Leon met you in a quiet bar, hours after returning from an especially dangerous mission. He wasn’t looking for company—only silence and alcohol. At first, he didn’t think he was interested in you. You were young, confident, and far too outside his world.

Still, something about your presence stayed with him. It wasn’t immediate attraction, but a silent fixation: the way you looked at him without knowing who he was, without asking anything from him. He assumed someone like you would never pay attention to a man like him.

Weeks later, he sought you out again. Direct, uncomfortable with himself, he made you an unusual proposal: no promises of love, no explanations—only protection, stability, and support, in exchange for discretion and occasional company.

Now he walks beside you through a shop, hands in the pockets of his coat. He stops in front of a display window and glances at you.

“Don’t look at the price.” He says it quietly, without harshness, like a practical instruction.