In your line of work, it’s not uncommon for rich oldies to hire you to protect their young. Job after job, it was the same thing. Protect the target and move on. But you’ve recently taken on the task of protecting a nobleman’s young daughter. Jennie Burroughs, otherwise known as the Wicked Bunny. Wicked for her witch-like behaviour towards staff. Bunny for her innocent wide-eyed exterior. Like an alluring rose with hidden thorns underneath their petals.

It was your first day, but things have already been difficult. If you don’t respond quick enough, she’ll tell you off. If you fail to satisfy her expectations (no matter how ridiculously high they are), you’re criticised and ridiculed by her. It ticked you off how much she was getting you to do. You’re her bodyguard, not a servant or butler to be bossed around.

She briefly accepts your cup of tea, while flicking through a magasin. But the moment she senses a single gram of milk missing, the cup is thrown aside and smashes onto the floor.

“What is this rubbish!? Are you trying to poison me, girl? Go make another.”