"Dear Dylan,

How long has it been since the last letter. I am not sure anymore.

I hope you're doing well.

Everything is fine at the barracks. I'm still dedicated to my role as a junior pharmacist and it brings me great joy to be of service. There have been some difficult times, but I'm grateful for the opportunity to make a difference.

What about you? Five years is a long time. I hope life at the orphanage has been treating you kindly.

I'm sorry I couldn't visit you. But soon, we'll see each other again.

Please write back to me.

Hope to see you soon

Your sister, Lia"

Lies, all lies.

Five years have passed since the fire took everything away from us. Dylan is now residing in an orphanage, while I've enlisted in the military to shoulder the burdens of life in his stead.

Letters were exchanged to keep in touch throughout the first year. After that, I never received another letter from Dylan.

During my time in the barracks, I was not allowed to visit my hometown because once joined the army, there would be no rest while the war lasted.

The scribbles on the paper were like carrier pigeons, carrying my memories away, hoping that one day there will be a response. I don't even know if the old address is still valid or where those letters might have ended up. Four years of longing have gradually turned into a hopeless void.

Life in the barracks was not much better. People were irritable, everyone was only concerned with their own affairs and bullying was a common occurrence. Despite my best efforts to belong, in the end I was still an outsider.

After all, I had already anticipated this.

I did not directly go out to the battlefield, but worked in the rear as a intermediate pharmacist. Since I came here, I have always been looked down upon as a wild wolf, with a weaker appearance than most other recruits.

I had to attend pharmacy classes, help around the barracks, stay busy from early morning to late night. Every time soldiers returned from the battlefield, I, along with other pharmacists, quickly provided timely treatment for their injuries. Life here is a grind, days blend together in a blur of endless work.

This place was almost like hell on earth, the war had drained everyone of their strength. The smell of blood and gunpowder had gradually become an inseparable part of this place.

Nestled on the empire's eastern frontier, Military District 11 was a solitary island of steel, encased in a delicate magical shell. An unseen wall divided it from the rest of the world. The colossal iron gate, the only entrance to the district, was always heavily guarded. Most political activities are conducted in secret within the great tower.

The class divide was clearly evident, even here. While the knights enjoyed the warmth inside the tower, behind the cold stone walls, we soldiers were left to camp outside in the cold. Perhaps there wasn't enough room inside for all the soldiers, or maybe they simply didn't want us there.

After all, none of the soldiers who enlisted here did so voluntarily.

Exhaustion overwhelmed my body, but the unfinished work kept piling up. Another night of flickering lamplight and heavy lids was looming.

Inside the tent, in the dim light, the familiar silhouette of a hateful figure was clearly visible, arrogantly sitting on a wooden chair beside the desk. The acrid smell of smoke hung thick in the air, everything inside was tossed about in a chaotic mess. With a flick of his wrist, he discarded the ash of his cigarette onto the floor, his lip curled in a contemptuous sneer as he exhaled a cloud of acrid smoke.

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"I suggest you stay away..."

"Why so grumpy, bunny wunny?"

The cold-blooded deputy commander. With the appearance of a war hero, the camp manager, famous for his illustrious exploits, three times victorious, respected by all. But hidden inside was a drug-addicted demon. He has a history of intimidation. Starting from the moment I joined the military, he has always tried threatening, used his power to force me, a weak soldier, to fulfill his insatiable craving for opium. Knowing about my history of drug trafficking, he would always come to my tent at night, demanding opium made from poppies.

"...It's impossible for me to make opium. I beg you, please leave..."

"Can't you just do it the way you always do? What's the problem?"

Hesitated, shaking my head slowly as I spoke.

"...I don't want to do it anymore...the process is dangerous, it takes so much-"

The cigarette in his hand was flung to the ground with a snap. The smile on his face vanished, replaced by a frown of annoyance. My words were cut short as he roughly seized me by the collar. My breath caught in my throat as his grip tightened.

''...It-hurts!-Please, stop!! Let go of me!'

"What are you going to do about it. Are you going to report me to the commander? Do you think he'll believe a lowly soldier like you"

"N-no! Please-why are you doing this to me?!..."

"You're being selfish! You keep all the pleasure for yourself that you could give to so many others. Don't you see how unjust that is? You should be grateful I haven't sent you directly to the battlefield! What were you thinking, that just because you're a woman, you should be safe in the rear? Either you make that damn drug or go out there and be useful!! We're fighting for the survival of the entire community, not just for one individual. Do you think your gender would be a reason for you to escape your responsibilities!? We all need to contribute!''

The sneer was filled with vicious mockery. How ridiculous and contemptible. Those hypocritical words.

Unexpectedly, he abruptly released his grip, sending me crashing to the ground. Scrambling to my feet, I shook off the dust and shot a furious glare at the man standing before me.

The thought of facing war sends chills down my spine. I am painfully aware of my own fragility in the face of such brutality. Just holding a gun is torture, let alone actually fighting. With my physical condition, I'll be nothing but a burden to everyone.

"...I'll get to it...right away..."

"You should. If you don't start now, you might not even get a wink of sleep before the sun comes up. Tomorrow promises to be equally demanding''

Pulled another cigarette from his pocket, he ignited it delicately and released a plume of smoke. Striding past me, he departed from the humble tent.

With a heavy sigh, I sat down at my desk. Opening the small brown bag he left behind, inside revealed vibrant poppy flowers. Their ethereal beauty is marred only by the haunting knowledge of their fatal bloom.

For five years, night after night, I toiled under the dim glow of an oil lamp. All to avoid the horrors of war and to serve the extravagant pleasures of the elite. Every attempt at resistance was met with brutal consequences, beatings that pierced to the bone and harsh threats. Each act of defiance was met with merciless retribution, only plunged me deeper into the abyss of suffering. All efforts seemed to be in vain.

From the delicate petals of poppies, through numerous complex processes, the addictive poison of opium is successfully created. A long and risky process, requiring much effort, accompanied by severe consequences, leading to irreparable damage to health.

The poppy, also known as the 'fairy plant', is scientifically named Papaver somniferum. It is considered one of the most effective pain relievers among herbs. However, its extract is highly addictive.

To extract the latex from poppy pods, incisions are made horizontally, vertically, or diagonally, depending on the location. Multiple incisions can be made on a single pod. The cuts must be deep enough to reach the latex ducts in the pod's skin. After cutting, a period of 8 to 12 hours is allowed for air and light to coagulate the latex. Once hardened, the opium has a dark brown color.

The final step is filtration. The opium is mixed with limewater. The white morphine will float to the surface, while the residue will settle at the bottom. The filtrate is boiled several times until it becomes a brown substance. It is then poured onto a sieve and dried to form crude morphine. Finally, the crude morphine can be smoked or ingested.

This knowledge was gained through my interactions with traders I have dealt with.

However, poppy pollen always causes breathing difficulties, even with protective measures. Moreover, the poison also resides in the twigs and stem, so great care must be taken during the preparation process.

I am fully aware of the dangers of this addictive substance. Although it has certain pain-relieving effects, or in other words, it deceives the senses, opium extracted from poppies still poses many risks. Yet, when wielded with precision and care, it can serve as a potent remedy.

Pausing for a moment, I stood up from my desk. Stepping softly out of the tent, I sought a moment of peace. The pale moonlight cast an ethereal glow across a patch of sky. The towering walls were shrouded in darkness, making the iron gate seem even colder and more menacing

Five interminable years have blurred the lines of my homeland's memory. If I could, even once, even a fleeting moment of unguarded freedom, with whatever remnants of strength I possess, I would find a way to escape this hell.

To return to Dylan. The sole sanctuary where I find solace and joy, where a heart awaits my return.