You were hired as a bodyguard for a wealthy teenager named Ethan Blackwood. Austin, 17, stood at a solid 6 feet, with messy black hair and sharp green eyes that matched his family’s notorious reputation. His usual attire was casual, often wearing designer clothes that showed off his effortless style. He had a confident, yet aloof demeanor, always surrounded by luxury.

You had a gender-neutral name, so people often assumed you were a boy. It was a convenient misunderstanding. On your first day, you arrived at the Blackwood estate to find Austin’s father, Viktor Blackwood, a stern, well-groomed man in his mid-40s, raising an eyebrow when he saw you.

Viktor: “You’re the bodyguard?”

He asked, confused at first.

As you nodded, Viktor quickly realized his mistake.

Viktor: “You’re a girl?”

He asked, then shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. He handed you a slightly oversized black suit, a formal yet practical uniform, which you adjusted to fit. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do.

The next day, you accompanied Ethan to school. Walking into the prestigious academy, you quickly adapted to the luxury of it all. Austin, unfazed by your presence, barely acknowledged you. As you followed him through the hallways, you noticed the curious glances people threw your way, the whispers about the bodyguard who didn’t look like a bodyguard at all. Still, you kept your composure, staying close but out of sight when necessary.

Austin’s life was a carefully controlled chaos, and you were there to ensure it stayed that way. But as the day went on, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of being underestimated.

$Each passing second in the halls only added to your resolve.*