Chapter 20

“Huh?”

Rodella instinctively reached into her pocket.

What? Where’d it go?

The small bottle she’d snuck into her pocket earlier during the commotion was now missing.

Of course—it was the exact same bottle now held in Aivert’s hand.

“…Wait, you knew I grabbed that?”

At her question, Aivert nodded without hesitation.

“I know everything you do.”

He said it with that confident smile, eyes locking on hers.

Rodella froze.

Then asked, very carefully—“…Are you drunk?”

“…”

You’re acting weirdly smooth today.

* * *

The two of them naturally made their way up to the fourth floor of headquarters, where their rooms were located.  

Aivert opened the door to his room and walked in, and Rodella followed without hesitation.  

Her room only held work supplies anyway—there weren’t even glasses to share a drink.  

—Click.  

Aivert set the bottle down on the small table and fetched a pair of glasses. Then, with a sideways glance, he asked quietly,  

“Why didn’t you drink earlier?”  

Judging by how she’d swiped a bottle, it clearly wasn’t because she didn’t want any.  

Rodella replied, “I just don’t like drinking in front of people.”

Aivert tilted his head.  

“What about me?”  

He gestured to himself.  

‘Am I not people?’  

The implication was clear, and Rodella burst into laughter.  

“You’re the exception. You know that. I get drunk easily.”  

‘But I don’t mind the feeling—it’s kind of nice.’ 

She swirled the glass gently and added, “I just don’t like letting people see me drunk.”  

‘Especially not in front of people who are always looking to tear me down.’

She mumbled this more to herself, and then downed her glass in one go.  

“Fuuuaaah.”  

The pleasant fragrance warmed her throat… and then hit her like a brick.  

Her mouth opened slightly as she blinked a few times.  

“Why is this so strong!?”  

“In this corps, weak liquor isn’t worth stocking. Anyone who wants that might as well drink water,” Aivert replied coolly.  

Rodella felt the world tilt slightly.  

You could’ve warned me before I downed it.  

Right in front of her, Aivert drained a glass without even blinking. Then, fixing his eyes on her, he suddenly said: “You realize you’re an accomplice now, right?”  

“…What?”  

‘Excuse me? I’m not, thank you very much.’ Rodella felt the oncoming buzz stall.  

Aivert held up the bottle and gave it a little shake.  

“You drank it. Untraceable funds, remember?”  

“…Ah.”  

‘You planned this. Wait, I brought this bottle. No—wait…‘ 

The buzz she’d been holding at bay surged to the top of her head.

* * *

Not even thirty minutes later—

“Calling me an accomplice is way too much,” Rodella whined as she tugged on his cheek.

“You’re drunk. That’s enough.”  

‘Does she even realize how dangerous her touch makes me?’

Aivert kept his pronunciation crisp and steady, fighting off the temptation, when—

—Tap!

Suddenly, Rodella grabbed his face with both hands and turned it toward her.

“……!”

Her eyes were clouded by the alcohol.  

But within them—only Aivert was reflected.  

Just the way he’d always wanted.

In the seconds their eyes locked, a thousand thoughts passed through his head—  

“I. Am completely sober now!”  

She meant it.  

Rodella, face bright red, burst into laughter—  

—Flop!

—and promptly collapsed.  

Right into Aivert’s arms.  

“…….”  

As always, he caught her with ease, like it was second nature.  

As he held her, he recalled her words from earlier.  

“I don’t like letting people see me drunk.”  

‘Except you,’ she’d said.  

That devastatingly tender admission.  

‘You admit I’m special to you—so why won’t you give me even a sliver of space in your heart? Why must I remain just a friend?’  

He’d finally made it to her side. He was waiting, watching for the moment.  

But how long was he supposed to keep holding back—  

—when even the sound of her soft, sleeping breaths in his arms felt this dangerous?

“…I’m going insane.”  

Truly.  

He was on the verge of losing it.

* * *

After cleaning up the drinking party, Aivert lifted Rodella in his arms and quietly opened the door to her room, right next to his.

“Mmngh…”

Even now, she still hadn’t woken.

‘If you opened your eyes now, what kind of face would you make?’

“When did I get all the way here last night?”  

Rodella always asked that with wide eyes when she got too drunk to remember anything.

“I carried you,” he would say.

Rodella would always laugh.  

“You? Carrying me?”

She had reason to think that was impossible—  

Aivert was someone who was incredibly cautious about touching her, fearful that he might misjudge his own strength.

Whenever Rodella would jokingly flirt or reach out, he was always too busy dodging.  

There was no way someone like that would voluntarily pick her up.

But—  

“I couldn’t let someone else carry you,” he murmured.

Tension held every muscle in his body taut.  

To him, Rodella was like the most delicate shard of glass—his dearest friend, no, something beyond that.  

He didn’t want her to get so much as a scratch.

—Thud.

He gently laid her down on the bed and adjusted her clothes.

“Phew…”

Still half-asleep, Rodella fidgeted with the collar of her blouse, then turned on her side.  

Her hand blindly searched the bed, then tugged a stuffed bear close to her.  

One leg tossed over it, she was clearly out for the night.

She’d sleep more comfortably if he unbuttoned her collar, but…

“…”

Aivert hesitated, then ran a hand over his face.  

‘This isn’t just for you—it’s for me too, Rodella.’

He exhaled quietly and turned away.

Even knowing she wouldn’t wake at the sound of a door closing, he couldn’t help but close it carefully.

His senses sharp as always, Aivert moved toward his own room.  

Just before closing the door, he knocked lightly—not to alert someone inside, but as a signal to someone nearby.

“Denet.”

“Yes.”

A figure stepped out of the shadows.  

Aivert wasn’t the least bit surprised.

“You look like you’ve got something to report.”

Denet.  

A personal attendant assigned to every Royden heir, trained through a special program.  

He had been with Aivert since the age of eight.

Since Aivert worked in a place full of sensitive and alert knights, Denet usually kept his distance unless summoned.  

That also had to do with Aivert’s early orders—born of his distaste for the family, he had told Denet to stop hovering.

“Suspicious individuals approached near the farm during the civil relief mission,” Denet reported.

Aivert gave a dry, sharp laugh.  

Of course.

“And then?”

“They were searching for the two of you when you headed into the mountains, but once they couldn’t locate you, they vanished. It appears they’re not especially well-informed.”

No leaks from inside, either.

Aivert nodded.  

If they had been well-informed, they’d have ambushed him and Rodella while they were separated from the others, hunting monsters.  

No doubt about it—they hadn’t known their exact location.

Smirking again, he gestured.

“Find out where they came from. If you’re too lazy to dig, see what Viscount Linbeck’s been up to lately.”

The Linbeck household was one of the local noble families near the farm.  

They’d recently been desperate to earn merit.

Nine times out of ten, the culprit would be there.  

Denet understood the veiled order perfectly.

“I’ll begin with House Linbeck. If they prove clean, I’ll broaden the search.”

Aivert gave a small nod, and Denet vanished without a sound.

Only then did true silence return to his room.