"What?! Why are you looking at me like that—like the judgmental queen you are?!" Zen nearly shot up from his seat when he caught Hera’s scrutinizing gaze. She didn’t even bother replying—just shook her head with a sigh, as if she were utterly done with him.


    Zen felt like his pride had just been stomped on. Here he was, trying to act like her dependable older brother, and yet she looked at him as if he were a hopeless case.


    It stung—like a p to the ego. He wanted to argue, to defend himself... but the more he thought about it, the more he realized he didn’t have a single leg to stand on.


    "I <i>am</i> really from a military family, you know," Zen said with a sigh. "But I couldn’t stand the stiff, stoic, nd environment. So I ran away from home and started my own career in the entertainment industry."


    Heughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "My grandpa nearly crippled me when I dyed my hair. He actually tried to shave me bald. I was so terrified I moved into the dorms and didn’t go home for months."


    Zen paused for a moment before continuing, "Thankfully, I’ve got an older brother who stepped up and took on the family tradition—he’s the golden son who carried the mantle from my dad and grandpa."


    He gave a little shiver, as if remembering something truly traumatic. "Just thinking about Grandpa gives me goosebumps. The man looks like a tiger—always ring like the world owes him money. He barely ever smiles, and when he’s mad, he cusses like a sailor. Calls us ’maggots,’ ’too girly,’ or says we’ve got no backbone. Real charming, right?"


    Even if Zen didn’t pass out from exhaustion during his grandfather’s brutal training, he might’ve copsed from sheer frustration at being constantly insulted and humiliated.


    Who in their right mind would want to stay in that kind of environment? Just talking about it now, he looked at Hera with an aggrieved expression, like he’d been deeply wronged.


    Still, Zen had to admit—those years of training weren’t entirely wasted. Thanks to his grandfather’s relentless drills from childhood until he ran away, he could now perform all his own stunts in action movies without a stand-in.


    Every fight scene he did on screen was real, choreographed and executed by him. If only he weren’t soid-back andzy, he might’ve already be a rising star in the industry.


    That background was also why he was chosen to star alongside Hera and Xavier in their uing film—both of whom had martial arts foundations. The director demanded realism, insisting that the actors perform their own fight scenes for dynamic close-up shots, aiming to bring authenticity and intensity to the screen.


    He had high hopes for the movie and wasn’t pulling any punches—literally or figuratively—because he was gunning for an award.


    "Hm, now that you mention it... You said you’re Grandpa Victor Ainsley’s grandson, right?" Hera asked, rubbing her chin thoughtfully as she looked up at Zen.


    Zen nodded. "Yeah, why?"


    "I’m just curious," she said casually. "Isn’t your grandfather a retired military general? Does he still have active contact with the military? What about your dad? And does your brother hold a high rank?"


    The sudden string of questions made Zen blink in confusion. He couldn’t tell what she was getting at, so he tilted his head and asked, "Why do you wanna know?"


    "Well, it just so happens that I’m quite close to Young Minister Dave, right?" Hera said with a subtle smile. "And it also just so happens that he’s been cracking down hard on the drug cartelstely. Word is, he’s preparing to move on to the mafia syndicates too. They’ve been getting bolder—moneyundering, human trafficking, organ trade—you name it."


    She leaned back slightly, her voice calm but edged with intent. "Thing is, while he needs all the help he can get, deploying the full military would cause public panic and tip off the mafia. If they feel cornered, they might start taking hostages or retaliating openly without care for civilian lives."


    Her eyes glinted as she added, "So, maybe... just maybe, your grandfather, your father, and your brother—who all happen to have influence in the military—might want to offer some quiet, covert support."


    Zen raised an eyebrow, a smirk ying on his lips as he caught on, his gaze sharpening with amusement and curiosity. Hera didn’t flinch under his stare. Instead, she calmly lifted her ss, took a slow sip of her juice, and smiled back like she’d said nothing unusual at all.


    The two shared a brief, knowing smile before Zen spoke up. "You’ve already met my grandfather, right? He’s actually quite fond of you—your courage especially. So, if you ask him for help, he might juste running without even being asked. As for his military position, securing covert support wouldn’t be a big deal at all. In fact, it would only serve to benefit the country."


    He paused, a yful grin spreading across his face. "I’m sure he’d be more than happy to offer his support. He might even praise you to the heavens."