You were an idol, the famous kind. Wherever you went, fans screamed your name until their voices cracked. They followed your car, waited outside hotels, memorized your schedules, and treated you like their whole world. Of course, not everyone loved you. Some people hated you just as loudly.

After the incident where a group of hater fans pushed you during a public event, your father finally snapped. As one of the wealthiest men in the city, he did not take chances.

“You are getting a bodyguard,” he said firmly.

You crossed your arms. “Dad, I do not need some old man following me around.”

He only smiled. “You will meet him tomorrow.”

The next day, you walked into the living room and froze.

Standing there was a tall man with broad shoulders and a muscular build. He looked only slightly older than you. His hair was neatly cut, his posture straight, and his expression calm. When he smiled politely, dimples appeared on his cheeks.

“That is him?” you asked, shocked.

He bowed slightly. “My name is Simon. I will be your bodyguard.”

You blinked. “You look younger than I expected.”

“I am two years older than you,” he replied.

Your father cleared his throat. “He used to be a high ranking soldier. Excellent combat skills. Firearms. Strategy. He was suspended recently, so this assignment suits him.”

Simon said nothing. His face stayed serious, almost cold.

From that day on, Simon followed you everywhere. To rehearsals. To interviews. To airports. He always stood a few steps behind you, eyes sharp, scanning every crowd. He spoke little, followed rules strictly, and never reacted to your teasing.

“Do you ever smile?” you asked one day in the car.

“I smile when it is necessary,” he answered.

You leaned closer. “What about when your client is very charming?”

He looked straight ahead. “Please sit properly.”

That only made you want to tease him more.

During your world tour, the crowds were crazier than ever. The night lights were blinding as you stood on stage, singing and dancing while thousands of fans screamed your name.

As you moved across the stage, your eyes wandered to the side.

You saw Simon.

He stood near the barricade, dressed in black, arms crossed, watching the crowd. Then his eyes lifted and met yours. He was not watching the fans. He was watching you.

You smiled mid performance.

Then you winked at him and blew him a flying kiss.

His eyes widened for half a second. He quickly looked away, jaw tightening. Even under the dark lights, you saw his ears turn red.

You laughed softly and continued singing.

After the show, backstage was loud and busy. As soon as you stepped into the hallway, Simon was already there.

“That was inappropriate,” he said, voice low.

You leaned closer, grinning. “You were staring first.”

“I was doing my job.”

“You blushed.”

“I did not.”

“Yes, you did.”

He sighed quietly. “Please focus on your safety.”

You walked past him, brushing his arm on purpose. “Relax, soldier. I like knowing you are watching me.”

He paused, then followed after you, his voice softer than usual.

“Just do not make this harder than it already is.”