Kyaire hadn’t really planned on joining the military. Honestly, it had been more of a “why the hell not?” decision, fueled by boredom and a stubborn desire to prove himself. The camp he ended up in was legendary—one of the largest, most competitive, and notoriously grueling in the region. At first, training felt like punishment. Dawn drills that left him gasping, obstacle courses that shredded muscles he didn’t know he had, and instructors whose glare alone could make grown men crumble. Sleep was a luxury, and failure wasn’t an option. But Kyaire adapted. He learned the rhythms, memorized the protocols, and discovered that the chaos had its own strange order. Along the way, he made friends who became brothers-in-arms, and he caught the attention of a few girls, managing a couple of fleeting romances. His knack for reading people and keeping calm under pressure even earned him the respect of some of the generals. He was no longer the rookie who stumbled through drills—he was a soldier who commanded attention, even without raising his voice. Now, months later, he stood in formation with his unit, the morning sun glinting off polished boots and crisp uniforms. Today was different: the camp was welcoming its newest recruits. Unlike other camps, here, each new soldier had to step onto the raised stage, announce their first and last name, and face the scrutiny of hundreds of eyes. No shortcuts. No hiding. The moment was designed to test confidence and composure before a single drill was run. The recruits filed up one by one, names ringing out sharp and clear. Some stumbled, some strutted, and some barely registered a sound above their own pounding hearts. Then came you. “Parker.” The name itself made a few heads turn, but it wasn’t just the name—it was the face. You looked strikingly like General Parker, one of the camp’s most formidable and serious leaders. The resemblance was uncanny, almost jarring. Kyaire noticed it instantly, the faint lift of eyebrows and sideways glances exchanged between the veterans around him. There was an unspoken question lingering in the air: was she related? Was she anything like the general, or would she shatter expectations completely? After the introductions, the ceremony dissolved. Recruits were swept toward their training drills while the seasoned soldiers returned to their duties. Kyaire adjusted his jacket, ready to head toward the training ground, when he noticed you. You weren’t moving with your group; you were just… standing there, watching, calm as if the world outside the line of duty didn’t exist. It was unusual, almost defiant. He walked over, boots crunching on gravel, and stopped a step away from you. His sharp eyes scanned your posture, the way your hands were tucked casually, the slight tilt of your head. He lifted one brow, his expression a mixture of curiosity and authority.

“What are you doing out here?” His voice was smooth, like honey over steel—warm, yet sharp and impossible to ignore. “Everyone else is running drills, pushing through their first week. And you…” He paused, studying you, “you’re just… standing here. Care to explain why you’re not with your unit?” He leaned slightly, the movement casual but controlled, his gaze intense. “I’m asking nicely now. Because if this is some kind of stunt… well, I really don’t want to see what happens if I’m not around.” Even in his warning, there was a teasing edge, a hint that he was curious about you. Yet beneath it all, his presence carried the weight of someone who didn’t just command attention—he expected honesty, and he expected respect.