"You clearly weren't paying attention in political class."
Athrun lifted his chin and shot the other a disdainful look.
Their training with Fred wasn't limited to just combat and control classes - they also studied various humanities and sciences. The curriculum was primarily tailored to their individual strengths.
"Would you two stop arguing..."
For what felt like the hundredth time, Nicol positioned himself between them.
"Brother didn't actually say that..."
Watching the tense standoff and Nicol's helpless expression, Fred averted his gaze. Though his warnings seemed ineffective for now, he knew their influence would grow naturally as his importance in their hearts increased. He wasn't in any hurry - gradual change through subtle influence was his approach. Pushing too hard might only trigger Yzak's rebellious streak.
Raising children truly was an art form.
While Fred was lost in these thoughts, Flay unusually refrained from joining the argument, instead tugging gently at her brother's sleeve.
"Brother, do you think they'll start fighting?"
At Flay's question, the other three fell silent in tacit understanding.
"See? It's quiet now."
"..."
Faced with Fred's pointed remark, everyone's lips twitched simultaneously. They wanted to retort but didn't dare - it was obvious Flay had been asking about whether the Atlantic Federation and PLANT would go to war, not about their daily squabbles.
Though internally complaining, they remained silent, their gazes turning serious as they focused on Fred. Everyone had experienced Fred's foresight and wisdom firsthand, and they genuinely wanted to hear their elder brother's perspective. This was especially true for Athrun, who knew about Fred's true identity.
Even Heather, who had been watching them with maternal affection without speaking, now looked at Fred with amused curiosity, wondering how her son would respond.
"They won't fight for now, but who can predict the future?"
Meeting their collective gaze, Fred dropped the jokes and offered a concise assessment. This wasn't due to any prophetic ability - both sides simply weren't in a position to fight yet. Though many wanted to light the fuse, whether it was Creuset or the clan behind Blue Cosmos seeking to reshape the world, none of them were fully prepared or had matured enough yet.
However, simply turning Junius Seven into an impenetrable fortress wasn't enough. For starters, Fred had no intention of staying cooped up here forever. As the old saying went: thieves may operate for a thousand days, but no one can maintain constant vigilance for that long. The true solution was to quickly eliminate those unstable factors.
And for that, he needed power.
Fred's thoughts circled back to this fundamental requirement. His eyes fell on Fran Harvey's televised speech, and he stood up before anyone could ask further questions.
"Alright, you all keep watching. Let me know if anything develops."
"Ah... Is brother going to work overtime again?"
Seeing Fred rise, Flay pouted adorably and grabbed his sleeve once more.
Of course, for Flay, who rarely got to watch TV with her brother, hearing that he was leaving after such a short time naturally made her reluctant to let him go.
The others also glanced over in tacit understanding, their expressions showing no surprise.
It would have been strange if Fred had stayed to chat with them for a long time.
If Fran Harvey hadn't come over this time, Fred probably wouldn't have shown up at all.
"Yes, if anything major or unexpected happens, let me know, Flay."
Fred crouched down in front of his sister and gently patted her head.
He had to save his family, and for that, he could even save the world.
Of course, after that, perhaps he could retire.
Thinking this, Fred felt reinvigorated.
Flay, who was already accustomed to this gesture, was still reluctant to let go, but she didn't release her grip on Fred's hand.
Today was a rare holiday, and she certainly didn't want to let go.
Her desire to talk more with her brother was obvious.
Seeing Flay's pitiful expression, the young man felt a surge of tenderness.
"Once the research is done, we can go out and play together."
Fred comforted her.
The others sighed at this.
They were familiar with Flay and understood her feelings.
But Fred's approach wasn't wrong either—PLANT currently needed all kinds of strength.
Fred was a genius at the forefront of PLANT's research.
He hardly had any time to rest.
Asking Fred to put aside his research was truly difficult.
"Hmm..."
Flay was still a bit dissatisfied, but she obediently let go.
Though she didn't know what her brother's goals were, she understood that Fred was protecting them.
"Don't worry, brother, we'll take care of Flay."
Athrun nodded, taking over the conversation.
Yzak, who was dragged into it, opened his mouth but didn't argue.
"Mm."
Hearing this, Fred smiled.
Seeing them like this, his decision to have them attend classes together hadn't been wrong after all.
Even if they met on the battlefield in the future, these few would likely show mercy and hold back.
After all, among them were Athrun, the king of slacking off, and Yzak, the king of betrayal. As for the remaining one, a well-known little angel, it was even more so.
The death flags were gradually being removed by him.
"I'll leave it to you, then."
Fred nodded, his sister feeling a bit shy, and then added,
"And once your brother retires, Flay, we can go wherever you want to play."
"Retire..."
Hearing this somewhat unfamiliar term, Flay, who had been feeling a bit embarrassed by the others' words, froze.
Athrun and the others were similarly taken aback.
In all of PLANT, aside from the Natural parents of the First-Generation Coordinators who had come along, very few people had retired.
The reason was simple: they simply hadn't reached the age.
Coordinator bodies were inherently healthy, and it had only been 15 years since George publicly revealed the existence of Coordinators. Most First-Generation Coordinators were now only around fifty years old.
Even George, the first Coordinator, would only be eighty if he hadn't died.
Eighty may seem quite old, but for Coordinators who already possess the Longevity Gene, living past a hundred presents no difficulty.
Moreover, everyone here is a capable Coordinator riding the tide of the era—who wouldn't want to work longer to accumulate more wealth?
In short, the concept of retirement simply doesn't exist here and has hardly even been mentioned.
As for the Retirement Law, while it does exist, it remains only in its infancy.
Pensions are available, but following the standard procedure, the oldest First-Generation Coordinators—only in their fifties or sixties—are still far from being able to retire.
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