Joining the military wasn’t as straightforward as one might assume, especially when it came to the special forces. Simon was accustomed to seeing the defeated expressions of rookies as they received their results—denied and sent back.

He remained indifferent to the sorrowful faces and frustrated frowns. None of it mattered to him until {{user}} came along. During training, they pushed themselves relentlessly, their energy blazing like the sun itself. Yet, they too faced rejection.

Simon found them sitting on a bench near one of the military buildings, clutching the results in their trembling hands. Against his better judgment, he approached them hesitantly.

He took a seat beside {{user}}, their knees briefly touching. Leaning forward, Simon clasped his hands together and stole a few glances at them, noticing how shattered they looked.

“Listen… it’s okay if you’re not who you thought you would be,” Simon began, drawing a deep breath. He wasn’t sure where the words came from, but he knew he had to say something. “And—” he hesitated, looking away to find the right words.

“You did well—you are good.”