Chapter 11

He didn’t resist and simply reached for the basket.  

“That’s it.”  

Rodella felt the tension in his hand every time he picked up an egg and recalled their childhood.  

They had practiced this exact exercise back then too.  

But unlike now, he had no control over his strength and even managed to crack the pillars of the building.  

“Try it on your own now.”  

Rodella gently pulled her hand away.  

And right after—  

Crack!  

The egg shattered again.  

Without flinching, Rodella slid her hand back under his.  

“Again.”  

To an outsider, it might have looked ridiculous.  

But Aivert hadn’t been thrown off by the training at all—likely because she had made him go through it when they were kids, for the same reason.  

Back when he couldn’t even hold a pen without snapping it, tore books just trying to flip a page, broke desks, and even cracked the dormitory floor—a walking natural disaster.  

“……”  

Their hands overlapped again, and after a few more rounds of Rodella guiding him, she finally pulled her hand away.  

But instead of reaching for another egg, Aivert stared straight at her.  

His face was more serious than usual—different from both their childhood and his typical self.  

“What is it?”  

Even after her question, Aivert stayed silent for a while, eyes fixed on her as he finally reached for an egg.  

Crunch!  

The tips of his fingers cracked the basket itself.  

“I forgot everything you taught me.”  

“What?”  

Rodella raised a brow, only for Aivert to ask softly,  

“Could you teach me again, like you did back then?”  

He smiled faintly as he spoke.  

Whack! 

Rodella smacked him on the back.  

“You’re pretending you forgot, aren’t you?!”  

Gotcha!  

She’d known him for over a decade—there was no way she wouldn’t see through that act.  

“I’m warning you, do it properly.”  

That made Aivert burst out laughing.  

His laughter rang clear and bright as he reached for an egg again.  

Not a single one broke after that.  

It was as if he were a completely different person.  

“…You didn’t forget, did you?”  

Rodella proposed the most plausible theory.  

No one could improve that suddenly unless they’d been faking it from the start.  

“You were just messing with me, weren’t you?”  

She asked again, and Aivert laughed once more.  

“No, I really did forget.”  

Then he added, “Until just now.”  

At that, Rodella clutched the back of her neck.  

He was messing with her!  

“So you only remembered because you pulled it off just now?”  

“Seems like it.”  

His answer was, as always, shameless.  

Well, in that case—  

“Then take another beating.”  

Rodella raised her hand, and Aivert dodged on reflex.  

“Get back here!”  

That little—ugh!

* * *

That night.  

“My legs are completely numb.”  

Rodella groaned as she patted her thighs.  

It must’ve been from crouching beside Aivert for too long.  

This was the downside of office work—your stamina and muscles just wither away.  

Rodella had never once slacked off in her physical training. She hated showing weakness or becoming a burden, no matter where she was.  

Of course, compared to active knights, her skills were laughable. But among the administration staff, she was by far the most energetic.  

And that wasn’t all.  

Even at the academy, she had consistently ranked high in the practical, physical skill classes.  

Naturally, she couldn’t claim the top spot—not with Aivert in the same year, dominating in all combat disciplines.  

Still, when it came to technique and finesse, she could confidently say she was among the top five.  

“…Still, this is a huge improvement compared to back then.”  

Rodella found herself thinking back to Aivert’s school days.  

Back then, he had been a walking catastrophe.  

Anything—or anyone—he touched ended in disaster. Broken bones and shattered objects were the bare minimum.  

The rumors had spread far and wide even before the semester began, so most students from the capital and nearby regions avoided Aivert like the plague.  

The previous Duke was dead, and with the young heir in such a volatile state, everyone assumed the fall of House Royden was inevitable.  

But Rodella was from the borderland territory of Syveric, far from the capital, and hadn’t heard a word of those rumors.  

“I made it just in time!”  

She had slipped into the classroom mere seconds before the bell and taken a seat—right next to him.  

She remembered clearly the startled face of the boy who had looked at her, wide-eyed.  

These days, Aivert seemed more uncomfortable without her beside him.  

But back then… surprisingly, he had been rather timid.  

“Who’s that?”  

“Isn’t she the girl who ranked first on the entrance exam? The one who gave the speech at the ceremony?”  

“And she’s sitting there?”  

“Guess she wants to cozy up to him. He is from a ducal house, after all.”  

Just like that, Rodella was labeled a low-ranking noble girl trying to latch onto House Royden, willing to risk injury or death to gain favor.  

Back then, she didn’t even know that the timid blond boy sitting next to her was Aivert Royden—the next Duke of Royden, or that rumors claimed he’d be crushed to death by a building he destroyed before ever inheriting the title.  

That day was the first time they met.  

Even after witnessing him snap desks in half or tear books apart with his bare hands, Rodella never once distanced herself from him.  

It was pure defiance.  

“Guess she’s got a death wish.”  

“Well, borderland nobility do need to latch onto a big name if they want to get noticed.”  

Rodella refused to sink to the same level as those who whispered such things loud enough for them to hear.  

She wouldn’t let them label her just another girl desperate to curry favor with a powerful family.

“Hey… you’re not doing this on purpose, right?”  

Young Rodella had asked, just to be sure.  

Aivert, with his head hanging low, quietly answered, “…I’m sorry.”  

Would someone who apologized like that really have smashed things on purpose?  

They said gifted mages sometimes blew off their rooftops as kids—maybe this was just a case of overwhelming talent too.  

So Rodella made him an offer.  

“Wanna practice controlling your strength with me?”  

…Of course, it may have also been because, after being seated next to Aivert on the first day, she’d suddenly found herself friendless—and he was the only option left.  

Just a little. Really, just a little.  

“You’ll get hurt.”  

But Aivert refused, genuinely worried for her.  

And for some reason, that irritated her.  

“Don’t make that face like you’ve already given up. If people are going to talk behind your back, you need to give them nothing to talk about. Letting it get to you isn’t a good way to deal with it.”  

To this day, Rodella still flushed with secondhand embarrassment whenever she remembered how proud she was of herself for sounding so mature—at just nine years old.  

Still, her words must have left a mark on Aivert.  

“…You really think you can help me?”  

“Better than doing nothing, right?”  

Maybe that’s why he agreed to follow her lead, despite how reckless it sounded.  

And so their training began.  

Turning the pages of a blank notebook, one by one.  

Sleeping while holding a cute teddy bear.  

At first, even the desk the notebook sat on would break in half, and every morning the teddy bear’s head would be separated from its body…  

But slowly, Aivert began to change.  

Eventually, thanks to their efforts, he could flip pages without destroying them.  

By that time —  

“What?”  

That was when Rodella finally found out who Aivert really was.