"Are you sure about this?"

Jimin and I stood in front a tall, ugly concrete monstrosity that served as one of the training centers of the North Camp, one of the main militant training camps in the entire country.

The Outworlder before me was dressed in all black, the clothing annunciated the lean muscles of his body and offset his silver hair and Marks. He'd told me it was the standard trainer's uniform. I called it (to myself of course lest I gave horny banana morpher any ideas) the "sexy daddy" uniform.

"I'm sure," I replied firmly. "I thought you were fine with it."

Jimin hesitated. "It's just...what I have to be... I have to be a trainer the moment I step into that training room. As a trainer, it's my job to put those recruits in their place. I have to break them into discipline, even if it means having to break them. And...I don't know if I'm ready to let you see that side of me."

The reproach I'd been feeling at him questioning my want to learn how to defend myself softened. I reached out and briefly touched his arm gently. "Please don't feel the need to hide yourself from me, Jimin. I want to get to know you, every part of you that has made you the person you are today."

He smiled a little. "Thanks partner," he murmured. A more coy look lit in his eyes. "After all, I just remembered.... You said something quite interesting to me over the phone the other day—"

I quickly removed my hand from his arm. I'd nearly forgotten that I'd accidentally dropped the L-word on him and I was in no mood to confront it now. "Let's head inside shall we?" I chirped, grabbing the door and yanking on it with all my might.

It didn't budge.

Now Jimin's eyes were truly amused and his Marks blazed with delight. "It's a push door Jiyeon. That's why it says 'PUSH' in bold." He pointed at the large letters printed on the door.

I flushed and shoved my way inside. I immediately halted.

Jimin stepped inside after me. "This center is for building endurance and physical strength," he told me, noting my round eyes. "New recruits start their training here. If you were to join the training classes, this is where you'd begin as well."

We were standing at the beginning of a wide hallway. On either side were ceiling to floor glass that revealed the training rooms. Every training room looked like a basketball court with unlined hardwood floor and blank white walls. Each room was occupied with people running, working out, or some form of exercise or another. It was easy to decipher the trainees, with their gray jumpsuits, and the stern looking trainers who monitored the activities.

I swallowed hard, noting that every trainee was red in the face and sweat poured off their skin. I liked to think myself pretty strong, but just looking at the flushed faces and shaking limbs as the trainees pushed to their limit was causing me second guesses on my own physical capabilities.

"This way." Jimin lead me down the hallway. "Today I'm going to be working with second day recruits for about an hour of intense work. Stand somewhere out of the way and watch everything."

Intense work. I didn't think exercise could get any more intense than what I'd just seen some of the trainees going through.

"Are you ready, Jiyeon?" His hand brushed mine as we stopped in front of a training room.

I could see the trainees in their gray uniform already milling around in the training room, stretching and preparing themselves. I met his gaze and nodded.

Jimin's eyes fluttered shut for a split moment. When they opened my heart squeezed a little as the familiar warmth I was used to seeing in his gaze was gone. Just like that. An impassive look settled across his features, turning the mischievous and sultry features into a cold block of ice.

So this was what he meant as him shifting into trainer mode. If I'd first met him when he was wearing this expression I would've been scared witless.  

Jimin pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The moment the trainees saw him they all straightened. Their expressions ranged from anticipation to wariness to full on fear.

I related most with the ones that were scared. And I wasn't even a trainee.

"Line up."

Even his voice had lost all warmth in it. It was now a razor sharp thing that sliced through the air and gave no room for any questions.

The recruits immediately shuffled around, lining up quickly. There looked to be around twenty of them. My mouth dried as I realized the ages ranged from around my age all the way down to a frightened looking boy who couldn't have been more than thirteen years old. Dark curly hair, large hazel eyes, his face still possessing some baby fat.

What the heck? What was a boy so young doing here??

I quietly took my place at the far wall, watching everything with fascinated apprehension. Silence draped across the air as Jimin walked up and down the line, taking in every recruit and sizing them up.

The recruits were a good mix of both girls and boys, humans and Outworlders. I realized that on every trainee's gray uniform was a large number printed on the front; a way to identify them. My eyes flickered back to the little boy who had stiffened when Jimin walked past him. The boy was number 5.

The silver Outworlder didn't bat an eye at the thirteen year old, taking in the boy with the same cold calculated gaze before moving on.

I swallowed hard. This was going to be harder than I thought.

Jimin finally called out for the recruiters to start a warm up jog running from one wall to the other for several reps. No introductions, no instruction. Just commands.

He walked across the hardwood floor of the large training room, watching on. He didn't speak except to bite out the next exercise to execute. Rep after rep. Burpees, then mountain climbers, then jump squats, then high knees... on and on. No rest.

My very muscles ached just watching as the sound of panting echoed off the walls as the trainees pushed on.

Then the criticism came.

"Number 5!" Jimin yelled and I almost flinched. His voice was frozen, merciless, with no compassion or feeling. "Pick up the pace!"

5. My mouth dried. It was the little boy. Oh no. No. No.

Everyone had been working close to thirty, maybe forty minutes, nonstop. They were all currently doing push ups and the thirteen year old was falling behind. Even from this far I could see his arms shaking.

The kid was obviously trying his hardest to obey Jimin. But his arms gave up and his body crashed to the ground.

"Get up."

I gaped as Jimin strode over to the collapsed boy and nudged the child hard on the shoulder with his shoe. The other trainees pointedly ignored the scene. The boy gave a small cry when Jimin poked him on the shoulder again, harder.

"I said get up!" Jimin snapped.

The child, number 5, released a small sob, tears rolling down his cheeks and intermingling with his sweat.

Jimin reached down, grabbing the boy's shirt—

"No!"

For a moment everyone halted, surprise crossing across all the trainee's faces. I hadn't realized the word had been building up in my chest and now it was out before I'd been able to stop it.

Jimin looked up. For the first time I felt a small trickle of fear in me at the ruthless look he fired at me. In that moment I saw how he and General Konu were related. He whipped around to glare at the other trainees.

"Did I give permission to stop?"

Immediately the trainees looked down and resumed push ups. The boy was still crouched on the ground, sobbing silently.

"You."

My blood chilled when Jimin shifted his frigid eyes back on me. Not my name. Just 'you'.

"You're dismissed from the room."

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