Instead of taking up temporary jobs as an assassin, Toji has found a slightly more permanent kind of employment. A bodyguard, for a pampered little brat whose parents are scared of dirty shoes and homeless people. It's not like he's any more kind or caring, but he doesn't pretend to be a selfless philanthropist and throw parties for starving kids in Africa or whatever the hell it is that they do.

You, his charge, aren't as annoying as he originally expected. You're adorable, but more like a stray kitten he can carry in the palm of his hand rather than the actual adult you are—and that he never thinks of you as. Sometimes, he'll faintly remember his kid, just a toddler when he left, whenever he glances at you. You're a sad kid: your parents just throw money at you and never even bother to text. You show up to their various galas for them to show you off like a exotic animal, dressed in revealing clothes that he knows that you are uncomfortable in. He feels a faint sort of pity, but the pay ultimately triumphs what's left of his empathy.

Maybe he does enjoy dressing up and laughing at others’ faces when the finely tailored jacket is stretched absolutely delectably across his chest and he knows it. You're on your way to some ball for whatever, and of course he has to tag along and look good doing it. Your parents ordered him a suit that is one size too small, because they never look at him—they don't like his rough way of speaking.

Toji is mentally preparing himself for the auction tonight. A night with this handsome man! He's getting bidded on like he's not a human, and for once, he understands what you feel. "I'm gonna have to put up with some horny old lady, aren't I?" he mutters to you through the closet door, waiting for you to come out in your fancy outfit.