After Yvette left, Zachary's demeanor shifted dramatically. He lounged comfortably on the sofa, savoring a glass of red wine with a smug expression. Lucas, returning after seeing Yvette off, winced at the sight. He wished Ms. Zeller could witness this.

"Mr. Chambers," Lucas said, "Ms. Zeller has returned to campus."

Zachary took another sip of wine, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. "Well, Lucas, age and experience have their advantages. I knew Yvette would respond better to subtlety."

Lucas blinked, surprised. "So, that last part...was intentional?"

Zachary nodded, chuckling softly. He'd gone to great lengths, orchestrating this performance to guide Yvette toward leadership. His tone grew serious as he turned to Lucas. "Pass a message to the Chambers Group's executive team. Starting tomorrow, Yvette will be acting head in my place. All decisions will go through her; no one reports to me. She's in charge."

Lucas hesitated, concerned. The senior executives were a rigid, entrenched group who might resist Yvette's sudden authority. "Mr. Chambers," he said, "the top brass may not take kindly to Ms. Zeller's elevation. I worry they'll make things difficult for her…"

Zachary gave him a knowing look. He'd anticipated this, viewing it as a test for Yvette. She would eventually need to assert her authority and discern who was trustworthy. This, he felt, was the perfect opportunity for her to handle things independently. And as for those who might try to bully his daughter, they'd soon discover their limitations.

"Don't worry, Lucas. Do you really think they can handle Yvette? The most they'll throw at her are corporate power plays. And anything physical? That would be their last mistake," Zachary replied with a smirk. "Announce her new position without fuss. Everything's in place."

Lucas felt relieved. Mr. Chambers was right. Given Ms. Zeller's personality, she was always the aggressor; anyone disrespecting her would be in for a show.

Bus Route 1 ran directly to Argrol University. Yvette had declined Lucas's offer of a ride, preferring the bus. Sitting at the back, she adjusted her baseball cap and checked a message from Jeremiah: "[How were the pork ribs? Better than mine?]" A slight smile touched her eyes, amused by Jeremiah's playful rivalry, even with the cafeteria lady.

Meanwhile, at Betrico's First Military District, Jeremiah's phone chimed mid-report. He answered, silencing the room. He gave a quick nod, prompting the soldier to continue. Seeing Yvette's reply ("Not as good as yours."), Jeremiah's stern expression softened. He typed back: "[See you in three days.]"

On Seacrity's Route 1, Yvette stowed her phone and leaned against the window, watching the city. Suddenly, a shrill voice cut through the quiet.

"Hey, young lady, don't you know about respecting elders? I'm old enough to be your grandma, and you won't give up your seat? How were you raised? No consideration for seniors! Everyone here—don't you agree she should stand up for me?"

The voice belonged to a sharp-faced woman, likely in her sixties, addressing a young girl. The frail girl looked up helplessly. This kind of dispute was common, so most passengers were initially indifferent. But gradually, some began to chime in.

"Young lady, why don't you just give up your seat? Save us all this noise." "Exactly, respecting elders is a virtue in Clusia. You look young, probably just graduated? You should know better." "Right, it's just one seat. Just get up. Why aren't you saying anything?" "Stop pretending you can't hear us! Stand up and give her your seat!"

The girl looked up, eyes brimming with unshed tears, but she held them back. Staring at her lap, she whispered, "I'm sorry, I can't give up the seat."

The onlookers and the older woman grew more agitated, showering her with sharper words. Just as the older woman raised her hand to strike, a tiny silver needle flew across the aisle, striking her wrist. The woman gasped in pain, her hand freezing. She looked down; the needle lay on the floor—a detail most missed.

"Who says she has to give you her seat?"

The cold, authoritative voice cast an icy chill over the bus. Eyes darted around until they settled on the back row, where a girl in a baseball cap sat, her face mostly hidden.

The older woman glared at Yvette. "Who do you think you are? Butt out! Maybe you're in on this with her. It's called respecting your elders—she should give up her seat!"

The passengers split into two camps—one siding with the older woman, the other remaining uninvolved. Yvette, clearly, was not as easily intimidated.

"Oh, young lady, no one needs to make it a rule. It's common decency! Respect for the elderly is something we all should uphold," one woman insisted. Another added, "You look young. Seems like people your age just don't care about these things anymore. It's disappointing."

Yvette stepped forward, positioning herself between the girl and the old woman. Her gaze swept the crowd, her expression cold. "Oh, I see. You two care a lot about respect for elders, right? Why don't you give up your seats for her?"

The old woman's face lit up, forgetting her pain. The man and woman who had spoken up looked chagrined, regretting their words. Reluctantly, the man stood, gesturing for the old woman to take his seat. He glared at Yvette, but she ignored him.

The old woman, pleased, sat down, oblivious to the fact that the needle would leave her unable to lift her arm for at least two weeks. Yvette turned to the young girl, who murmured, "Thank you."

Yvette glanced at her own left foot and replied calmly, "It's nothing." The girl instinctively moved her left leg. They remained silent until they reached Argrol University.