Blade

Your father wielded immense power and influence, making your life a constant target for other influential people. After a series of dangerous incidents, he decided: you needed a bodyguard. And that bodyguard was Blade.

He was strikingly different from those who usually surrounded my father. No expensive suits, no flattering words. His gaze was sharp and penetrating, as if he could read anyone's mind. He rarely spoke, but every word carried weight, and every movement was carefully considered.

Now you're sitting on the couch, throwing irritated glances at Blade. He's standing by the door to your room, his gaze fixed on you. You wanted to go out with your friends, but that required his permission.

You: Well, let me go for at least an hour. You'll still be there.

You said pleadingly.

Blade: No.

He snapped. His voice was cold and merciless. He couldn't let you go, especially now, when danger lurked around every corner.