CHAPTER 2: CONFLICTED DESIRES
Jiho woke with a start, his heart hammering against his ribs. The barracks were silent except for the soft breathing of sleeping recruits in nearby bunks. He lay in the darkness, his mind replaying the previous night over and over—Errai's touch, the warmth of her fingers against his face, the way her breath had felt against his skin. It had been real. It had to have been real.
But when morning came and he saw her during the first training session, Errai was back to her usual cold self, barking orders with the same harsh intensity she directed at everyone else. If anything, she seemed even more demanding with him, pushing him harder during drills, her voice cutting through the air with surgical precision.
"Faster, Jiho! You move like a wounded animal!" she shouted as he struggled through the obstacle course. "If you can't keep up with the basics, how do you expect to survive in the field?"
Yet he caught it—that brief moment when their eyes met, and something flickered across her face. A softness. A vulnerability. Then it was gone, replaced by the familiar mask of authority.
The confusion was maddening.
By midday, Jiho found himself in the academy's gymnasium for hand-to-hand combat training. The space was vast, with mirrored walls and padded floors. Most of the recruits were already warming up, their bodies glistening with sweat as they stretched and practiced basic moves.
Jenny was the first to approach him, her tall frame casting a shadow over his smaller one. She was dressed in black athletic shorts and a sports bra that left little to the imagination, her muscular abdomen on full display. A thin sheen of perspiration covered her dark skin.
"Ready to get your ass handed to you?" she asked, but there was something playful in her tone that contradicted her aggressive words. She grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward one of the training mats.
"I don't think—" Jiho started, but Jenny was already moving, her movements fluid and practiced. She swept his legs out from under him, and he found himself on his back, gasping for air as she pinned him down. Her body was pressed against his, her breathing heavy and close to his ear.
"You're too tense," she whispered, her voice dropping to something almost intimate. "You need to relax. Let your body move naturally." Her hips shifted slightly against his, and Jiho felt heat flood through him. Was she doing this deliberately? The way her thigh pressed between his legs, the way her breasts were nearly touching his chest...
"Jenny!" Errai's voice cut through the moment like a blade. "That's enough. Move on to the next drill."
Jenny pulled away, but not before Jiho caught the smirk on her face. She knew exactly what she'd been doing.
Later, in the mess hall, Amai sat down across from him with her tray of food. Her red hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail, and her kind eyes were warm as she smiled at him.
"How are you holding up?" she asked softly, glancing around to make sure no one was paying too much attention to their conversation.
"It's... intense," Jiho admitted, grateful for her kindness. "Everyone hates me."
"Not everyone," Amai said, and there was something in the way she said it that made his pulse quicken. She reached across the table and squeezed his hand briefly. "I don't hate you. And I don't think some of the others do either. They're just... confused. We all are."
Her touch lingered just a moment too long, and when she pulled her hand away, her cheeks were flushed a delicate pink.
Mira watched from across the mess hall, her blonde hair catching the fluorescent light. Her expression was unreadable, but Jiho noticed how her jaw tightened as she observed his interaction with Amai. She turned away sharply, her petite frame rigid with what looked like jealousy.
That evening, as Jiho was returning to the barracks after a grueling training session, he was intercepted by Kali. The former Miss Universe was dressed in casual academy sweats, her dark skin glowing with a natural radiance that seemed almost otherworldly. She was alone, which was unusual—Kali typically surrounded herself with other recruits.
"Walk with me," she commanded, not asked. It wasn't a request.
They walked in silence through the academy grounds, the setting sun casting everything in shades of gold and amber. Finally, Kali spoke.
"I owe you an apology," she said, her regal accent making even those simple words sound like poetry. "My initial reaction to you was... unfair. I judged you based on preconceptions rather than who you actually are."
Jiho was taken aback. "I... thank you. That means a lot."
Kali stopped walking and turned to face him. In the fading light, her features were even more striking. "The truth is, your presence here challenges everything we've built. Everything we believe about ourselves. It's threatening." She stepped closer, and Jiho could smell her perfume—something exotic and expensive. "But it's also... intriguing."
She reached up and touched his cheek, her fingers tracing his skin with deliberate slowness. Unlike Errai's touch the night before, which had been tentative and confused, Kali's touch was confident and commanding. She was testing him, asserting her dominance even as she showed him affection.
"You're going to cause a lot of problems here," she whispered. "For all of us."
Before Jiho could respond, footsteps approached, and Kali pulled her hand away. A figure emerged from the shadows—it was Jiha, and her expression was thunderous.
Jiha was striking in her own right, with features that bore a subtle resemblance to Jiho's own. She had the same dark eyes, the same sharp jawline. She was dressed in the academy's standard training uniform, but there was something about the way she carried herself that suggested authority beyond her rank as a recruit.
"What's going on here?" Jiha demanded, her voice cold and accusatory as she looked between Kali and Jiho.
"Nothing," Kali said smoothly, though there was an edge to her voice. "Just a conversation."
"It didn't look like just a conversation," Jiha shot back. She turned her gaze to Jiho, and something flickered across her face—recognition, perhaps, or confusion. "You. Come with me. Now."
Jiho followed her, confused and increasingly disoriented by the day's events. They walked in tense silence until they reached a secluded area near the academy's perimeter, away from prying eyes.
"What's your name?" Jiha asked abruptly.
"Yoon Jiho," he replied. "Why?"
Jiha's eyes widened slightly. "That's... my family name too. My stepfather's name was Yoon." She studied his face intently, as if searching for something. "How old are you?"
"Eighteen."
"And your mother's name?"
"Park Soo-jin. Why are you asking me—"
Jiha's hand shot out and grabbed his collar, pulling him close. Her eyes were intense, searching, and there was something almost desperate in her expression.
"Because," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly, "I think you might be my step-brother."
"I'm... I'm a new recruit," he managed, his voice cracking embarrassingly.
"I can see that," Errai said coldly, circling him like a predator assessing prey. "What I don't understand is why. This is an all-female academy. We don't need men here. We've proven we don't need men anywhere." She stopped directly in front of him, her face inches from his. He could smell her perfume—something floral and intoxicating. "You're going to be a problem, aren't you?"
Before he could respond, another woman pushed forward—petite, with blonde hair and delicate features that seemed almost doll-like. She was beautiful in a way that made Jiho's breath catch, but her expression was pure venom.
"My name is Mira," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "And I speak for most of us when I say you're not welcome here. This is our space. Our academy. Our future. You don't belong."
"She's right," came another voice—this one deeper, with an accent Jiho couldn't immediately place. A tall woman with dark skin and striking features stepped forward. She was regal, commanding, with the bearing of someone accustomed to being admired. This was Kali, the former Miss Universe turned police officer. Even her hostility carried an air of elegance. "We've worked too hard to build something for ourselves. We don't need a man undermining that."
Jiho felt his chest tighten. He'd known this wouldn't be easy, but the sheer weight of their collective disdain was suffocating. He opened his mouth to speak, to defend himself, but before he could, a softer voice interrupted.
"Maybe we should give him a chance?"
The woman who spoke had vibrant red hair and kind eyes that seemed genuinely sympathetic. Her name was Amai, and she was smiling at him—the first genuine smile he'd received since arriving. She was cute in an approachable way, with curves that filled out her training uniform in a way that made Jiho quickly look away.
"Don't be naive, Amai," Jenny said, stepping into view. She was tall—taller than most of the other women—with short dark hair and a powerful build that suggested she could snap him in half without breaking a sweat. Despite her intimidating appearance, there was something almost playful in her eyes as she looked at him. "The boy's here now. Might as well make his life interesting."
There was something in the way she said it—something that made Jiho's pulse quicken despite his fear.
The days that followed were brutal.
Errai seemed to take particular pleasure in pushing him to his absolute limits during training. She'd bark orders at him with a harshness she didn't direct at the other recruits, her voice cutting through the morning air like a whip. Yet sometimes, when she thought he wasn't looking, he'd catch her watching him with an expression that didn't quite match her harsh words. There was something in her gaze—a flicker of something that might have been concern, or perhaps something far more complicated.
Mira made a point of excluding him from group activities, her blonde hair catching the sunlight as she deliberately turned her back to him. But he noticed how she'd position herself where he could see her, how she'd stretch during breaks in a way that seemed almost deliberate, her petite frame moving with practiced grace.
Kali maintained her regal distance, but there were moments—brief, fleeting moments—when their eyes would meet across the training grounds, and he'd see something in her expression that contradicted her earlier words of rejection. It was as if two versions of her existed: the one who despised his presence, and another who was curious about him in ways she couldn't quite suppress.
Jenny's bullying took on a different character. She'd "accidentally" bump into him during drills, her strong body pressing against his in ways that seemed far too deliberate to be accidental. She'd challenge him to sparring matches and pin him to the ground, her weight on top of him, her breathing heavy and close to his ear. There was something almost flirtatious in her aggression.
And Amai... Amai was different. She'd leave extra portions of food for him in the mess hall. She'd offer to help him with training techniques, her hands guiding his movements, lingering just a moment too long. Her kindness was genuine, but there was an undercurrent of something else—something that made her blush whenever their hands touched.
On the seventh night, as Jiho lay in his bunk unable to sleep, he heard footsteps approaching. A figure emerged from the darkness—it was Errai, still in her training clothes, her dark hair slightly disheveled. She stood over his bunk, silhouetted against the moonlight streaming through the window.
"You're not as weak as I thought," she said quietly, her voice stripped of its usual harshness. "That doesn't mean you belong here. But..." she paused, and in that pause, something shifted between them. "Maybe you're not a complete waste of space."
Before he could respond, she reached down and touched his face, her fingers tracing his jawline with surprising gentleness. For a moment, the air between them crackled with tension—raw, undeniable, and terrifying in its intensity.
Then she was gone, disappearing back into the darkness, leaving Jiho alone with his racing heart and the growing realization that his time at this academy was going to be far more complicated than he'd ever imagined.