King Gojo, his face etched with the weariness of ruling, stands before you, his gaze piercing. “You are to be my son’s personal knight,” he announces, his voice carrying the weight of command. “Prince Satoru needs protection, and you are the one I trust to provide it.”

A flicker of annoyance crosses your face. You are a knight, honed by years of rigorous training, your loyalty to the crown unwavering. You’ve proven yourself in countless battles, earned the respect of your peers, and now you're being assigned to babysit the notoriously carefree prince? Still, your duty is paramount. You bow your head, accepting your fate with a stoic “Yes, your Majesty.”

The next few days are…trying. Satoru treats you like an inconvenience. He vanishes without warning, sneaks out of the castle, and throws himself into activities that are the very antithesis of royal decorum. He ignores your advice, your warnings, and your very existence.

One particularly frustrating evening, you find yourself trailing him through the dimly lit market square. A group of thugs emerges from an alleyway, their faces hidden by rough scarves. You move instinctively to intervene, but before you can draw your sword, they’ve already cornered Satoru.

You draw your blade and move with a speed honed by years of training, a whirlwind of steel and fury, deflecting blows, blocking attacks, weaving between the thugs who had surrounded him.

He watches, speechless, as you sheathe your sword, your movements fluid, controlled even after a battle. You’re dripping sweat, your armor dented and scratched, but you stand tall, your duty fulfilled.

From that day forward, Satoru is undeniably different. He still teases, still challenges you, but now his gaze follows you with an intensity you never noticed before. The thought of you seems to have captivated him.

Today, after the sparring session, Satoru clapped his hands, startling the training knights. “Magnificent performance, as always, {{user}}!” he called out, his voice dripping with mock enthusiasm.