Chapter 67

The party was loud and noisy, yet fun—and fun, yet exhausting.  

That was why Rodella rarely attended banquets.  

But the party last night… wasn’t so bad.  

Unlike typical formal banquets, the knights didn’t put on airs.  

There were no sharp remarks or people trying to make others uncomfortable. Everyone was simply enjoying the mood, and just watching them seemed to lift the spirits.  

Even Aivert, who had initially been dumbfounded by the whole “celebrating not breaking anything” bit, ended up laughing.  

He laughed quietly and raised his glass—though he only sipped it lightly, the sight of him somehow…  

Maybe it was because the night sky was behind him, but he looked especially striking.  

Rodella, still drowsy and hazy from sleep, was just reminiscing about the previous night when she opened her eyes.  

“……?”  

She had to think for a moment to make sense of what she was seeing.  

Why was only the top part of the canopy left?  

The draped fabric that once hung down was neatly cut away.  

Diagonally, no less—very stylish.  

“Where did this go…?”  

Rodella half-sat up and asked. Aivert’s answer came smoothly.  

“It was hot, so I cut it.”  

…What? Rodella blinked in disbelief.  

“You could’ve just drawn it back—why would you cut it?”  

“It’s a hassle.”  

Aivert shrugged.  

“I mean…”  

Rodella was exasperated, but what was done was done.  

Her morning had started off ridiculous, and as she tried to rationalize it, she realized it wasn’t over yet.  

Because Aivert was eating something with way too much enthusiasm.  

“What are you eating?”  

He lifted his fork from the round table where he was seated.  

“Ah.”  

Rodella narrowed her eyes.  

A steak, cooked to about medium-rare.  

She wasn’t one to judge others’ preferences, but she personally disliked the smell of blood and preferred well-done meat.  

The problem was…  

“……Why are you eating here?”  

As she pointed out this rather crucial detail, Aivert popped another piece into his mouth, chewed leisurely, and said,  

“To wake you up.”  

Well, sure. The smell of blood would definitely wake someone up.  

“That,” Rodella pointed to the single remaining strip of canopy, “was more effective.”  

Aivert nodded.  

“I’ll keep that in mind.”  

Keep it in mind for what?! Rodella waved her hand in protest.  

“You really have the strangest hobbies…”  

She stretched with a sigh.  

Thinking back, during their academy days, she’d had plenty of absurd mornings like this when she was always around Aivert.  

—“Why are your clothes like that?”  

—“Couldn’t sleep. Went for a run.”  

One early morning, she’d woken up to find his clothes caked in dirt. And to avoid getting dust on her, he’d casually thrown a towel over her face.  

—“I’m the kind of person who has to do what I want.”  

That was his excuse, despite giving her another ridiculous morning.  

Somewhere along the way, his timid nature disappeared and gave way to a bold shamelessness, as if he were trying to make up for all the years he’d suppressed his real personality.  

Thanks to that, she’d experienced a lot of unique mornings.  

Compared to the time she woke up to find her bed destroyed, a cut-up canopy was nothing.  

Rodella chuckled.  

“Whoever ends up marrying you is going to have a rough time.”  

At that, Aivert paused mid-bite.  

“Should I stop eating?”  

“Huh?” Rodella flailed her hand, flustered.  

“No, I didn’t mean it like that.”  

“Then what?”  

He stood up as he asked.  

What’s he doing now? Rodella watched as he walked to the door and pulled in a tray.  

Then he asked again, “Is it because I was eating alone?”  

“I said it’s not about the food!”  

How is he this unique this early in the morning?  

While Rodella was speechless, Aivert pushed aside his own plate and began setting simple dishes on the table.  

“You made this?”  

“My personal servant did. I was with you.”  

He gestured to the now makeshift breakfast table.  

“I had it prepared with all the things you like. Still think my future wife’s gonna suffer?”  

What? You mean your future wife??  

Rodella, thinking how random his question was, waved it off again.  

“It’s not the food. It’s just… mornings with you are always unpredictable and noisy.”  

She muttered with a light laugh.  

Aivert pulled out her chair and asked, “Always?”  

“Yeah, even back at the academy.”  

Rodella replied as she sat, following his cue.  

Aivert poured her a glass of lukewarm water. At her words, he paused for just a moment.  

“You remember that?”  

“Of course.”  

Rodella smiled.  

“It’s chaotic, but fun.”  

She spread her napkin and added, “Still, while it was fun for me, I’m sure there are others who’d find it overwhelming.”  

So please keep that in mind when you’re finding your future wife, Lord Royden.  

She held up a finger as if warning him.  

Aivert moved again at her words.  

“As long as you like it, that’s all that matters to me.”  

“If you keep saying stuff like that, your wife’s gonna be jealous of me someday.”  

Rodella looked up at him.  

As he leaned forward, setting her breakfast, Aivert gave a slight shrug.  

“Then I’ll just have to make her happy enough that she won’t be.”  

He said this while locking eyes with her, unwavering.  

Golden hair glittered in the morning sunlight filtering through the thin curtains by the window.  

His lake-blue eyes seemed to hold a sincere emotion.  

“…How?”  

That was what Rodella asked, without realizing it.  

Not even knowing why she was asking.  

“Hmm…”  

Aivert straightened up and pulled out a handkerchief.  

“It’s hard to show it in the middle of breakfast. But want me to?”  

“…W-What?”  

Rodella recoiled in alarm.  

Why is he pulling out a handkerchief?! Why is he wiping his mouth?! He’s done eating, right? Right?!  

Rodella turned her head sharply and shook it.  

“I’m good, thanks!”  

“Too bad.”  

What was he about to do?!  

I can never tell what’s going on in this guy’s head!  

As she buried her blushing face into the table, Aivert tucked the handkerchief away—smiling silently to himself.  

‘I’d rather you see me as strange than be afraid of me.’  

***

Fortunately, Lady Royden recovered and was discharged from the hospital.  

She even sent Rodella a note.  

— The wine cellar’s been emptied.

Along with a message telling her not to stress.  

“Motherrrrrrr…”  

Rodella clutched her head.  

How was she supposed to explain she’d eventually be breaking things off?!  

***

Meanwhile, in the middle of this “peaceful” life, the Azure Knights had been increasing their calls for civilian support.  

With fewer monsters and more civic work, it was a welcome change.  

It meant the knights were gaining trust, there were fewer injuries, and people were safer overall.  

The only warning Latine gave was: “There’s some fake religion going around summoning a god or Valk-something. They were pulling the same crap during the war. If you see ‘em, let us know. We’ll wipe ‘em out.”  

He grumbled, “I thought they were gone, but I guess they found another dumb rich sponsor.”  

Aside from that cult nonsense, life was peaceful.  

Meanwhile, the Bran family, who’d crossed Ortin, was getting thoroughly investigated and exposed.  

“This time, it’s an illegal private militia.”  

“I heard they dug up debts from ten years ago, too.”  

Gareth Ortin, who had nearly been in trouble because of them, smiled again upon hearing the news.  

The building of the merchant group, now completely wrecked, was being rebuilt in a better location.  

Not for free, of course—but the Bran family was forced to pay substantial damages thanks to a lawsuit backed by the Azure Knights.  

Had it just been some commoner, they might’ve been thrown out.  

But when Gareth Ortin showed up with Commander Latine, Vice Commander Aivert Royden, and the infamous administrative officer Rodella in tow—  

Even the Bran family had to tread carefully.  

On their way back, after enduring the Bran family’s glaring eyes, Aivert turned to Rodella.  

“I want to assign you a personal servant from the Royden household. What do you think?”