The hum of the plane's engines filled the cabin as recruits filed in, each searching for a seat. Seraphina strolled down the aisle, her sharp green eyes scanning for an open spot. She spotted one near the window and made her way toward it—only to find a bag tossed carelessly onto the seat, a clear attempt to claim territory.
A voice rang out, smug and self-satisfied. "Remember me?"
Seraphina barely spared the girl a glance, tilting her head slightly. "Who?"
Kiana Wren's face twitched, her lips pressing into a thin line. Nearby recruits snickered, amusement spreading through the cabin.
Mia appeared beside Seraphina, adjusting her glasses with a smirk. "Ohhh, awkward. Imagine getting your face rearranged so badly your opponent doesn't even remember you. That's tragic."
More laughter followed, and Kiana's embarrassment morphed into frustration. Her fingers curled into fists as she snapped, "This seat's mine."
Mia shot her an exaggerated grin. "Oh, it's yours? That's funny. I didn't realize planes operated on 'first throw-your-trash-here' rules. Must be a fancy privilege thing."
The recruits nearby snickered again, fueling Kiana's anger. Her jaw tightened as she growled, "At least I don't need my sidekick to fight my battles."
Seraphina's smirk widened, emerald eyes gleaming with mischief. She stepped closer, her voice low and dangerous. "And yet, you're still standing here, hoping your attitude will save you from another round. Tell me—does losing twice sound like fun?"
The laughter around them grew louder, the recruits quickly catching onto Seraphina's sharp tongue and relentless demeanor. Kiana's face flushed deeper, her fists clenching at her sides.
And then, without warning, she lunged.
She swung wildly at Mia, but before the punch could land, Seraphina's hand shot out, effortlessly catching Kiana's wrist mid-air.
The cabin fell into a hush. The tension crackled between them like static before a storm.
Seraphina tightened her grip slightly, leaning in, her voice smooth as silk and twice as sharp. "You really don't learn, do you?"
She was about to retaliate when a firm voice sliced through the air.
"Enough."
William Carls stood near the front, arms folded, his sharp gaze sweeping over the recruits with quiet authority. His mere presence straightened every spine in the cabin.
"Everyone, back to your seats," he ordered, his tone clipped.
Kiana yanked her arm free, grabbing her bag with stiff movements, muttering curses under her breath as she stormed toward another seat, her humiliation thick in the air.
Two rows behind, Arthur Monroe chuckled, nudging Cathleen Lansor. "Hoho, now that was entertainment."
Cathleen didn't respond right away. Her gaze rested on Seraphina, watching as she casually helped Mia stow her bag in the overhead compartment. As if sensing the weight of the stare, Seraphina turned her head slightly, locking eyes with Cathleen.
A brief silence stretched between them. A silent recognition. A test of wills.
Seraphina gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.
Cathleen returned the greeting, but there was something unreadable in her expression—something tense, something inevitable.
As Seraphina finally took her seat,
Mia plopped down beside her with a grin. "Alright, since we've got time, let me introduce you to the 'Big Five.'"
She gestured toward the two behind them. "You've already met these two—2nd place, Cathleen Lansor, and 3rd place, Arthur Monroe. Both come from the top five military families."
Seraphina raised a brow, unimpressed. "And?"
Mia smirked, counting off on her fingers. "First-ranked is Valmont. Second is Sinclair—though, well, there hasn't been a soldier from their side of the family in over a decade." Sera's eyes darkened a little but Mia didn't notice that she continued "Third is Lansor, fourth is Monroe, and fifth is Rainfield—which is my family."
She waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, and that idiot earlier? She's from the Wren family, ranked tenth. Her name, uh… what was it again? Oh! Kiana Wren."
Seraphina exhaled sharply, rubbing her temple. "That's enough. I don't care about rankings." Her voice dipped into dry irritation as she muttered, "Because thanks to someone, I was busy surviving in a jungle in the middle of the night instead of memorizing this nonsense I will prefer to sleep."
In the Sinclair Mansion
Far away, at the grand Sinclair estate, General Darcon Sinclair sat at the dining table, stirring his tea when a sudden sneeze escaped him.
Grace, seated across from him, frowned. "Grandpa, did you catch a cold?"
Darcon shook his head, smirking. "No, no. I'm fine." He leaned back with a knowing chuckle, tapping his cane against the polished floor.
"I think my dear granddaughter must be missing me."
Grace sighs and says, " I don't know how she is doing".
"Hahaha! She'll do just fine. That girl is a Sinclair, after all."
A hearty laugh echoed through the mansion.