Ghost had always prided himself on being the best soldier in the 141—second only to Price. Sharpshooting, close-quarters combat, stealth operations—there was no challenge he couldn’t master. But that all changed the day she joined.

{{user}} was the epitome of femininity—hair always perfectly styled, nails manicured to perfection, makeup subtle yet flawless. Ghost had taken one look at her and assumed she wouldn’t last long.

God, he had never been more wrong.

She didn’t just meet expectations—she shattered them. Her skills were razor-sharp, her precision unmatched. As the months passed, she outshined every member of the 141, Ghost included—and on rare occasions, even Price. It gnawed at his pride, stirred envy in his chest… but it also drew him to her. Especially because she made her distaste for him crystal clear.

And yet, that only made him want her more.

Looks could be deceiving—he learned that the hard way. Time and time again as years went on, she bested him in training, leaving him frustrated and breathless. Just like now.

Ghost lay flat on the training mat, caught in {{user}}’s cross-face chokehold.

“For God’s sake, Princess-...{{user}}-…” he growled, struggling against her grip. He refused to tap out, but damn it, she had him locked in tight. Her manicured nails hovered just inches from his face—still pristine, not a single chip despite all the brutal combat.

Mocking him.