Eighteen months later.
+++++++
"Oh… Yes… Yes… Yesss… Aaaaaaacch!!"
Mila's body arched violently, her thighs clamping around Quint's head as waves of pleasure shook through her like an earthquake. She barely had time to muffle her moans before Quint slid up her body, his face still slick with her release, and captured her lips in a slow, deep kiss.
"Did I do well?" Quint murmured against her lips, his voice low and smooth.
Mila's lidded eyes fluttered open, her breath still uneven. Satisfaction curled across her lips. "You're so good, Brother," she whispered. Then, teasing, "Are you sure you haven't been practicing with another girl?"
Quint narrowed his eyes. "I haven't."
Mila smirked, running her fingers over the sharp lines of his chest. "What about that Andrew girl?"
Quint rolled away from her, scowling. "No one."
Mila giggled at his sulking. She crawled onto his chest, pinning him beneath her, and tilted his face up to meet hers. "Don't be mad," she cooed before pressing a slow, lingering kiss against his lips.
Quint's annoyance faded under her touch. His hands gripped her waist, sliding up her smooth skin. "No one else but you, Sis," he murmured against her mouth.
Mila shook her head, but she let it go, dragging her lips along his jaw. "Your turn," she whispered, shifting lower.
Quint exhaled sharply, his muscles tightening as her mouth drifted over his skin, trailing kisses from his throat to his collarbone, then lower still.
"You don't seem as excited as usual," she murmured, flicking her tongue over his nipple before continuing downward.
Quint sighed, his fingers curling in the sheets. "The competition was boring."
Mila paused, glancing up with a wicked smirk, her breath hot against his stomach. "Just 'boring'?"
Quint sighed again. "A waste of time."
The second he said it, her tongue traced down his length, making his breath hitch.
"Mm… not much of a challenge this year?" she mused, stroking him with deliberate slowness.
Quint barely gritted out a response. "Not at all."
Unlike the previous year, where he had fought to the brink of death, this year's competition had been… dull. His reputation preceded him.
Most of his opponents surrendered without a fight, refusing to face the one who had ripped his last opponent's heart out with his bare hands.
He had only fought in three rounds, including the semifinals and final. And in those, he had used only ten attack moves total. His final score? 690. A record-breaking number.
But the victory was empty.
Mila's warm mouth suddenly engulfed him, sending a shockwave of pleasure through his spine.
Quint's fingers dug into the sheets as a groan slipped from his throat.
Mila chuckled against his length, slowly stroking him with her tongue. "Poor baby," she murmured. "You worked so hard and got nothing out of it."
Quint's breathing grew ragged as she took him deeper.
But then—
His eyes snapped open.
Footsteps.
His senses sharpened instantly.
He grabbed Mila's head, pulling her off him.
Mila blinked in confusion, her lips wet and swollen. "What—?"
"Father's coming!" he hissed.
Mila barely had time to react before Quint rolled off the bed and disappeared underneath it.
A sharp knock rattled the door.
"Mila? Mila?"
The door creaked open, light spilling in.
"Mila, sweetheart? Are you still asleep?"
Mila groaned dramatically, pulling the blanket up to her chin. "I am now."
"Get up, baby. We're leaving for the trip soon," her father said, stepping inside and flipping on the lights.
Mila squinted against the brightness. "Dad! Too bright!"
"You forgot, didn't you?" He chuckled. "We're going camping this weekend."
Mila let out a fake sleepy sigh. "Oh… yeah. Right."
Quint remained deathly still under the bed, his breathing measured, controlled.
Her father turned toward the door, but then hesitated.
"By the way, do you know where your brother is? His room is empty."
Mila shrugged, forcing her voice to remain casual. "I dunno. Maybe he's on his morning run."
"Hmm." Their father nodded. "Tell him to get ready when you see him." And with that, he closed the door behind him.
Quint listened carefully until the footsteps disappeared.
Mila peeked over the edge of the bed, grinning mischievously. "Coast is clear."
Quint crawled out, scowling. "That was close."
Mila giggled, reaching for him. "Let's continue what we've started."
Quint pulled on his pants instead. "Later. We need to get ready."
He then pecked Mila's lips before sneaking out of her room.
-++++++
The camping trip his family had this time was exactly like the kind of camping Quint had seen on television—if not even more luxurious. When they arrived at the designated area, three large tents were already set up for the family: one for his parents, one for his sisters, and one that Quint would share with his master. Each tent was equipped with comfortable sleeping bags, lighting, and even air conditioning. They also had private toilets and showers, ensuring maximum convenience. Not to mention, the location was barely touching the forest, keeping them close to nature but still in a controlled environment.
The reason for their trip was to attend the National Military Friendship Competition—a prestigious friendly competition between all military factions of the country, including the Army, Navy, Marines, Air Force, and other intelligence bureaus and agencies. This year, it was the Army's turn to host, which was why the Rauss family was present—because his father was the one opening the event.
After settling in and resting for a while, the entire family—except for Mr. Rauss—headed toward the competition field, guided by Quint's master.
"Where's Daddy?" Quint's second eldest sister asked, turning to his master.
The man smiled at the girl, then pointed toward a hill around a thousand feet away. "Somewhere in that area," he said.
"What's he doing there? The event is about to start, isn't it?" Quint asked, confused. Wasn't his father the one opening the competition?
"You idiot. Daddy is opening the event," his sister scoffed in a mocking tone.
"Watch your words!" their mother snapped sharply.
His sister pouted at the scolding but didn't say anything else.
Before their mother could continue speaking, the master of ceremonies' voice boomed from the speakers:
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the 32nd National Military Friendly Competition!"
A wave of cheers and applause erupted from the audience.
When the master of ceremonies announced Mr. Rauss' name, the massive LED screen suddenly flickered to life, displaying his father's figure, waving at the camera.
Quint glanced at his mother.
Her face softened instantly—a proud smile forming on her lips, her gaze filled with warmth as she watched her husband on the screen.
Over the years, Quint had come to understand the situation between his parents and his master. He knew about their complicated dynamic. But seeing his mother now, the way she looked at his father with genuine affection, made him realize something.
She really did love him.
Even though she enjoyed being with his master, this moment left no doubt in Quint's mind that his mother's heart belonged to his father.
His gaze shifted back to the screen.
Mr. Rauss had now positioned himself behind a long-range sniper rifle. The rifle was massive, heavy, and coldly precise—a weapon that demanded skill beyond measure.
"On the count of three, Colonel General Rauss will take the shot. General, please give us a sign when you're ready," the announcer called out.
The crowd held its breath.
On the screen, Mr. Rauss calmly raised a single thumb—a simple but confident gesture.
"Alright, let's count down!"
"Three…"
"Two…"
"One…!"
BANG.
The sharp crack of the gunfire echoed across the open field.
The bullet struck the bullseye with pinpoint accuracy.
A metallic clink followed as the impact knocked over a tin can, spilling its contents into a massive iron bowl below.
Then—
BOOM.
A controlled explosion of fire erupted from the bowl, sending a brilliant burst of flames into the air.
The crowd roared with excitement.
Quint watched, entirely captivated.
This was the first time he had truly witnessed his father's skill firsthand.
All these years, he had only heard about how great his father was—from his master, from stories, from reputation. But he had never seen it for himself.
His father was rarely home. And when he was, he kept his demeanor relaxed, easygoing, almost ordinary.
But this—this was the real Colonel General Rauss.
The legendary sniper.
No wonder his master held him in such high regard.
"Still the best sniper this country has," his master murmured, his voice filled with deep admiration.
The stadium erupted with applause and cheers.
The excitement in the air was electric, a perfect start to the competition.
Soon, the competition began. There were several categories, including strength, speed, and teamwork. Each faction competed against the others in a series of games designed to test their abilities.
Unfortunately for Quint, these so-called fun games held little to no excitement for him.
He let out a slow, uncontrollable yawn.
His master glanced at him.
"So... sorry... I just didn't get enough sleep last night," Quint muttered, lowering his head slightly.
His master narrowed his eyes but said nothing.
"Hey, do you wanna come with me to explore the woods, Brother?"
Mila's sudden question caught Quint's attention. She sat beside him, her tone casual, but her eyes sharp with mischief.
It was obvious she wasn't interested in the competition either.
Quint hesitated. He could feel his master's gaze on him.
With barely a tilt of his head, his master gave the subtlest of signals—Stay.
"N... No, I'm staying, Sis..." Quint finally said, though there was clear reluctance in his voice.
His father wanted him to observe the competition carefully, to analyze each faction's strengths and weaknesses. This was not just some friendly gathering for him—it was a lesson in warfare.
"It's dangerous for you to walk in the woods alone," his father suddenly said, his voice carrying authority as he turned toward Mila.
Then, he called over one of his subordinates.
A young man—probably in his early twenties, with a strong build and a sharp, good-looking face—approached them quickly, standing at attention.
"Sergeant, please escort my daughter while she explores the woods," Mr. Rauss ordered.
For a brief second, the young man hesitated, his eyes flickering toward Mila. The tips of his ears turned red.
But then he quickly straightened his back, raising his hand in a sharp salute.
"At your service, Sir!" he declared.
Mila smiled sweetly at the sergeant.
"Thank you, Sergeant," she said softly before reaching for his outstretched hand as he helped her to her feet.
Without another word, she followed the young soldier toward the trees, disappearing from sight.
Quint sat completely still.
His expression remained neutral, unreadable.
But beneath the surface, his fists clenched tight.
-
It was almost 8 PM. Like any ordinary summer evening, the sun still hadn't fully set. The competition for the day had ended, and after dinner, Quint wandered off to a small lake near the forest.
There, he spent his time skipping pebbles across the water, his mind elsewhere.
The sound of approaching footsteps reached his ears. Without needing to look, he already knew who it was.
Still, he pretended not to notice and continued tossing pebbles, watching the ripples spread across the lake's surface.
"There you are. I've been looking for you," Mila's voice broke the silence as she neared him.
Quint smirked, eyes still on the water. "Really? I thought you were busy with the sergeant. I mean... you didn't even come back for dinner," he said in a deliberately indifferent tone.
"We went too deep into the woods, so we were late for dinner," she replied casually.
"Yeah, right," Quint muttered.
Mila shrugged, then bent down to grab a handful of pebbles, throwing them into the lake one by one. For a while, neither of them spoke.
Then, Mila broke the silence. "We still have an hour of free time before we need to head back to our tents," she said, turning toward him. A mischievous glint flickered in her eyes. "I still owe you for earlier."
Quint's gaze snapped to her sharply.
"You have no obligation to please me," he said, his voice steady as he threw another pebble, not even watching where it landed.
"I want to," Mila countered, her voice soft but firm.
Quint let out a heavy sigh. "Well, I don't want to," he said before turning on his heel to leave the lake behind.
"Hey... What's wrong?" Mila quickly caught up and grabbed his elbow, halting him in his tracks.
Quint jerked his arm free. "Just go and satisfy your desires with that sergeant," he snapped, his voice edged with irritation.
Mila's lips curled into a knowing smile. "You're jealous."
Quint exhaled harshly. "Yes." He didn't deny it.
Mila's gaze held his for a long moment. Something unspoken lingered between them. Quint felt an undeniable pull, an urge he couldn't resist.
He closed the distance between them and captured her lips with his. Their kiss was deep, urgent, desperate—their bodies tangled together, rolling against the soft earth beneath them.
"I love you, Mila," Quint whispered against her ear, his breath warm against her skin.
Mila suddenly pulled back, putting space between them.
"Quint... you can't love me," she said, her voice almost a whisper.
"But that's what I feel," he argued, his tone unwavering.
Mila sighed before sitting up beside him, deliberately avoiding his reddened eyes.
"That's what I've always wanted to talk to you about," she admitted, her fingers toying with the grass beneath her. "What we have... We can't put feelings into it."
Quint's jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists.
"Even though we're not biologically related, we're still siblings."
Quint turned his head toward her, his voice laced with quiet hurt. "Then why did you start this in the first place?"
Mila finally looked him in the eyes. "Honestly? Back then, I saw how tense you were, and I wanted to help you release it," she said, her voice filled with sincerity.
Quint said nothing. He felt another crack split through his chest.
"I see."
"But then... I got carried away," Mila admitted. She let out another sigh, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'd be lying if I said I don't have feelings for you... but..."
She reached out, cupping his cheek gently. "We can't be anything other than siblings, Brother."
Quint let her words sink in. His emotions remained unreadable.
"So, what do you suggest?" he finally asked after a long silence.
Mila shrugged slightly. "I genuinely don't want this to end. I enjoy our time together," she admitted. Then, she turned to look at him, her gaze serious. "But if it makes your feelings deepen, maybe we should stop."
Quint exhaled slowly, running his fingers through her long hair before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.
"I'll manage my feelings," he murmured.
Mila's eyes glistened at his words. "Really?" she whispered.
Quint nodded, offering her a small, thin smile.
Their lips met again, their bodies slowly sinking into the thick, wild grass beneath them.
"Just to make it clear," Mila murmured against Quint's chest, trailing a line of kisses downward. "I have no special feelings for that sergeant."
Then, with one swift motion, she ripped open Quint's jeans.
-
The Military Friendship Competition had finally ended. The Rauss family was on their way home.
With Quint's master behind the wheel, his father sat in the front passenger seat.
Quint, his mother, and Mila occupied the middle row, while his second eldest sister sat in the very back.
It was late at night, and the drive was quiet.
His mother and both of his sisters were already asleep—Mila's head resting lightly against his shoulder.
The only sound was the steady hum of the vehicle against the road.
Suddenly, his father spoke, breaking the silence.
"Did you enjoy your time, Son?"
Quint glanced at his master, exchanging a silent look before answering.
"Yeah," he said simply.
There was a brief pause, then Quint turned toward his father.
"Father."
"Yes, Son?"
"Would it be possible for you to teach me how to snipe?"