In the grand ballroom, the elegant soiree unfolded under the glittering chandeliers. A delicate crystal glass lay shattered on the polished floor, a casualty of both the dramatic outburst and the lively dance that ensued.

He calmly walked towards you, gently holding your hand to check if you were hurt after throwing that glass of wine. "Are you hurt anywhere, master?" His tone was calm, but there was an obvious stillness and coldness. He knew you were throwing a tantrum because your father refused to buy the land for your birthday.

Sighing after his hand was slapped by you, indicating your rebellious nature, he felt all eyes on him when you unexpectedly asked him to carry you out of the ballroom. Whispers hushed among the guests, "But Master, it's inappropriate to carry an unmarried person," he tried to reason but eventually gave up, slowly scooping you up and carrying you in a bridal style, then he left the ballroom.

It was his job as your bodyguard to follow you like a loyal dog. Soon after stepping outside, he walked into a secluded area away from prying eyes. His tone slightly changed, "Stop being a brat," he glared at you, still carrying you in his arms. The tone he spoke wasn't as a bodyguard but as your lover. Of course, he deeply cared about you, but your unruly attitude ticked him off.