When my classmates asked what had happened, I brushed it off vaguely as “something came up,” then changed clothes with them.
I hurried through changing, careful not to expose the mark on my abdomen, and shook out my hair.
The exam would last the entire day.
Morning: airdrop and climbing.
Afternoon: shooting and basic physical evaluation, ending with open-water swimming.
They said that when the weather turned bad, the airdrop was sometimes delayed, but fortunately, today conditions were clear enough for the helicopter to fly.
Good.
I couldn’t have endured another two days of this.
I stepped out of the tent with my classmates.
The view opened wide before us.
And I saw something hovering in the sky.
“What’s that?”
“Hm?”
When I pointed, the others looked up as well.
It was Tom who answered, his tone uncertain.
“A broadcast drone. The promotion exam’s being livestreamed, you know—back to HQ.”
“What?”
“Some seniors said they’d be watching.”
“What did you just say?”
What the hell?
I stared at them blankly with my mouth open.
But Hesh and Tom already seemed to know all about it.
Choi Yun.
Of course, he hadn’t told me about this either.
If I confronted him, he’d probably just say, “Would knowing have changed anything?”
He was an efficient instructor, which made him both a good mentor—and a terrible one.
What’s he even doing right now?
Anyway, I wanted to know more about the broadcast—where it was being shown, who the audience was.
But my classmates didn’t explain further.
Instead, they gave me a long look.
“You look awful, man.”
That was Hesh, raising a brow.
I gave an awkward laugh.
“Just nerves.”
“You? Nervous?”
“I didn’t know this thing was being broadcast live to HQ.”
“You don’t get nervous over stuff like this.”
Tom looked genuinely puzzled.
“You don’t even have nerves.”
I do.
Especially around my mentor.
How did that image even form?
I protested weakly, but it didn’t stick. Hesh nodded as if agreeing with Tom.
Both of them narrowed their eyes, watching me closely.
I turned my head and changed the subject.
“There, see those people in red caps?”
Swallowing back the ache, I started walking.
“Let’s go. Let’s all pass safely.”
“Even your walk looks weird.”
“There are a bunch of drones.”
I kept my gaze fixed on the drones, pretending not to notice their stares.
The scent of the sea brushed my nose. Despite the coming test, it felt good to be out of that suffocating tent.
I had to keep my head clear until the exam was over.
Ignoring the sharp looks from my classmates, I muttered,
“Who even watches stuff like this?”
***
Shu entered the media room cheerfully.
Today, the room was packed. Normally, you’d be lucky to find a single person here, but now it was filled to the brim. Every good seat was taken, so she wandered around with a bag of salt-and-vinegar chips and a can of zero cola, looking for a place to sit.
Groups of Badgers gathered in clusters, waiting for the exam to start.
Among them, she spotted Ami’s head poking up.
Shu walked over to her.
“Senior. You came to watch too, huh?”
“Yeah.”
Ami smiled brightly.
“It’s fun watching the chicks on screen.”
“Are there always this many people? When my test aired, I heard barely anyone watched it, so I was relieved.”
“No, this is weirdly crowded.”
Ami tilted her head as she looked at the packed crowd of Badgers.
“Last year and the year before, almost no one came.”
Shu sat beside her, in an aisle seat, and tore open her bag of chips.
The sharp tang of the snack wafted through the air. She pulled out the folding tray from the armrest and rolled her bright blue eyes.
“Senior Richard brought a whole bunch of his favorite juniors again.”
“Yeah. Richard never misses this stuff.”
They both glanced toward the front row.
That group sitting up front—Richard and the ones who followed him.
People quietly called them the Richard Line. Mostly massive men built like tanks, obsessed with gym training and equally passionate about training rookies.
They always occupied the same corner of the HQ gym, held frequent dinners, and built their own little brotherhood.
Some people had even complained, “Isn’t that just a private club?”
Commander Yehyeon didn’t seem to care.
“Even if someone passes, if Richard’s not satisfied, he’ll still say something, right?”
“There’s no one who satisfies Richard.”
Ami laughed.
She accepted a chip Shu offered and crunched it between her teeth.
“Don’t worry. It wasn’t just you.”
“I feel bad for the juniors.”
Ami burst into laughter again.
They both fell silent, watching the feed from the drone showing the rookies.
Three men walked toward the instructor after changing into their uniforms.
Ami was idly watching their heads when she suddenly spotted someone walking past the aisle—and her eyes went wide.
“Ric!”
Ricardo stopped.
The tall man turned his head, spotted the small Badgers looking up at him, and smiled lazily. His dark green eyes curved like crescents.
With his usual unhurried swagger, he came closer.
“Ami~...”
“Ric, this is the first time I’ve seen you come to watch this.”
Ami blinked at the man leaning over the back of Shu’s seat.
“You always say there’s no point in watching chicks flail around.”
“Ah~... I had some free time today~...”
“Hello, senior.”
Shu greeted politely.
Ricardo waved his hand lazily.
“Hey there~. Came to watch your first batch of juniors, huh~?”
“Yes.”
“Your name was... Diamond, right~?”
“Yes. Shu Diamond.”
“Sit here, Ric.”
Ami patted the seat beside her.
Then suddenly leaned forward to check around.
“Or were you sitting with someone else? Kudo’s not coming, is he?”
“That bastard wouldn’t come to something like this.”
Ricardo snorted, then slipped past Shu to sit beside Ami.
He slouched comfortably into the seatback.
His green gaze shot toward the screen. The rookies were now listening to the instructor explaining the airdrop procedure. The footage showed them all standing at attention in uniform.
The seniors watching began chatting, tossing out comments.
“They’ll all pass.”
“You never know. But at least the weather’s calm today.”
“Man, they’ve got it easy! Back in my day, the wind was so bad we couldn’t even lift a balloon, let alone a chopper!”
“That white-haired one really stands out.”
“Yeah, he’s good-looking. Is that hair dyed?”
“Surprisingly, no. It’s natural.”
“Huh? So it’s just premature gray?”
“Ami.”
At the voice behind her, Ami whipped her head around.
It wasn’t hard to see who had called her name.
Standing behind her seat was a woman she hadn’t expected.
Ami’s eyes widened for the second time since entering the media room.
“Sylvia!”
She looked even more shocked than when she’d seen Ricardo.
“You came to watch the exam?”
“Yes.”
As the pale woman bowed her head, her silver hair slid forward.
Beneath her neat see-through bangs, her blue eyes glimmered strangely.
“Hildebert’s taking the exam today, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“Hello, senior.”
“You actually remember your juniors’ names~?”
Ricardo turned his head slightly toward the icy woman.
“I thought you barely remembered your seniors’ names.”
Sylvia didn’t reply.
She only thanked Ami quietly and sat down behind her.
Ignoring Ricardo’s jab and Shu’s polite greeting, her pale blue eyes fixed on the screen.
Locked on the white-haired rookie—unblinking.
Ami studied her for a while, then turned back around.
“Why does Hilde attract all the weird ones?”
She muttered something that would’ve made Hilde bury his face in his hands if he’d heard it.
“Is it because of him that there’s such a crowd today?”
“I heard some people came to see Tom and Hesh too.”
Shu spoke while holding out her blue snack bag toward Ricardo.
He waved off the offer with a lazy grin, and Ami cracked open her second can of soda.
“Apparently Tom once defied Senior Dawson’s order to let a dog die. Word spread that he’s got a strong backbone despite his mild look.
And Hesh was already famous since his dad’s a military general—but after that huge fight with Zhouard, his name got even bigger. Unfortunately, not in a good way.”
“Ah. I was worried Hesh might’ve gotten a bad reputation. He’s hot-tempered but actually a good kid.”
“Yeah. He’s really kind.”
Shu nodded, looking ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) down at her blue bag of chips.
The chatter in the room gradually died down. Most people had taken their seats by now. The exam was about to begin. On screen, the rookies were stretching to the instructor’s whistle. Beep-beep-beep. Beep-beep, beep-beep.
The seniors watched with amusement.
Shu looked down at her snack again, listening to the background hum of voices, then murmured quietly,
“They’ll all do fine, right?”
There was a faint trace of worry in her tone.
“I just want them to pass safely, so we can all relax and hang out sometime.”
“They’ll be fine! They’re all strong!”
Ami gave her a bright smile.
She tilted her head, looking at the younger girl fondly.
“Do you hang out with the rookies often? What do you do together?”
Shu looked up.
Ami smiling warmly.
Ricardo offering a half-interested glance of courtesy.
She answered without much thought.
“Last time, I went to buy an indie game where the main character’s name was Hildebert Taleb.”
Both seniors blinked, puzzled.
Neither Ricardo nor Ami understood what she meant.
Ami opened her mouth to ask What’s that supposed to mean? when someone suddenly shouted:
“The mentors are here!”
The media room doors opened.
Through them walked Yun, Carl, and Angela—one after another.
Applause burst instantly.
The room filled with whistles as people greeted the arriving mentors.
“Welcome back, sirs!”
“Thank you for your hard work!”
“Now that it’s out of your hands, just sit back and enjoy the show!”
“That’s odd.”
Ami tilted her head, watching the three take the center seats in the third row, where the view was best.
“Why does my brother look so pissed?”
The mentors sat quickly.
Three Badgers with unwavering eyes fixed on the screen.
People tried striking up conversation with them, but none replied. They simply sat, silent, gazes locked forward.
More precisely—Angela and Carl’s eyes held concern, faith, and affection.
Yun’s eyes burned with anger, irritation, and possessiveness.
It was not affection.
But it was anything but indifference.
The moment Choi Yun glared at the screen, filled with that infuriating emotion—
the exam began.
