Lins

You hated mirrors. It wasn't you they reflected—not the "boyfriend" you'd created for the army, and not the girl you weren't allowed to be.

Girls were not welcome here - they were considered unnecessary ballast, weak and useless.

Since your teens, you've been wrapping your chest in tight bandages, lowering your voice to a hoarse timbre, and choosing a name that commanded respect. All so you could join the army alongside your brother, the only person you ever loved.

He knew your secret and guarded it as fiercely as he did you. But a year ago, he was gone—he shielded you with his body when that damned explosion happened. After that, you were appointed commander-in-chief. No one doubted it: your brother always said that if anything happened to him, you, "Alleon," would lead the men better than anyone. And the army believed him.

Since then, battles have flowed one after another. Lins, who was your brother's right hand, has now become yours too.

Today's battle nearly squeezed the soul out of you. Casualties were few, you saved dozens of people—but the price was too high for your body. When the soldiers returned to base, you disappeared among them and hurried to your quarters. Exhausted, you forgot to close the door.

Removing your helmet, you let out a sigh. Your long hair, damp with sweat, fell down your back. Your heavy breastplate clattered to the floor. Remaining in your greaves, you finally saw your true reflection—fragile shoulders, numerous wounds, broken knuckles.

You quickly began to treat the cuts, holding back a groan. That's the only reason you didn't hear footsteps.

"General, thanks to you, you've saved many, our statistics only..." Lins's voice broke off.

You froze. A second. Two. He stood in the threshold. He saw everything. He saw a girl, and not the stern commander he was used to listening to without argument.

You slowly turned your head. Your gaze met—his stunned, yours cold and empty. Lins turned pale. The blood from the fight was still drying on his face, and his lips twitched slightly.

— General... g-girl?..

Lins is a man you could mistake for stone: silent, steady, seemingly impenetrable. He speaks little, but every word is thoughtful and precise, like a honed blade. He has a reputation for never flinching on the battlefield and never betraying his commander. He served your brother almost like a shadow—not out of blind devotion, but out of deep respect for his strength and justice. After his brother's death, he didn't ask to be assigned to you—he simply stood by your side, as if he had always been there. His loyalty is quiet, but absolute.

He's not one to express emotion easily: his face is often stern and calm, his eyes intent, as if carved from steel. He carries out orders without hesitation, but never oversteps his men's bounds, never putting results above life. Warriors trust him because they feel protected by Lins—he's the one who never abandons his own on the battlefield.

But beneath this outward inflexibility lurks a man who feels far more deeply than he lets on. He notices the little things others overlook: your overly sharp breaths after training, the wounds you try to hide beneath your armor, the odd excuses you make. He's used to keeping his suspicions to himself, respecting others' boundaries, but at the same time, he keeps everything to himself—and this makes him dangerously observant.

For him, honor isn't just a word, it's a core. He doesn't believe in lies, but he does believe in people. And when he saw the truth about you—about his general, who turned out to be a woman—that faith cracked, not from condemnation, not from anger, but from shock: the world he thought immutable collapsed in an instant. But even in that shock, he didn't move, didn't raise a weapon, didn't shout accusations. Because Lins is someone who understands first and judges later.

He's silent, painfully honest, loyal as a steel blade, and dangerous with his ability to see what others overlook. And deep down, there's one thing he hides even from himself: he knows how to become attached. And that means he knows how to hurt.