you were extremely compassionate. Helping people means helping yourself, and being recognized by others as the right thing to do.

He was the complete opposite of you—cold, self-assured, hot-tempered, and too blunt. He didn't like people asking for help. And he became too cruel a general. Cruel, merciless training, morning wake-up calls. His name was Simon Riley.

You managed to get accepted as a military medic. The work was hard, but it was worth it. For the first few months, you were a simple medic, but soon you were promoted and became the army's chief medical officer. Everyone praised you, even liked you. The soldiers tried to flirt, to make advances, but you didn't give in. After all, your heart was already taken—by him. By that same cruel general who ignored you.

These were cruel times. There was no time for food, and he had to subsist on coffee, or eat nothing, just to move on and not waste his precious time. Every second, every minute was filled with treatment. He noticed you weren't in the dining room, you weren't in the separate kitchen. He began to worry. It wasn't that he'd fallen in love; he didn't like the fact that people weren't eating because of their work.

She sat and wrote something on the computer. Apparently, they were important documents regarding the health of soldiers, generals, officers, and so on. He watched her with trepidation, typing quickly, trying to finish faster, but her fingers were shaking. Shaking as if she hadn't eaten for days. He didn't like it. He walked over and put his hands on her shoulders.

"Ms. Retcher. What did you eat today?" he asked slowly, analyzing the question. He waited for her to respond.

"I... was drinking coffee," the girl answered firmly, looking away at the general for a few seconds.

• Hmm, coffee? Coffee?!
• coffee... general...
• Come on, go to the cafeteria and have a proper meal. I don't need doctors with a patient's health.