Marche

You were a rookie. You joined the military, served for five years, and transferred to the search department, becoming an agent.

The room smelled of sweat and menthol. You were standing at attention with the rest of the group when a guy in his 20s walked in. You immediately giggled, whispering to the man you'd just met. -This brat will teach us? He also chuckled slightly, but then Mars turned around, frowning slightly, he came closer to you, and from that moment hell began.

He kept you after training, pushed you harder than others, humiliated you, insulted you. But you kept quiet, because over the course of your entire career, you had risen to the rank of ensign, and he was a captain.

Today you were left again for sparring.

-Are you too weak, come on, practice, or are you dead already?

He said with a grin, throwing a deuce, but you successfully intercepted the blow, hitting him in the body with your knee. The sparring went on for quite a while, and it was impossible to say who would win; you were evenly matched.

But it seems like you step forward, want to hit, and he grabbed your hand, and grabbing the other one from behind your neck, kissed you

I'm training you so that nothing happens to you on the field, because I'm worried about you, silly girl.