We are like butterflies who flutter for a day and think it is forever.

  — Carl Sagan

  The war began with a single gunshot aimed at the crown prince.

  An incident that could have ended with an apology and negotiation became the last drop in a brimming cup, causing the continent to overflow.

  Nations exchanged declarations of war as if they had been waiting for it. Anyone who wasn't an ally was an enemy.

  At first, everyone was excited. The sound of military band trumpets filled the streets, and newspapers were plastered with flashy illustrations promising victory. To the industrialized nations, war was always remembered as an easy hunt, trampling weak nations with overwhelming firepower.

  But this time was different.

  Nations with similar technology, similar weapons, and similar madness clashed.

  Steam engines endlessly transported soldiers to the front lines, and factory conveyor belts mass-produced death.

  The invention of the machine gun, said to allow one shooter to stop a hundred men, did not end the war quickly but instead prolonged hell. Instead of reducing casualties, both sides' command gave machine guns to all one hundred men. And so, all one hundred men died.

  Machine guns birthed trenches, and trenches stretched across the waist of the continent to the ends of the sea.

  The front line on the map stopped moving, but to erase that line and redraw it, millions disappeared into the mud.

  A war that no one could win had begun.

  The night was dark.

  Heavy clouds covered the sky, hiding even the stars. A pitch-black night where one could barely see a hand stretched out in front.

  No one lit a fire. Only the clanking sounds of guns and gear colliding with each movement filled the trenches.

  Colonel Karen Von Derian leaned against the trench revetment, standing night watch.

  In a battlefield without light, the only way to prepare for an enemy raid was to listen. Karen patrolled, checking that the Listening Sentries weren't dozing off.

  He had survived three years going back and forth between the trenches and the rear, but death was always near when battle broke out. He simply wanted to get through tonight safely.

  Just then, a messenger ran up.

  "Colonel, the platoon next to us picked up an abnormal sound."

  Karen woke the dozing riflemen and ordered the Listening Sentries to increase the sensitivity of their mechanical listening devices. Increasing sensitivity meant all sorts of miscellaneous noises would come through unfiltered, so catching the necessary sound required extreme concentration.

  A moment after giving the order, a soldier next to Karen tapped his shoulder.

  Karen immediately tapped the back of the Listening Sentry in front to signal. Shortly after, the Listening Sentry tapped his helmet in response.

  Enemy.

  Karen contacted the rear via wire. Then he tapped the shoulders of the soldiers to his left and right five times. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

  Tension instantly heated up the trench. Karen took a deep breath.

  A sound of something flying came from behind. Resisting the instinct to turn his head, he stared straight ahead.

  A flare was slowly burning and falling from the sky.

  Perhaps the weather data was off, as it fell just precariously beyond the trench line. Sticking one's head out at a time like this was a sure way to get sniped instantly, so Karen kept his eyes level with the trench wall as much as possible.

  Wriggling shadows were visible in the distance. The distance couldn't be gauged, but it was clearly not just one or two people.

  He steadied his breathing and called out corrected coordinates so the second flare would fall a bit further away.

  A moment later, another flare burst.

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  This time he could see clearly. Enemy soldiers were lying flat under the flare's light.

  He put a whistle in his mouth and blew three short blasts.

  At that signal, they opened fire all at once. The enemy immediately poured out return fire.

  Once the firing started, Karen moved through the trench, preventing soldiers from getting excited and turning their guns just anywhere. He encouraged them to fire rhythmically into their designated sectors from their positions.

  The enemy seemed determined to force a breakthrough; shouts and gunfire seemed to be getting closer.

  Karen requested artillery fire via wire again and sent a messenger to company headquarters to request suppression fire to delay the enemy attack. The enemy must have also requested fire support, as their shells came flying first.

  One brave enemy soldier approached within 30 Ele of the trench and threw a signal flare. Taking that as a reference point, shells fell here and there.

  Karen cursed inwardly.

  "Incoming!"

  Karen shouted, taking a bite block out of his pocket and biting down as he pressed himself against the opposite wall of the trench.

  Once the dust from the shells settled, friendly shells began to fly.

  Checking the impact points of the friendly shelling and confirming the safety distance, he pulled himself up over the trench with the bite block still in his mouth and rolled to the side.

  30 Ele was further than he thought. After rolling a couple of times, he ran with long strides, then threw himself headfirst into a prone position, taking off his helmet to cover the signal flare.

  It took less than 0.5 Cell. Karen banged his knee as he fell but rolled to the right without a moment to feel the pain.

  There must have been snipers watching the area around the signal flare, as two stone fragments bounced off the spot where he had just been.

  Waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark, he confirmed there were no other flares around the trench. Running back like he had come out would be a sure way to die from friendly fire, so he returned to the trench crawling as low as possible.

  He was drenched in sweat from his pounding heart and tension, and a faint heat haze rose from his dirt-covered uniform.

  Karen leaned against the trench wall for a moment to catch his breath.

  Whether the friendly suppression fire had been effective, or Karen's reckless removal of the signal flare had worked, the battlefield went quiet for a moment.

  This time, an enemy flare went up. Shouts poured from the other side as if they were now going to charge in earnest.

  Karen blew his whistle again, two short blasts, twice. The soldiers began suppression fire.

  Dumping ammunition in an instant, the flashes from the muzzles made the inside of the trench as bright as day.

  A while later, having exhausted their ammunition, the platoon members entered a lull and watched the enemy's movements again. It was very quiet.

  Either they had all died from the concentrated fire while charging, or the battle cry had been a deception. It was pitch black, so nothing could be confirmed.

  But it was certain that the battle was over once again.

  Karen sank down as the tension released. A messenger handed him a helmet he had found somewhere. He put it on without a word. It was a hasty retreat for a night raid, but he had no time to think deeply about it.

  He kept taking deep breaths to calm his wildly beating heart. He looked at his watch again. It was now crossing into the next day.

  Even after that, the night was long.

  The next day, artillery fire rang out from the morning.

  Karen turned his resting body and went prone again, feeling the sticky geothermal heat rising from the trench floor. He hadn't slept properly due to yesterday's battle.

  Boom!

  The ground shook. Dirt poured down. The inside of his helmet rang dully.

  He didn't move.

  He waited for the sounds after the explosion. Screams, footsteps, charge bugles.

  There was nothing.

  He slowly raised his head. 400 Ele ahead, the enemy lines were quiet.

  Usually, a charge followed suppression shelling; that was the standard tactic.

  Karen checked the company deployment. He instructed the messenger.

  "All platoons, take cover immediately. Prepare to load."

  The messenger ran around quickly, delivering the order. Ammunition resupplied overnight was redistributed, and tension flowed through the trench in an instant.

  Karen raised his index finger. Leaning against the trench wall, he raised a periscope. Two predecessors hadn't followed this rule; one lost an ear, the other his head.

  He scanned the enemy lines. No movement.

  Boom!

  "Incoming!"

  Karen shouted. He quickly pressed his body against the opposite trench wall. The sedimentary layers transmitted the shockwave of the shells without filtering. Another predecessor hadn't followed this rule and suffered ruptured internal organs.

  He took the bite block out of his pocket and bit down. He prepared for heavy shelling.

  But only silence spread.

  With time intervals, as if practicing, 3 more shells, then 4 fell, and then it became quiet again. The enemy 400 Ele away maintained silence.

  Karen recalled the pattern of the last few days.

  There was only suppression shelling and no charge. There was something else strange. The shelling was getting closer and closer to the trench, and more accurate.

  This was flat land. A place where impact points couldn't be confirmed from high ground.

  Was last night's raid a deception? The thought crossed his mind. The attack and shouts had hidden something.

  One possibility grazed Karen's mind. There was nothing in the sky. Then there was only one place left.

  Karen called the Listening Team that monitored for raids at night. The sleeping Listening Team was called out. Their faces were full of complaint, but seeing Karen's expression, they shut their mouths.

  "Deploy at 5 Ele intervals along the trench. Put your listening devices to the ground and wait. I'm going to request counter-fire from headquarters starting now. Report immediately if you hear resonance from the ground tremors."

  "Resonance, sir?"

  "Yes. The sound of an empty space ringing."

  Karen requested counter-fire via wire. The coordinates were not the enemy trench, but the middle point of 'No Man's Land' between allies and enemies.

  Shortly after, friendly shelling began. One by one, falling with intervals after the ground tremors had sufficiently spread. The vibration sound of the shells spread through the thick sedimentary layers, leaving a long, long low-frequency reverberation.

  One member of the Listening Team raised his hand.

  "It's resonance!"

  And a few seconds later, a few more people raised their hands. Karen gauged their time difference. Since they would pour concentrated fire anyway, an estimated location in his head was enough.

  Karen nodded and requested a correction of impact points via wire.

  Shells poured onto a spot 100 Ele in front of the Listening Team. It was a distance that barely escaped the lethal range of friendly shells.

  Complaints from soldiers were rampant due to the dirt clods flying toward the trench. The platoon leader next door sent a messenger to protest, asking if it was friendly fire on their own position.

  But soon, a crumbling sound was heard.

  The observer carefully raised a mechanical rangefinder.

  "Ground collapse confirmed! Width 10 Ele, distance between 150 and 200 Ele."

  Karen spoke calmly.

  "Looks like we have something to report today."

  He returned all troops to their original positions.

  From the next day, precise shelling sounds were not heard.

  A few days later, Karen moved to the rear trench.

  The original plan was to rotate with rear personnel every week, but the plan remained only a plan. Since the number of deaths was greater than the number of new arrivals, the rotation personnel always decreased. This was also a rotation after 4 weeks.

  Karen lay on a bed for the first time in a while and took a photo out of his pocket. Lying on a comfortable bed after being on the dirt floor naturally made him think of his family.

  A family photo. Taken just before he volunteered for the military.

  A few days after the war broke out, his parents went to an internment camp. Because his mother was from the enemy country, Trusen. Under the pretext of wartime classification, she was sent to the camp with his father. He didn't know if he should call it fortunate, but since he was in the military, he received a separate classification review and was able to remain in the military with the guarantee of his instructors. War always needed people.

  Three years had passed since then.

  His parents, seen during occasional short visitation periods, seemed to be doing reasonably well. But a camp was a camp.

  The door opened.

  His commissioning classmate spoke as he found and put on his helmet for guard duty.

  "Karen, did you hear the rumor? A massive spy case broke out in the rear. They say a purge is underway using that as a pretext?"

  Karen's hand stopped.

  "Would it be a problem for low-ranking guys like us?"

  Karen answered nonchalantly, but a corner of his heart went cold.

  His classmate went outside.

  Karen put the photo in his pocket. An old proverb came to mind.

  'War and misfortune are blind.'

  Once again, his origin came to mind.