The jungle night was dark.

Even the moonlight, split apart by the towering tree shadows, had lost its strength.

It looked exactly like my future.

“So you already know. That makes this faster.”

The evaluator—and Trisan’s spy—Gaven stood beside me and continued.

“In that case, I assume you’ll be submitting a report to Planet Seat Izmael and Starseat Terminus, requesting punishment for Vice-Captain Jo and the assignment of a new adjutant.”

He lived and died by the rulebook.

For months he’d been a daily nuisance, but he hadn’t forced any absurd accusations.

I was a Blue Knight—trained to be brutal and impatient.

Had I felt even a flicker of malice from him before, I might’ve turned and cut him down on the spot.

Tonight was different.

There was a subtle provocation in Gaven’s tone, a hint of expectation I hadn’t heard before.

“I have one question.”

“Yes, Blue Knight. Please ask.”

“If I petition for Jo’s punishment, how does that affect my evaluation? Personnel competence is part of the assessment, isn’t it?”

That sadistic anticipation unique to men whose lives revolve around catching others’ mistakes.

“I can’t reveal evaluation criteria.”

“That’s not what you said before. Didn’t you promise to disclose every item relevant to my performance report?”

“Ah, my apologies. Yes, I did promise. Then I’ll have to tell you—of course it’s a deduction. Among all possible deductions for an officer’s mistakes, this would be the worst in history.”

He smiled like a carnivore about to feed.

“I’ll ask the reason.”

“You failed to recognize it, didn’t you? The sinner who betrayed the Church and deceived our lord.”

“I see.”

He wasn’t wrong.

“Deception is a crime. A stupid one. After months of being fooled, naturally there should be a price.”

“Your quick acknowledgment is admirable. That alone will earn you a small bonus item.”

But I didn’t care whether he was right or wrong.

What mattered was whether it helped or hindered my goal—to protect the soul I’d inherited as a son of the house.

“One more question, then.”

“Go ahead.”

“Does your report go to Commander Terminus of the Border Patrol Corps—or to Senior Heir Trisan?”

“…”

Gaven fell silent.

But the look on his face was answer enough.

“Good. I understand.”

I had never asked that question aloud before.

It had been the unspoken line between us.

“Sir Kyrie, objectively speaking, you are an outstanding knight with exceptional martial prowess.”

“Thank you.”

“But no matter how skilled a knight may be—or rather, precisely because of it—he must never oppose a higher-ranked blood relative. That would be an act of betrayal against himself. The House’s stability exists only upon iron-and-blood discipline.”

But Gaven was the one who crossed that line first.

“Betraying oneself, is it? Poetic.”

I shook my head.

“Still, I think it’s fine to betray oneself as much as one wants. It’s your own self, after all.”

“Then who is it that must not be betrayed?”

“My superior who entrusted me with the sword, and the subordinates who trust me to lead them. Those are the ones I can’t betray. Like my adjutant—the one who’s cared for my soldiers tirelessly and expertly for months.”

“Seems I’ve misjudged you. I thought you possessed the virtue of admitting mistakes and correcting them quickly.”

“If admitting a mistake doesn’t even grant a chance to correct it, then all you can do is make it so the mistake never existed.”

Gaven flinched and glanced at the sword on my hip.

“Are you going to draw it?”

I hesitated, then shook my head.

“Does a squire intend to cross blades with a knight? You and I aren’t enemies who settle things with steel.”

He’d already planted his secret reports among the soldiers he’d bought off.

Cutting off his head wouldn’t end it.

If it would have, I’d have done it already.

The mutant beast incident alone is enough to qualify for the Falling-Star Seat. My report or his—either could make sense.

The real threat wasn’t Gaven.

Once I’m granted the Falling-Star Seat, talk of adjutants won’t matter. No investigator would cross the border to interrogate a single staff officer. Most Falling-Star missions end in death anyway.

The threat was Trisan—the one who would receive his report.

My report has to reach them first.

I reached my conclusion.

Gaven gave a shallow bow and turned back toward his tent.

“Sir.”

“Jo?”

She approached, filling the space he left behind.

The one called Jo—Joy—had abandoned all hope.

It’s over.

The Stellar Dominion was an oppressive world.

The lowborn were expected to dream low.

There were hierarchies upon hierarchies—of gender, age, wealth, region, and birth.

Unless you were born of the Astreios bloodline or knightly nobility, you could never scale those walls.

Joy had done her best.

She’d cut her lush golden hair short.

Bound her body tight in thick bandages.

Altered her face with powder and wax.

Took up the sword and banner.

She’d meant to walk the transcendent path—Staff Officer, Squire, Knight—before anyone could find out.

If she earned knighthood first, she’d be safe.

I didn’t make it.

She’d been discovered.

Caught.

The farmer’s daughter would never become a knight.

I have no regrets, she thought, but still—

Even if she could go back, she’d still give the recruiter her dead brother’s name.

Just because she was lowborn didn’t mean her dreams had to be.

So the ache in her chest wasn’t from guilt over breaking the Church of Eternal Harmony’s doctrine, or from deceiving Duke Peleus.

I’m just sorry.

Sorry toward the Blue Knight who’d cared for soldiers like stones scattered and spent.

Toward the first Astreios she’d served from the heart, not by rule.

It was guilt—for disappointing Kyrie.

He must be shaking with fury. After how well he treated me.

Kyrie was an ambitious man, one who’d pluck out his own eye for advancement.

She couldn’t imagine how enraged he must be—branded as the fool who failed to recognize a woman in disguise under his command.

But something about him was strange.

Why?

He hadn’t spoken a single word of resentment toward her.

Why is he protecting me? Why defend a mere staff officer like me?

He was a Blue Knight.

Even if someone powerful took offense, no knight was punished except for treason.

At worst he’d get a few months’ suspension or a transfer.

“My superior who entrusted me with the sword, and the subordinates who trust me to lead them—those are the ones I can’t betray. Like my adjutant, who’s cared for my soldiers tirelessly for months.”

He’d protected her.

“If admitting a mistake doesn’t even grant a chance to correct it, then all you can do is make it so the mistake never existed.”

That wasn’t passive defense—it was deliberate intervention.

Why?

It felt like a dream.

The world had never been this kind to her.

“Sir, why are you defending me?”

Joy stepped forward, crossing paths with Gaven.

“Jo?”

“I deceived you with a vile trick, didn’t I? If you say that, at least you’ll be safe.”

Kyrie turned toward her.

“Vice-Captain.”

He reached out his hand toward her face.

She froze in place.

Considering what she’d done, she deserved a slap.

But his touch was nothing but gentle.

Cool, isn’t it?

His fingers—chilled from the enchanted cloak sent by Senior Heir Trisan—brushed the tangled strands of her hair back behind her ear.

“Have you ever been negligent in your duties while serving as my adjutant?”

He asked quietly.

The hard phrasing, the warm tone; the lightning in his gaze, the curved line of his mouth; the proud tilt of his chin, the tenderness in his hand—all combined into one bewildering contradiction.

Joy hesitated.

“I believe I’ve done my best. Of course, I can’t presume how my lord feels, but yes. I’m confident I’ve performed my duties as adjutant within my authority, without omission.”

“I think so too. I expect you to continue serving in that way.”

Kyrie didn’t hesitate.

“But, sir—the Church—”

“Don’t speak of the Church of Eternal Harmony. They interpret the Eternal; we follow the Thundering Star. And the Thundering Star never said a word about men’s or women’s dress.”

He never spoke of blasphemy.

“I concealed my identity—”

“Don’t speak of deception, either. You’ve served this house twelve years since training, haven’t you? If someone’s been fooled for twelve years, the fool is at fault—or the standard for deceit is.”

He never spoke of deceit.

“And besides, I’m a woman—”

“If a single secret could make my opinion waver after all your capable service, I’d be too feeble to call myself a knight. What the world thinks of your commission isn’t my concern.”

He never spoke of gender.

“I, Kyrie, have been satisfied with your service—and I expect you to continue.”

He spoke only of what Jo—what Joy—had done for him.

The jungle’s clamor faded from her ears.

The birds, the running water, the insects, the cries of unseen beasts—everything vanished, leaving only Kyrie’s voice.

Once more—

Her heart beat.

A single thread of moonlight pierced through the canopy and fell upon Kyrie.

“There’s something I need you to do.”

“Yes, sir. Just say the word.”

It was like the Thundering Star’s bolt breaking through the Empire’s suffocating sky—
a lightning strike she had always prayed would one day find her too.

Alive.

One threat eliminated, at least. From her expression, Jo won’t side with Gaven. She won’t try to save herself with false testimony—that I took bribes or covered for her identity.

If Jo had turned, I’d have lost control of the unit.

Had Gaven managed to buy her off, it would’ve been fatal.

For now, I had a minimum safeguard.

“Open the gate! Sir Kyrie returns victorious!”

We made it back to the village after three days.

The wounded and exhausted slowed our march.

“Bring a priest from the nearest city!”

Now I had to stay sharp.

Gaven will use his recruited soldiers and the villagers to send his report to the capital. I need mine to reach first—then Andromeda can handle it.

I oversaw the wounded.

Prepared the pyres for the dead.

And kept tracking Gaven’s movements.

“Sir, I’ve gathered the soldiers and guides to send to the city, as you ordered.”

Jo pointed out the chosen men, giving me a meaningful look.

Through Bio-Radar I saw Gaven off in a corner, pushing up his glasses with his middle finger.

The moment they reach the city, he’ll find a courier or a merchant convoy heading to the capital.

I nodded knowingly.

Because I intended to send mine first.

That night, I packed my own report for Andromeda—along with the glass vial of clear secretion taken from the mutant ogre’s nose.

“These are the ones?”

“Yes, sir.”

Outside the door stood Jo and a dozen soldiers she trusted implicitly.

Now comes the critical part.

I led them to the merchant who’d been staying in this village for the past five days.

“Gluttony.”

He couldn’t even look straight at my shadow.

“I assume the soldiers told you the story. The mutant ogre—I killed it.”

“Thank you, thank you, sir!”

“But our losses weren’t small. Ten dead, thirty too wounded to fight. The unit’s practically halved.”

“Please allow me to provide full compensation to the families and pay all medical costs. I’ll also offer a much greater token of gratitude to you personally.”

Gluttony could easily have been torn apart by angry soldiers tonight.

The official mission meant nothing—after facing a six-meter, two-headed monster whose roar nearly drove them insane, no one cared about regulations.

Right now, I was the only thing keeping him alive.

“Compensation’s fine, but I need another favor.”

“Anything, sir. It would be the highest honor for a humble merchant like me to serve a Blue Knight.”

“Take these wounded soldiers to the capital. Deliver the ashes of the dead to the command, and this letter and vial as well.”

Gluttony glanced at the “wounded soldiers.”

Each one was wrapped in bandages and leaning on crutches—but there was no scent of blood, and strangely, they looked full of life.

“And the other letter you were asked to carry?”

“Y-yes…”

“It must be heavy. Leave it. If you plan to keep doing business near the border, best to travel light.”

“Understood.”

Gluttony blinked several times, then nodded.

Chapter 27

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