Chapter 10

As Rodella stepped aside, the towering piles of egg baskets stacked behind her came into view.  

There was something about her smiling face… a shadowy aura that sent a chill down the knights’ spines.  

Uneasy murmurs spread as faces gradually paled.

Watching them, Rodella thought to herself:  

Unlike the Red Order, which only accepted those whose backgrounds and basic skills had already been thoroughly vetted, the Azure Order recruited based mostly on “potential”—as personally judged by Commander Latine.  

That “potential” often came in the form of innate strength, stamina, or raw personality.  

Those who became knights this way naturally ended up dealing with rough, violent criminals—and so, they only ever learned to hit hard.  

Refined control? Delicate restraint? Not their forte.  

Of course, they’d improved somewhat through training over time, but there was a clear limit to how much finesse they could develop.  

Even that took a lot of resources.  

But what if they started training with something simple, something normal—like eggs?  

Wouldn’t this be a much cheaper way to learn control than smashing walls or breaking someone else’s sword hilt?

A confident smile curved her lips.  

She would absolutely turn these wild bulls into human beings—  

And in doing so, she’d improve the performance of the Azure Order, producing results no one in the General Affairs Department could ever overlook or steal.  

Her fist clenched with resolve.

* * *

Ryan Diepelt. 

As the eldest son of the Marquis Diepelt, he was the favored candidate for the next Grand Chancellor, backed by the traditionalist noble faction led by the Duke of Benerix.  

The General Affairs Department, managed directly by the current Chancellor and effectively overseeing every branch of the imperial capital—  

In that very department, Ryan Diepelt had recently been producing the most outstanding results.  

With nothing standing in his way, it seemed only natural that he would ascend to the position of Chancellor in due time.  

That is, until—  

“Hello, I’m Rodella Syveric!”  

The Chancellor suddenly brought in a top Academy graduate, claiming she was a “brilliant new talent,” and everything changed.  

Everyone in the department already knew each other by name or face, working without tension under the unspoken order of noble hierarchy.  

But now, the air turned heavy with the scent of war.  

Despite constant obstruction and having her achievements shamelessly stolen, Rodella Syveric held her ground at the General Affairs Department and refused to leave.  

What’s worse, even in the face of all that, the top Academy graduate—personally scouted by the Chancellor—was racking up accomplishments.  

Of course, word of that had reached the Emperor himself.  

‘This can’t go on…’

‘My path to the Chancellorship…!’ 

Just as Ryan was beginning to spiral in unease—he heard that Rodella was being transferred to that pit. 

“At last!”  

’Finally, she’s out of the way!’  

He celebrated her departure with undisguised delight.  

Especially since she’d been sent off as the administrative officer for the Azure Order—a place so lowly that her career might as well be over.  

‘Now, there’s no one left to block my rise!’

But not long after he’d thought that—  

“Lord Diepelt. I need a word.”  

A senior in the General Affairs Department—also from the noble faction—came to him with news like a bolt from the blue.  

“You’ve been assigned to the Red Order as an administrative officer. Starting tomorrow.”  

“…What?”  

Ryan’s mouth hung open in shock.  

Yes, the Red Order was clearly more prestigious than Azure—but it was still frontline work, out where the dust blew thick.  

An administrative officer was typically a role given to nobles of lower rank, someone of no political significance.  

‘And yet me—me, who’s destined to be Chancellor—is being sent there?!’  

“Why… why am I going there?”

“Sir Alec had an accident yesterday. He’s no longer able to work.”  

Alec had been the administrative officer of the Red Order.  

“…What?”  

An accident? In the Red Order, not Azure?  

“And what does that have to do with me?”  

There were plenty of underlings better suited for this.  

Ryan stared at his superior, clearly baffled.  

The man looked troubled.  

“The situation has changed. Whether Rodella Syveric will actually produce results in the Azure Order is still uncertain—but if she even slightly succeeds over there, it’ll threaten our standing on this side.” 

“How is she supposed to produce results in that mess of a place?”  

“Are you questioning orders right now?”  

The superior snapped. Ryan’s brows twitched in frustration.  

‘Once I become Chancellor, you’ll be the first to go,’ he seethed inwardly.  

As he bit down his anger, the man continued, voice softening with intent.  

“We’re just trying to build a comparable record. Don’t worry—we’ll have the entire General Affairs Department backing you. You know this is all for your benefit, don’t you?”  

Perhaps sensing Ryan’s hesitation, or perhaps just playing his part, the man leaned in and whispered, “You’ve got the Duke of Benerix behind you.”  

The words, exchanged in secrecy, were barely audible between the two.  

And yet—saying that now, of all times…  

Ryan swallowed hard.  

It was a warning: refuse, and they might start grooming someone else for the Chancellorship.  

In the end, Ryan nodded.  

“…Understood.”  

‘To think someone of my age, with my title, is being sent to play errand boy for the Red Order…’  

He grumbled internally as he began packing his things.  

Not far from his office, the faintest trace of a dark shadow—one that had been deeply hidden in secrecy—began to pale, as if retreating from the scene.  

A short while later, the owner of that shadow moved unseen through the corridors, fading into the darkness…  

…until they reached the Vice Commander’s office of the Azure Order, delivering the news of Ryan’s transfer—along with a discreet note:  

The plan proceeds as expected.

* * *

Meanwhile, at the Azure Knights’ training ground—  

It had been a while since the egg-handling training began, and by now, the sky was glowing with the colors of sunset.  

Most of the knights had finally found their “enlightenment” (of sorts), succeeded in their mission, and gone on their way.  

All except for one.  

—Crack!

—…Crack!  

Ah. That last one was a shame.  

Rodella stood before the lone knight still struggling.  

It was none other than Aivert.  

Unlike the other knights, who at least managed to leave behind sizable bits of eggshell, the shells in Aivert’s hands were crushed to dust, unable to withstand his grip.  

He didn’t seem to be applying much force—but that was just the kind of strength one would expect from someone nicknamed “the walking disaster.”  

Still, he had made some progress: a basket next to him held about ten intact eggs.  

But between that basket and the rest of the field, there were the remnants of what looked to be hundreds of eggs—shattered, smeared, obliterated.  

While the others shouted “I did it!” and dashed off into their hard-earned freedom,  

Aivert had been here the whole time, annihilating that many eggs.  

Quite literally pulverizing them.  

He used to be good at this when he was younger—  

Had he just forgotten how?  

Or was it stress?  

Even as a child, when under a lot of pressure, he seemed to have trouble controlling his strength.  

But still, it was never this bad. He hadn’t been able to break an egg just by brushing against it before.

—Shhh-crack!

Right then, another egg exploded in his fingers the moment he touched it, as if it had been waiting to self-destruct.  

Watching this, Rodella walked over and stood beside him.

“Rough time lately?”  

Resting her chin on the top of his head as he sat, she asked casually.  

Since he had always been taller than her, it was a habit she’d developed as a child—whenever Aivert was sitting down, this was her default position.  

“Hard to believe you haven’t accidentally demolished the Knights’ HQ like this.”  

Aivert froze for a moment.  

Then, wordlessly, he reached for another egg.  

The way he stared at it was as if he were facing the greatest adversary of his life—utterly serious.

It was unfamiliar to Rodella.  

He was usually easygoing in front of her—always smiling, joking, a bit of an oddball.  

Maybe she should help him out a little.  

“Here. Watch me.”

Rodella finally reached out.  

She grabbed his egg-smeared hand and gently guided it atop her own.

“……!”

She could feel it—the way his whole body tensed up, practically freezing from his fingertips to his shoulders.  

He had always been like this, as far back as she could remember.  

Every time they so much as brushed against each other, he would stiffen.  

He was always terrified of hurting her.

“Trust yourself. I trust you.”

See? You’re touching me, and my hand didn’t shatter.  

That was what she used to tell him every time.

He had never once hurt her—so why did he always seem so afraid?

With his hand resting over hers, Rodella reached toward the basket.  

Aivert still said nothing.

“Now, think of my hand as a tool. Use it to grab the egg.”

His lips pressed into a tight line.  

Then, at last, his hand moved—tentatively, almost trembling—as he took hold of hers.

The egg touched Rodella’s fingers.  

Naturally, nothing broke. Her hand remained whole, and so did the egg.

Even as they gently lifted it together, Aivert’s expression stayed stone-cold.  

She could feel the slight twitch and tremble in his palm, pressed against the back of her hand.

And then—

Thud. 

A whole, unbroken egg was placed in the basket.

Rodella smiled.

“Good. Just keep using that pressure.”

As he tried to withdraw his hand from hers after the first egg, Rodella grabbed hold of it again.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

She gave the back of his hand a few light taps.

“Alright, come on—twenty more. No, thirty. I’m helping, after all.”

A short sigh slipped through Aivert’s lips.