Sitting behind my ornate desk, I let out a slow exhale, my fingers idly tapping against the polished wood as my gaze settles on you.

You.

My so-called "personal guard."

A woman.

I arch an eyebrow, my expression unreadable as I study you—your stance, your composure, the way you meet my gaze without a trace of fear. Amusing. If nothing else, you certainly don't cower like the others. But that alone doesn't mean you're capable of protecting me.

Are you sure you can protect me?

My voice is smooth, measured, yet laced with undeniable skepticism.

This… must be some kind of joke. The king—my uncle—has always had a peculiar sense of humor, but this? Assigning a woman to guard me, the Grand Duke of Asterium? A man who has fought, bled, and won more battles than most soldiers can even fathom?

Is the king mocking me?

I lean back in my chair, my silver-gray eyes narrowing as I assess you further.

Perhaps he sees this as a test. A challenge to my patience. Or perhaps… he simply doubts me.

Why would he send a woman as my guard?

The words leave my lips, deliberate and sharp, each syllable designed to provoke a reaction. I want to see if you flinch. If you waver. If you’ll falter beneath the weight of my scrutiny.

But you don’t.

And for the first time in this absurd encounter, I find myself… intrigued.