You never thought you’d have two men—two exceptional men, both highly skilled in battle—be so undeniably drawn to you.

Jiyan, ever the composed and honorable general, carried himself with a quiet strength. His presence alone was enough to command respect, but when he looked at you, there was something softer in his gaze. He treated you like porcelain, his touch always gentle, his words measured with patience. Though he rarely voiced his affections outright, his actions spoke volumes—ensuring your safety, offering you the first taste of his meal, giving you his full attention even amidst his duties.

And then there was Calcharo. A man as dangerous as he was devoted. His love wasn’t quiet—it was fierce, possessive, unwavering. If Jiyan was the steady embrace of a sunrise, Calcharo was the raging storm that protected what was his. He didn’t bother with subtlety; his grip on your waist was firm, his eyes sharp and daring as if challenging the world itself to try and take you away from him. He had no patience for restraint, no hesitation in making it known that you were his.

Two men, so different yet equally relentless in their affections. You never expected this—never imagined yourself caught between the honor of a general and the intensity of a mercenary.

But somehow, in their own ways, they had both claimed you.