In the very next second, Chi Zhan’s arm was twisted behind his back. The attacker seized his wrist and locked it in place with a swift reverse grip. Chi Zhan yanked back hard—twice—but couldn’t break free. The man was clearly no weaker than him. In fact, he might be even stronger.
But Chi Zhan wasn’t the type to surrender easily. Without hesitation, he lifted his knee and aimed a brutal kick toward the man’s most vulnerable spot.
They were both men—he knew exactly where a strike would hurt the most.
Normally, Chi Zhan wouldn’t resort to this kind of move. But first, this was a sneak attack without cause; the man was in the wrong. And second, Chi Zhan despised the feeling of being restrained or overpowered.
But before he could land the blow, a hand as unyielding as an iron shackle clamped down on his ankle.
He hadn’t expected that at all.
Frustrated and furious, Chi Zhan lost his balance and stumbled forward. He was about to hit the floor when, suddenly, everything spun. In a blink, their positions reversed.
His opponent had clearly held back—deliberately using finesse over force. It was like a cat toying with a mouse, subduing and restraining him with practiced ease, without causing any pain or leaving a single bruise.
Chi Zhan didn’t notice any of that. His thoughts were consumed with only one thing—how to win. The adrenaline had gone to his head.
He crashed headfirst into the man’s chest. Dizzy, stars danced before his eyes. It took him a long moment to recover, then he lifted his head and barked angrily, “You—!”
But the moment Chi Zhan looked up and got a clear view of the man’s face, the rest of his words caught in his throat. He froze, speechless.
It couldn’t be…
Shock flooded his expression, eyes widening in disbelief.
The man beneath him—currently serving as his very human cushion—seemed just as surprised by his own instinctive act of protection. Yet oddly, he didn’t seem to regret it.
The floor was too hard. The kid looked too delicate. If he’d fallen, he probably would’ve cried.
“…Your—Your Highness?” Chi Zhan stammered, still lost in a dreamlike haze. He had no idea how taking a quick shower had turned into a collision with the Crown Prince himself. On impulse, he pinched his own thigh hard—
“……”
The Crown Prince’s handsome features twisted slightly.
To be fair, the kid had quite the grip.
***
Why didn’t that hurt…? Was he really dreaming?
Still stunned, Chi Zhan gave his thigh another squeeze—only to realize something was off. The texture beneath his fingers wasn’t the coarse, sturdy fabric of the standard military uniform. It was cool and smooth—luxurious silk.
He’d pinched the wrong person.
Mortified, Chi Zhan withdrew his hand like he’d been burned. A rush of heat surged to his head. He wanted nothing more than to slam his face into a block of tofu or dig a hole and bury himself alive. Yet on the surface, he forced himself to stay composed. Only the tips of his ears turning red and his flickering gaze betrayed his flustered state.
He turned his face away slightly, lips pressing into a line.
“My apologies, Your Highness. I didn’t mean to… offend you. Please forgive my rudeness.”
The Crown Prince found it rather amusing, though he maintained his royal decorum.
“No need to be so tense. This was merely a routine inspection. It seems the Imperial Military Academy’s training regimen is up to standard.”
Chi Zhan blinked, unsure what the prince meant, and responded cautiously. Only then did he glance down—and realize their current position was… wildly inappropriate.
His heart skipped a beat.
That fall, if it had landed as expected, might not have broken any bones, but it would’ve left him out of commission for a while. Instead, he was completely unscathed—because the Crown Prince had taken the full brunt of the impact.
Chi Zhan had practically collapsed onto the man, and after regaining his senses, had used the prince’s chest to push himself up.
Which meant that, at this very moment, he was straddling the Crown Prince’s waist and abdomen, hovering above him as they calmly discussed what had just happened.
This was beyond disrespectful.
Now it wasn’t just his ears—Chi Zhan’s neck flushed red too.
The Crown Prince had already shed his ceremonial uniform, dressed now in only a silk shirt and slacks. One knee was bent, his gaze sweeping across Chi Zhan’s face.
Moments ago, on the assessment stage, this young man had fought like a beast. And now… he looked like a flustered little bunny.
For once, the prince’s usually inscrutable gaze softened slightly. He studied the cadet before him—so different from the schemers and manipulators of court life. What a rare sight… someone so genuinely pure and endearing.
Chi Zhan coughed lightly and carefully tried to stand up.
But before he could, an arm wrapped around his waist and gently pressed him back down. He was caught off guard and fell forward again—thankfully managing to brace himself with a hand on the floor before he committed another “offense” against the Crown Prince.
Not that this was much better.
“…Your Highness?”
Chi Zhan looked up, utterly confused, his expression completely unguarded.
His waist was incredibly slender—easily encircled by a single hand. Beneath the prince’s palm, he radiated a kind of raw, vibrant energy… the kind utterly absent from the stagnant, lifeless royal court.
The Crown Prince spoke lazily, “Just now, your reflexes were sharp. You even held your own against me for a couple moves. So why, during the assessment, were you beaten so badly by that Omega? Was he really stronger than you, or… did you throw the match because you like him?”
As he spoke, he subtly released his pheromones—an invisible field that wrapped around the young cadet like a gentle yet inescapable barrier.
Chi Zhan had never expected the Crown Prince to ask something like that—and the second half of the question was even more outrageous.
Throw the match? Because he liked him?
How did that even make sense?
If someone had scored Chi Zhan’s performance just now, it would’ve easily surpassed what he’d displayed during the official exam.
Lasting more than two moves against the Crown Prince put him ahead of 95% of the empire’s population. The remaining 5% were its top elite.
Though barehanded combat wasn’t often used on the interstellar battlefield, without a strong physique, sharp reflexes, and immense spiritual endurance, one would never return from that vast, deadly frontier.
That was precisely why—despite the enormous risks—only one member of the royal family dared serve as commander-in-chief and step onto the battlefield himself.
