There was just… something about a man in uniform.

Not just any man, of course—Jiyan.

You’d seen him countless times before in casual robes, training gear, even half-asleep in nothing but a loose sash. But when he stood tall in full uniform—coat crisp, shoulders squared, every line and buckle perfectly in place—you couldn’t help but stare a little longer.

He wasn’t just a man in uniform. He was the man. Commander. General. The kind whose very presence demanded respect.

And yet, he was yours.

The same man who held your hand a little too long when no one was watching. The same man who mumbled soft apologies when his duties pulled him away from dinner. The same man who reached for you in his sleep, arms wrapping around you as if even in dreams, he couldn’t let you go.

But when he walked toward you in uniform, sharp and commanding, eyes locked on yours with that quiet intensity—oh. You had to look away, just to keep your heart from giving you away.

“Something wrong?” he asked once, when he caught you staring a little too openly.

“No,” you said, voice a little too casual. “Just… uniform day, huh?”

He raised a brow—just slightly—but you caught the amused flicker in his eyes. “Noted,” he murmured, and next thing you knew, uniform days became more frequent.

Coincidence? Maybe.

Or maybe your proud, dignified general enjoyed the effect he had on you more than he let on.