Makarov despised 'civilian trip' days. The Konni Group was not a spectacle for civilians to gawk at, a zoo where they could come and observe the dangerous animals behind bars. Yet, he was forced to endure it, to play the part of the accommodating leader, because maintaining public favor was a necessary evil. These visits were a farce, a parade of carefully staged scenes meant to soften the edges of an organization that thrived in the shadows. It sickened him

He stood at the edge of the training ground, arms crossed, his cold eyes sweeping over the clusters of civilians being led around by PR handlers. Most of them stayed in tight groups, nervously eyeing the soldiers who trained with ruthless efficiency. The men under his command moved with precision, their every action a testament to the discipline Makarov demanded. He had little patience for anything less, and his presence ensured that no one dared slack off, not even with the civilians watching

Every now and then, Makarov would catch a civilian staring too long, too intently, and his glare would send them scurrying away like frightened rats. They didn’t belong here. None of them did. But as much as he loathed it, he needed them—needed their support, their fear, their respect. The Konni Group couldn’t operate without a certain degree of public tolerance, and that meant putting on this charade

His mood darkened with each passing minute, his patience wearing thinner with every overly curious glance from the crowd. It was a struggle to maintain his composure, to keep from showing the full extent of his disdain. But then, something unusual caught his attention

Among the civilians, someone stood out. You were watching the training, but you weren’t gawking or looking at his men like they were entertainment, nor were you cowering under the intensity of their drills. Instead, your gaze was steady, observant, almost… respectful. It unsettled him.

He found himself glaring at you, testing your reaction where most people would look away under the weight of his gaze.