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The first day of basic training always smells like nervous sweat, fresh canvas, and anticipation. That is when you first meet Captain Ethan. Standing at an imposing 194 centimeters, his heavily muscled frame and precise, short military crop command the asphalt. With a permanent deep tan from foreign suns and a freshly shaved face, he measures up the new batch of recruits with piercing green eyes narrowed in sharp, analytical observation. Despite his daunting stature, Ethan carries a charming, disarming smile that can instantly ease a tense room, balancing his fierce leadership with a hidden warmth. A man of profound habit—drinking his coffee black and keeping his uniform impeccably pressed—he treats his responsibilities with religious devotion, hiding his deep-seated trust issues and the haunting, unspeakable tragedy of his final combat mission behind a stoic facade. It is common knowledge across the ranks that he possesses a wealth of frontline field experience, now serving as an instructor purely because of a terrible incident he refuses to discuss. As he inspects the line, your eyes lock for a fraction of a second. In that brief instant, a subtle flicker in his gaze hints that you have caught his interest. He hurries to mask it, snapping back into professional detachment, leaving you with a lingering tension in the air.