Chapter 3

Half a month later, the three advanced combat platoons were scheduled for a military exercise. They were shuffled into mixed units, forming a total of eight teams. The exercise took place on an island, with the objective of rescuing hostages captured by kidnappers.

The eight teams jumped from transport planes from different directions, landing on the shallow shoals. The planes departed quickly. Justice and her team reached the shore, and their wrist instruments indicated the target was to the east. Justice led her team toward the hostage location, stopping to hide when they were two thousand meters away. The other seven teams all launched assaults toward the building in the center of the island, and the sounds of gunfire were already echoing.

Within half an hour, a broadcast announced that the third team had been entirely captured—the speed was staggering. By evening, as Justice and her team were eating compressed rations, seven hours had passed since they landed, and five teams had already been taken prisoner. Only three teams remained, waiting for nightfall.

A hushed voice whispered, "Captain, how long are we going to wait?"
Justice yawned. "Wait for them to rescue the hostages, then we’ll snatch them."

When the night was at its darkest, the sounds of combat broke out; the two remaining teams had decided to cooperate. Through her binoculars, Justice spotted the hostages appearing. She gave the order, "Move out, secure the hostages."

Everyone who had been crouching on the ground stood up in an instant, charging forward behind Justice. The firefight ahead had reached a fever pitch. The combined strength of the two teams was roughly equal to that of the enemy, and both sides had already sustained significant casualties. Seeing Justice and her team vaulting over the walls, the prisoners cursed her for being shameless, hiding until the very end to steal the victory. Justice fired several shots, hitting the chatty prisoners, and arched an eyebrow with a smirk. "Dead men can’t talk."

The prisoners glared at her. With the main groups occupied in combat, Justice’s team launched a surprise attack from the rear, capturing both sides. Justice stepped up to the hostages and said with a beaming smile, "Poor little girl, big sister is here to save you."

The instructor threw his wig onto the ground and berated the prisoners, scolding them for their impulsiveness and lack of judgment. Justice’s team had suffered no injuries; the victors were rewarded with a day off, while the prisoners were all punished with an extra day of drills.

The next day, Ross stood below the apartment building. He wore a beige crew-neck sweater, grey casual trousers, and black-rimmed communication glasses, looking cultured, refined, and polite. Justice came downstairs wearing a light purple shirt under a long white knit cardigan, paired with dark grey slim-fit trousers and black boots. For once, her blonde hair was worn loose down her back.

"Kept you waiting. Let’s go."
"Not long. Hmm."

Ross invited Justice to visit a research institute. Their graduation project had already been assigned, focusing on a newly discovered form of nuclear power. Heavily armed security guards took their passes, recorded their faces, and let them through. The two couldn't roam freely and were restricted to the public areas, but it was enough for the students to spend the morning taking notes.

At noon, they ate at a quiet restaurant, chatting about the institute and their plans after graduation.
"Justice, where are you going after graduation?"
"Me? I’m staying at the academy." Justice said, smiling easily as she ate ice cream.
Ross asked, confused, "Why would you want to stay? With your grades, you have a bright future ahead of you."
"Oh, please. You’re a young master; a bright future is easy for you. I have nothing but my grades; I’m already overjoyed just to be able to stay."
Ross frowned slightly. "The military doesn't care about background."
"Who would want to go to a place where your life is on the line? Would you?"

"I have already applied to serve in the South Lav region."
Justice looked up, mouth agape in surprise. "Why are you being so self-destructive? With your family status, you could join the Knights."
Ross smiled faintly. "Only in dangerous places can one truly grow."
Justice shook her head. "You’ve got your brother covering for you; you won’t lose your life anyway. I don’t understand why you’re looking for trouble."
Ross didn't pursue the topic. "Do you have any plans for the afternoon?"
"I’m going to get a haircut later."

Two hours later, Justice’s blonde hair was neat, long, and silky straight. Ross looked at her and said, "It suits you."
Justice accepted the compliment and returned to the academy with him.
"You guys actually have to take art classes? Why does the Command Department need to study this?"
"The professor says it relieves psychological stress."

Ross had chosen a sculpture class, and Justice, having nothing to do that day, tagged along for fun. Art classes were fairly casual, and many students weren't even wearing their academy uniforms. Justice tied on an apron, and Ross handed her a sculpting knife. A clay mold sat before her, and she began to carve out a shape. In front of Ross stood a life-sized white stone sculpture, already quite refined; he tapped his chisel with a hammer, chipping away here and there.

The whole classroom was filled with people chatting, listening to music through headphones, or even ordering takeout drinks—the atmosphere was impossibly relaxed. Justice scraped at the clay, stroke after stroke, until the mold looked more like a stick than anything else.

Suddenly, the hand holding the sculpting knife was covered and guided by another. Ross was standing behind her, teaching her. He was earnest, showing no strange behavior, but Justice felt uneasy. Her ears turned hot, and she shifted her body forward to put some distance between her back and his chest. Ross noticed her reddening ears, the corner of his mouth lifting, but he didn't lean in further, maintaining his distance as he taught.

The shapeless clay stick began to take on a contour and gradually became more detailed, looking remarkably like her. Justice turned her head to look back, and Ross was just inches away. Their breathing was audible. Her blue eyes blinked rapidly as if startled, and she immediately turned back, pulling her hand away. "You’ve done all the sculpting, what’s left for me to do?"

Ross laughed. "This is just the first step. Look, there’s nothing here yet."
He naturally took her hand again, the tip of the knife pointing to various spots, prompting her to continue. With his breath brushing against the back of her neck, Justice’s hand grew warm. If she had known sculpture would be taught this way, she certainly wouldn't have come.
"Alright, alright, I get it. You go back to your own work."

Justice refused his help. Ross stood by her shoulder, watching her. "You can come learn this in the future; it helps manage stress."
"I'll see if I have time."
Ross let go of her hand, appearing easygoing. "If you can't carve it, I'll get you another piece of clay."
"No need, I’ll keep working on this one." Now that it had a shape, finishing it was much more rewarding. Ross smiled and went back to finishing his own work.

Time in the art class passed quickly. The bell had long since rung, but Justice was still immersed in her work. The setting sun projected through the windows, casting a golden glow over the stone sculpture—it was quite artistic.
"Justice, we should go. They’re locking up."
Without realizing it, Justice and Ross were the only ones left in the room. Justice put down her knife. The clay sculpture, which had once had a clear outline, was now unrecognizable after her "refinements."

Ross laughed out loud. "What is this?"
Justice hesitated for a long time. "I was just following the spots you pointed out. Who knew it would turn into this?"
When she checked the time on her wrist, she gasped, "It’s so late! Misar!"
She dashed out like a whirlwind, sprinting for three minutes while picking up water, arriving at the training ground just as she heard the instructor call for dismissal. The prisoners from the previous day were all collapsed on the ground.

Justice stepped over the many sprawled bodies and reached Misar, pulling him up to a sitting position and handing him water. Misar was drenched in sweat and utterly exhausted; he finished the entire bottle. A group of people nearby begged Justice for water. She took their money, went to buy a large case of it, and handed them out one by one. They had been drilled all day and didn't even have the strength to stand.

Ross passed by, took a look at the scene inside, and walked away, seemingly indifferent.

In the academy cafeteria, Misar lay slumped on the table with his mouth open, and Justice fed him. Five bites of food, one sip of drink—others saw this and teased them.
"Misar, you’re so pampered. You’ve lost all the dignity of a man."
"Misar, Justice has serious 'girlfriend energy'."
Misar didn't feel ashamed; instead, he seemed proud. "My girlfriend is excellent; are you all jealous?"
The group roared with laughter. "Yeah, jealous to death. If she ever beats you, no one will be able to save you."
Justice glanced at them, and the laughter stopped instantly. They all turned away and ate in silence. Misar laughed and opened his mouth again, and Justice fed him spoonful by spoonful.

Outside the school gate, Justice pulled her motorcycle to a stylish stop, propped it up with one foot, and handed the helmet to Misar. After putting it on, he sat in the back and wrapped his arms tightly around Justice’s waist. The motorcycle roared, kicking up dust, and vanished in an instant.

Their classmates sighed together.
"Misar is a lucky guy."
"I want to be a pampered husband too; I don't want to work hard."
"How come we never knew Justice was actually so gentle?"
"If I'd known, I would have confessed to her."
"Don't go looking for death. Justice is staying at the academy; she and Misar are going to aim for the Dean’s position when they get married."
"I think she can do it. Misar is truly lucky—lying back while Justice earns the honors for him."

Not far away, Ross stood there, having seen and heard everything. His eyes tracked the motorcycle until a hovercar appeared before him. The driver stepped out, Ross got in, and the vehicle drove off at high speed.

On the neon-lit streets at night, the black motorcycle sped through, stopping at a custom formal wear shop. Justice took off her helmet, revealing her blonde hair. The motorcycle automatically drove itself to the parking area, and the shop assistant was already waiting at the door to welcome them.

They were there for engagement attire and graduation ceremony outfits. Misar’s parents were very open-minded; Justice’s excellence was plain for all to see, and they welcomed her into the family. The two planned to marry after graduation, and their future was already mapped out.

A black hovercar parked outside the shop. Through the window, one could see the two of them trying on clothes. They looked at each other with shyness; Misar’s eyes were bright, and the look Justice gave him was incredibly tender. Standing together, they were a perfect match. The shop assistant kept showering them with compliments, saying everything looked beautiful on them.

Two hours later, the black motorcycle left, heading toward the residential district and stopping in front of a beautiful, detached house. Soon, the dark house lit up—first floor, second floor, third floor—signaling the return of its owners.

In the distance, the window of the hovercar rolled up. The glasses connected to the car's sound system, and a dialing tone rang out. Once connected, a low voice spoke.
"Ross, why at this hour?"
From inside the car came a stifled, heartbroken voice.
"Big brother, help me."