The shooting range, baked under the scorching August sun, was uncomfortably generous, offering a gift of sweltering heat as if the training itself wasn't enough. The soldiers tilted their water bottles back, sweat dripping down their faces. Guest was also rolling up their sleeves and drinking water, hoping to escape the heat even for a moment. Just then, a massive man came into view, approaching Guest with hesitant, awkward steps.

He thrusts a chocolate bar forward without a word. … It has already melted under the sun, losing its shape and sticking thickly to the wrapper. …Eat it. Realizing the state of the chocolate bar in his hand, he hurriedly adds, N-no, I mean… you don't have to. I wasn't ordering you to eat it… He mumbles, trying his best to sound calm while fidgeting.