* * *
Zavad glanced at Ranshel’s contemplative face and asked dryly:
“You want me to get close to that lady?”
“There’s no harm in it, right?”
“Yeah, guess not. I’d be seeing her more often anyway.”
“…I didn’t say it for my own benefit, you know?”
“Then it’s for mine?”
“Roughly, yeah?”
Ranshel answered with a hint of reluctance.
It wasn’t like this would hurt Zavad.
It was a chance to get close to the girl he liked, so why did he look so dissatisfied?
Zavad looked like he had more to say, but the conversation was cut short when a maid arrived carrying a spare wheelchair.
“This is a piece crafted with great care by the iron artisan. If you need adjustments for your build, please let us know. We can modify the width immediately.”
She opened a box of tools as she spoke.
She was likely the one in charge of adjusting Frey’s wheelchair.
To check the fit, Ranshel would have to sit, but he couldn’t use his legs.
He hesitated, palms pressed to the table, when Zavad stepped forward.
He slid one arm under Ranshel’s waist, the other behind his knees, and lifted him effortlessly.
“Wrap your arms around my shoulder.”
The gentle tone made it instantly clear—he was putting on a show for Frey’s maid, acting like a master who took meticulous care of his servant.
‘Ugh, disgusting…!’
Ranshel really wanted to push back, but knew staying quiet and cooperative was the fastest route.
He barely managed to hold himself back.
As Zavad settled him into the wheelchair and examined the fit, Ranshel looked on with thinly veiled contempt.
When Zavad tried to rest his feet on the footrest, the height didn’t match.
To his surprise, Frey was slightly taller than him.
Even accounting for the fact that Ranshel was still growing, she was fairly tall.
Frey was probably about the same age as Ranshel now.
Her backstory said she’d enrolled late due to a curse from a demon of the snowy mountains.
‘Then she’d be about three years older than Zavad.’
As Zavad asked the maid to adjust the footrest, Ranshel mentally measured Zavad’s height.
He knew he’d grow taller eventually, but for now, he was clearly shorter.
‘Being shorter than Frey…’
It stung his pride.
His pride, as Zavad’s personal servant.
“I hope this is of use to you.”
“Thank you.”
Ranshel gave the departing maid a bright smile, then turned to give Zavad a once-over with a grim expression.
No matter how you looked at it, this had to be due to malnutrition.
Ranshel resolved to make sure Zavad ate well, even here in the capital.
Meanwhile, Zavad frowned at the impure gaze sweeping over him.
“What was that blatantly rude look just now?”
“I was just wondering what we’re doing about dinner tonight.”
“…You’re really no different from a little piglet.”
“What? Honestly, everyone except you is probably thinking the same thing.”
Because of the earlier commotion, no one had eaten, and now that things had settled, everyone was eyeing the untouched banquet with barely disguised hunger.
Zavad muttered under his breath as he watched them whispering about how hungry they were.
“Greedy pigs, doing nothing but stuffing their faces…”
“Don’t say something so mean. Just come eat already.”
Clicking his tongue, Zavad walked over to the viscount to get things organized.
Ranshel noticed the handkerchief in his hand but quickly turned his head away, as if avoiding the sight.
Ranshel’s gaze drifted toward the door.
Faint tracks on the carpet marked the path Frey and the maid had taken just moments ago.
‘It can’t be easy to get around in a wheelchair.’
They’d come all the way here and left without even touching the food.
Was it just too uncomfortable to eat with everyone else?
They didn’t seem like someone particularly shy….
Lost in thought, Ranshel lifted his head instinctively as he felt someone watching him.
Hans, who had been standing beside Doter, approached awkwardly with a hesitant smile.
“Ranshel, I’m really sorry…”
“…Sorry?”
“I don’t know if apologizing will make you feel any better, but I wanted to say it. You bled a lot because of me.”
“Ah, well… yeah…”
Ranshel chuckled awkwardly.
He had bled—though it was rabbit blood, not his.
“You had your reasons, so it couldn’t be helped. I’m fine.”
Hans looked deeply moved, his eyes glistening slightly.
Then, in a cautious voice, he made a suggestion.
“That noble lady earlier—she had someone pushing the chair the whole time. What if I do that for you?”
“Uh… I’ll probably need the chair for about a week. Are you sure you’re okay with that?”
“A week? I’d do it for a month—or half a year, even! Just leave it to me.”
Hans clearly still felt bad about Ranshel having ingested the poison because of him.
Ranshel couldn’t find a good reason to refuse and nodded.
“Then I’ll leave it to you.”
“Yeah, you can count on me. I’m strong, you know.”
Hans proudly flexed his sturdy arms.
Now that Ranshel was really looking, it made sense why Pomel Castle had planted him as a spy.
The chaos of their journey had distracted him, but Hans was clearly well-built—probably one of the more capable soldiers among the guards.
He’d likely make a good shield-bearer too.
Truthfully, Ranshel had never held any real grudge against Hans.
Even now, he was just a decent young man doing his best for his mother.
And he was easy to talk to. Simple, uncomplicated.
Unlike Zavad, who was anything but easy.
Even if Ranshel wanted to treat him well, he couldn’t just act kindly.
And trying to be cruel didn’t work either—Zavad was far too perceptive.
If Ranshel acted too simply, he’d be read like an open book.
Especially sensitive to malice, Zavad had initially reacted well to being provoked and having his pride bruised.
But once he figured Ranshel out, even the worst insults didn’t seem to move his status meter anymore.
He did still react strongly when it came to his mother, Charlotte.
But she was practically his Achilles’ heel—poking at that would only backfire.
‘But then how did Hans raise his affection level so much?’
They clearly hadn’t known each other for long.
It was baffling.
Affection and resentment alone couldn’t explain it.
There must be another criterion Ranshel wasn’t aware of.
Still, he decided to stick to his original plan—one that had kept him high on the list so far, and which had proven successful in building points steadily.
Gain their trust from close by, then betray them completely.
Just like Petro had done.
First, Ranshel needed to reawaken Zavad’s thirst for revenge.
And he needed intel on Charlotte’s current whereabouts.
‘Should I send a request to the Nameless side?’
They wouldn’t help with a personal favor, but if he pitched it as part of the mission, maybe they’d bring back even scattered information.
‘Simon will probably relocate here soon too.’
Simon had been acting as a deliveryman—watching Ranshel and awaiting orders to handle the aftermath.
So they were bound to meet again soon.
Delta Academy looked more like a palace than a school.
A grand gate loomed between towering walls, and an intense inspection process was underway.
“Please present your identification badge along with an official document stamped by the headmaster.”
Getting into the academy was more intense than entering the capital.
Verification of the applicant’s identity was strict, and companions were limited to attendants serving noble candidates.
Others were directed to a separate waiting area.
* * *
FINALLY UPDATED 😭