The training ground was a hive of activity. Instructor Shadis had split everyone into pairs for ODM sparring exercises—which meant, much to Vivienne's displeasure, that she was now stuck with Jean.
"All right, listen up," Shadis barked. "The goal is simple: keep your balance, avoid attacks, and learn how to move in the air! You'll do some light sparring to simulate fighting Titans—or, more realistically, bandits or marauders inside the Walls!"
Jean exhaled sharply and adjusted his straps. Across from him, Vivienne tightened her grip on the triggers, her emerald-green eyes glinting with determination.
"Tch," Jean muttered, rolling his shoulders. "Guess I'll have to take it easy on you, Princess."
Vivienne raised an eyebrow. "That's funny. I was just thinking the same thing about you."
Jean scoffed. Cocky little—
Shadis' voice boomed across the field. "Go!"
Jean launched forward, his ODM gear hissing as he manoeuvred towards her. Fast. Direct. He’d knock her off balance before she even had a chance—
Vivienne spun suddenly in the air, narrowly avoiding him. Jean’s eyes widened. She was fast.
Before he could recover, she swung behind him, her boot slamming into his back.
Shit.
Jean twisted at the last second, parrying the blow with his forearm. The impact still sent him off course for a moment.
When he steadied himself, Vivienne grinned.
"What's the matter, Mr MP? I thought you were so much better than me? Looks like I was right—all muscle, no strategy."
Jean gritted his teeth. "Yeah? And you try too damn hard to impress everyone."
Something flickered in her expression, and her grin vanished.
Jean pushed forward.
"You think I can't see it? The way you push yourself harder than anyone else?" he taunted. "You don't have to prove anything to me, D'Aubigne. If you want to break your back trying to be a hero, go ahead."
Vivienne didn’t know what was worse—that his words were true, or that they’d come from Jean of all people. She had modified her ODM triggers for one simple reason: to prove she wasn’t just a spoiled noble girl. She refused to be left behind.
Her grip on the controls tightened. "I don’t care what you think."
"Yeah?"
Jean shot forward again, catching her off guard. Their ODM lines tangled as they collided in mid-air, and Jean grabbed her wrist to keep them both from spinning.
For a second, they just hung there, suspended, their faces inches apart.
Vivienne’s breath was unsteady, her eyes locked on his. Jean could feel the warmth of her skin beneath his fingers.
Shit.
He let go first. "Tch. Just don’t slow me down," he muttered, quickly manoeuvring away.
Vivienne hesitated, her heart pounding. Then she scoffed and tossed her hair over her shoulder.
"Don't fall behind, Kirschstein."
Jean didn’t answer.
But damn it, he was beginning to enjoy these arguments a little too much.
Two days later, the two of them were put on a team again. Once again.
Vivienne hadn’t counted, but she noticed it all the same. And it irritated her.
"All right, you brats," Shadis said, crossing his arms. "This exercise will test your ability to adapt in the air! One of you will be the ‘target’—evade, counter, and defend. The other? Attack and break their stance." His sharp gaze swept over them. "Swap roles every five minutes! And if I see anyone slacking off, you’ll regret it!"
Jean exhaled slowly. He could handle it.
"Don’t lag behind," Vivienne teased, saluting mockingly.
Jean rolled his eyes. "Don’t start."
He struck first, his movements precise, calculated. This time, he didn’t underestimate her. Vivienne wasn’t bad, but her ODM skills weren’t on his level. He would not lose.
She spun mid-air, narrowly dodging his attack. Quick, controlled—like someone with close-combat training. Jean hated to admit it, but she was skilled. Ever since she’d modified her ODM triggers, her movements had become more fluid, more efficient.
But that didn’t make her better than him.
He closed the gap.
Vivienne dodged—barely. Their ODM cables crossed, and for a split second, Jean saw it—a flicker of hesitation in her eyes.
His instincts screamed at him. Now.
He feinted left. Vivienne reacted—too slow.
Got her.
He hooked an arm around her waist, knocking her off balance.
A sharp gasp escaped her lips as Jean manoeuvred them both downwards. He had her.
But instead of frustration, Vivienne just grinned.
"Oh no," she said dryly, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You got me."
Jean’s forehead twitched. Smartass.
Shadis blew his whistle. "Switch roles!"
Jean barely had time to process it before Vivienne flipped their positions, forcing him into a defensive stance.
Shit.
He realised it then. She’d been playing for time. That’s why she’d hardly attacked at all. Vivienne had wanted him close—so she could use it against him.
Jean barely dodged her next strike. Quick. Too quick. Her technique was sharp, her movements smoother than before. He blocked another blow but lost ground.
And just as she was about to lunge again—
Shadis' whistle split through the air.
Vivienne’s eyes widened.
Jean smirked. Got you this time.
He shot forward. She dodged back, landing on a thick branch—
Only to slip.
She toppled backwards against the trunk with a soft thud.
Stolen novel; please report.
A low chuckle rang out. Jean leaned casually on his ODM line, eyes glinting.
"Sorry, Princess. Looks like you fell on your ass again."
Vivienne gritted her teeth. She really hated him.
Then it was time to practise taking down Titans again.
The air was filled with the rush of wind and the sharp whistle of ODM gear as the cadets swung through the training grounds. The hard thud of boots hitting the dirt echoed as Vivienne landed, adjusting the straps of her equipment. Her focus was already locked on the next Titan dummy in front of her. She was focused—laser-focused—on the drills, determined not to let her mind wander.
Until Jean Kirschtein came into view, soaring effortlessly through the air with his usual precision.
Vivienne’s grip on her ODM triggers tightened. She didn’t want to watch him—not now, not when she was trying so hard to stay focused—but it was impossible to look away. There was something about the way he moved. His body worked in perfect harmony with his gear, his aim sharp as he thrust towards the dummy’s nape, striking his target with flawless execution. His movements were so controlled, so natural, that it all seemed effortless.
Something twisted in her chest.
True, Vivienne had successfully modified her equipment and would argue she was faster than him. But Jean was a genius with ODM. Without any modifications, he moved and made it look all easy.
She tried to shake the strange feeling rising in her, but it was no use. She was distracted. And she had no idea why.
It wasn’t like she had time to think about it. There was work to do, and she was more than capable. But every time she saw the ease with which Jean moved, everything else seemed to blur.
With a sharp breath, she forced herself back into focus.
She shot forward, her lines slicing through the air as she aimed at her own target. She had to admit—she was getting better at this. Each training session made her faster, more confident, less afraid to take risks. But just as she glanced over her shoulder to check Jean’s progress, she misjudged the angle of her next swing.
Her boot clipped the side of a rock.
She lost balance.
Shit.
Wind rushed past her as she lost balance, her body jerking violently mid-air.
"Damn it!"
That sickening moment of weightlessness hit her stomach. Instinctively, her hands shot out for anything—anything—but she was too late.
She braced for impact—
"Vivienne! Watch out!"
Jean.
Before she could register what was happening, strong fingers clamped around her wrist. With a quick manoeuvre, he swung her back, steadying her before she could hit the ground.
She inhaled sharply, her chest rising and falling as she steadied herself. Her eyes flicked up, wide with shock.
"Are you all right?" Jean’s voice was raspy, his breathing still uneven from the movement, but his gaze was sharp, steady. He didn’t let go immediately—his fingers still firm around her wrist.
Vivienne blinked, her pulse hammering in her ears. She hadn’t expected to fall. But she certainly hadn’t expected this.
"Yes… thank you." She pulled her wrist free and stepped back, suddenly aware of the heat creeping up her cheeks.
Jean didn’t seem to notice. He just grinned.
"I guess I’m not as bad as you thought."
Vivienne crossed her arms, trying to settle the strange feeling tightening in her chest.
"I didn’t ask for your help."
Jean raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.
"No? Because it looked like you were about to faceplant into the dirt."
"I had it under control." She gritted her teeth. But could she really say that? Why did she feel so unsteady? It was just Jean. Why was she nervous?
Because he was the biggest asshole here.
Jean was already moving again, seamlessly slipping back into rhythm as he lunged forward. But his voice—teasing, smug—floated back over his shoulder.
"Of course you did, Princess. Just like you had it under control when you nearly smashed into that rock."
Vivienne’s face darkened. Oh, he was not getting the last word.
"You think you’re so clever, don’t you, Jean?"
She shot forward again, eyes locked on her target. This time, she wasn’t letting anything distract her. Not his grin. Not his voice. Not the way his gaze had lingered on her.
For a split second, her aim wavered.
Focus, Vivienne! she snapped at herself. Concentrate!
She propelled herself forward again—no hesitation this time—and sliced through the dummy’s nape. The satisfaction of a perfect kill settled in her bones.
When she landed, she didn’t glance back at Jean.
But she knew he was there.
He’d been watching her all along, hadn’t he?
The smell of toasted bread and something slightly meaty drifted through the evening air as Vivienne sat on a log near the training grounds, tugging at the straps of her boots. It had been a long day.
Drills, martial arts, and yet another round of ODM training. She hadn’t minded too much. Progress was slow, but it was there.
Still, her thoughts kept circling back.
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop comparing herself to Jean—how effortlessly he moved, how natural it all seemed for him. It wasn’t just envy. It was frustration.
Would she ever be good enough?
Was she even average compared to the others here?
She had just leaned back, exhaling softly, when a voice called out.
“Oi, Vivienne!”
She looked up to see Connie jogging towards her, Sasha trailing a step behind, clutching something wrapped in cloth.
“We have a very serious question,” Connie announced, crouching in front of her with an exaggeratedly grave expression.
Vivienne blinked. “All right?”
Sasha plopped down beside her, already unwrapping whatever she was holding. The moment the cloth peeled away, the warm scent of freshly baked bread hit Vivienne’s nose.
“We need an official opinion,” Connie said, tone deadly serious. “Is Sasha’s food hoarding a sign of genius or a deeply concerning obsession?”
Without hesitation, Sasha stuffed half a loaf into her mouth and mumbled, “It’s survival instinct.”
Vivienne stared, then let out a soft laugh. She hadn’t spent much time with them, aside from training or the occasional moment tweaking their ODM gear. But their energy was impossible to ignore.
Still, she wasn’t sure why they were here. People didn’t usually seek her out.
“I don’t know,” she said, tilting her head. “How many rations have mysteriously vanished this week?”
Connie grinned. “More than you’d think.”
Sasha swallowed and waved a hand dismissively. “I don’t steal rations! I borrow them.”
“…Without giving them back.”
Vivienne shook her head, watching them with mild amusement. She’d expected them to be careless—maybe a little naïve. But looking at them now, laughing despite their exhaustion, she realised how natural their camaraderie was.
Connie nudged her shoulder. “You never really sit with us after training.”
Vivienne’s eyes widened slightly. She blinked. “I didn’t think you’d noticed.”
Sasha snorted. “Of course we notice! You’re always working on your gear, and when you’re not, you’re just wandering around on your own.”
Vivienne hesitated.
She was always working—adjusting her equipment, tweaking the triggers, checking the balance. It wasn’t just a habit; it was a necessity. She knew she wasn’t the strongest. She wasn’t the fastest. Jean’s quick manoeuvres had made that painfully clear today.
If she fell behind, if she made a mistake, it was over.
Jean’s words echoed in her head.
You’re trying too damn hard to impress everyone.
Vivienne pressed her lips together. Of all the people she knew here, why did he have to be right?
And as much as she hated to admit it, as much as she didn’t want to prove Jean right again, a part of her did want to prove herself.
She wasn’t just some pampered noble girl playing soldier. She didn’t care what her family’s friends whispered behind closed doors. She was here, and she was going to make a name for herself.
She had assumed—perhaps wrongly—that everyone saw her the same way. That they knew where she came from and thought she didn’t belong here.
Maybe they did. Maybe they didn’t.
But… Connie and Sasha were here, talking to her anyway. As if it were nothing special. As if it were just… normal.
Connie suddenly grinned. “All right, let’s trade secrets. You tell us why you’re so obsessed with modifying and repairing things, and we’ll let you in on Sasha’s black-market snack deals.”
Vivienne blinked. “…You have black-market snack deals?”
Sasha immediately whirled on Connie. “You traitor!”
Connie just chuckled.
Vivienne laughed despite herself. And when Sasha tore the rest of the bread in half and placed a piece in her hand, she didn’t refuse.
Maybe she wasn’t the one at a disadvantage. Maybe she had been the one seeing things the wrong way all along.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
“If anyone should be thanking someone, it’s me,” Connie said. “I have no idea what you did to my ODM controls, and I still don’t understand it if I’m honest, but I swear, it’s miles easier to fly now.”
Sasha, still chewing on a mouthful of bread, nodded in agreement.
The wind shifted, carrying a pleasant breeze across the training grounds. Silence settled over them, comfortable and easy.
Then Connie grinned again.
“That reminds me—I’ve got this old card game from my village. Fancy a round?”
Both cadets turned to Vivienne, waiting for her answer.
Again, Vivienne blinked in surprise. Then, slowly, she smiled.
“…All right.”
Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.