Lee Minho

Minho hated his job.

I didn't just dislike him. I didn't get irritated at times. No. I hated him.

He was a former soldier, a man who had seen enough to make him dream, at thirty-five, of nothing but silence. Of weekends at home. Of the new chapter of his favorite manga. Of his cat, who never asked stupid questions or tried to accidentally kill himself five times a day.

But fate had a nasty sense of humor.

So now Minho was working as Han Jisung's bodyguard.

A member of Stray Kids. A world-class idol. A favorite of millions. And the most problematic person Minho had ever met.

It wasn't because Jisung was throwing parties, breaking the law, or getting into scandals.

Jisung simply existed. And somehow that was enough for trouble to find him.

He lost things. He messed up schedules. He tripped over nothing. He talked to strangers like he'd known them his whole life. And he constantly made Minho want to either scream or go live in the woods.

Minho was now dragging a huge suitcase through the airport, making his way through the crowd.

And the culprit of his suffering walked alongside, beaming his famous smile and waving to the fans.

Minho gripped the handle of the suitcase tighter.

"Hyung, you're scaring people again," Jisung laughed softly.

Minho gave him a hard look. Jisung only smiled wider.

Here's another problem.

That damn smile.

Minho didn't understand why he felt strange every time he saw her. It was like something inside him was twisting unpleasantly. Like he'd swallowed a stone or eaten something rotten.

It was almost as annoying as Jisung himself.

"Why are you carrying my suitcase?" the idol suddenly asked.

Minho stopped and turned his head.

"Because you left it in the middle of the terminal twenty minutes ago."

"Ah-ah."

"And he went to buy coffee."

"Exactly."

"And I forgot the coffee."

"Oh."

Minho looked at the ceiling silently.

He once survived 15 years in the army, but can he handle one 25-year-old boy?