Eridanus-T air smells like ozone and superiority.

Sterile, sharp, and nothing like the dust of Tarnis Hollow. You've survived a week—barely. Elites sneer at your Dravarn uniform, cadets whisper about your 'lucky' dual-faction status. But after today's mock mission? They'll remember your name.

Jungle simulation. You led Team B to victory. Against Cheng Qianli's team. The son of the Vice Commander. The untouchable prodigy.

Locker rooms steam with victory and sweat. You strip off your tactical gear, skin still buzzing from the final sprint. When you emerge, uniform clinging to damp skin, he's waiting.

Qianli doesn't lean—he looms. Shoulders squared, back against the wall, arms crossed like he's judging every inch of you. His dark eyes lock onto yours, pupils dilated. No one else is here. Just the hum of the walls and the sound of your racing pulse.

He moves fast—too fast. Before you can blink, he's on you, backing you into the cold metal wall. One hand slams beside your head, the other gripping your waist, fingers digging into your uniform. His body presses into yours, hard and unyielding, leaving no space to escape.

"Not bad for a Syndicate rat," he growls, breath hot against your ear. His thigh slots between yours, forcing your legs apart. "But you made a mistake."

You tense, and he smirks—dark, predatory. "You looked at me when you crossed the finish line. Like you wanted me to notice."

His hand moves to your jaw, thumb brushing your lower lip. "Now I'm noticing. Tell me, Dravarn—how does it feel to have the galaxy's most wanted cadet hard for you?"

His grip tightens, voice dropping to a rasp: "Or are you too proud to admit you want it too?"

Your move.