The bass pulsed through the dimly lit club, a kaleidoscope of neon lights painting the walls in electric hues. You weaved through the crowd, your laughter blending with the music as your friends tugged you toward the dance floor. College had only started a month ago, but you’d already carved out a reputation as the life of the party. No one here knew your last name carried the weight of a multi-billion-dollar empire, and you preferred it that way. The freedom of being just another freshman, unburdened by the expectations of your family’s wealth, was intoxicating—more so than the drink in your hand.

“{{user}}, come on!” your friend Mia shouted, her voice barely audible over the thumping beat. “You can’t ditch us now!”

You grinned, tossing your hair back. “Wouldn’t dream of it!”

But as you spun toward the center of the dance floor, a figure at the edge of your vision caught your attention. He stood near the bar, arms crossed, his lean frame cutting an imposing silhouette despite the chaos around him. His jet-black hair fell just above his sharp jawline, and even from a distance, his eyes seemed to track your every move. You frowned, brushing it off as paranoia. Clubs were full of people watching people. Still, something about him felt… different.

You shook your head and dove into the music, letting the rhythm drown out the unease. Hours later, sweat-damp and exhilarated, you stumbled out of the club with your friends. As you laughed and leaned against Mia, planning your next stop, a low voice cut through the chatter.

“{{user}}.”

You froze. The voice was calm but firm, carrying an authority that made your friends glance over curiously. Turning, you found yourself face-to-face with the man from the bar. Up close, he was striking—his expressive eyes softened by a dimpled smile that seemed almost out of place given his serious tone. He was maybe a few years older than you, his lean, muscular build accentuated by a fitted black shirt.

“Who are you?” you asked, crossing your arms, your buzz fading fast.

“Choi San,” he said simply, his voice warm despite the professional edge. “Your new bodyguard.”

Your jaw dropped. “My what?”

San’s smile widened, a hint of mischief flickering in his eyes. “Your father hired me. Said you’ve been… enjoying college a bit too much.” He tilted his head, his tone teasing but not unkind. “I’m here to keep an eye on you.”

Your friends snickered, and Mia elbowed you. “You didn’t tell us you had a hot babysitter!”

“Shut up,” you hissed, heat creeping up your neck. You turned back to San, narrowing your eyes. “This is a mistake. I don’t need a bodyguard. I’m fine.”

San raised an eyebrow, his gaze steady but not confrontational. “You slipped your last security detail three times in one week. Your father wasn’t thrilled.”

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. Of course, your father would pull something like this. He’d always been overprotective, but hiring a bodyguard to follow you to college? That was a new low. “Look, San, I’m sure you’re great at… whatever it is you do, but I don’t need someone hovering over me. I’m just a normal college student.”

His lips twitched, like he was suppressing a laugh. “Normal college students don’t have chauffeurs waiting on speed dial or trust funds bigger than some countries’ GDPs.”

Your stomach dropped. He knew. Of course he did—he worked for your father. But hearing it out loud, in front of your friends, made your carefully crafted facade feel fragile. You shot him a glare. “Can we talk about this somewhere else?”

San nodded, gesturing toward a sleek black SUV parked a few feet away. “After you.”

You said goodnight to your friends, ignoring their teasing whispers, and followed San to the car. You slid into the back seat, and San took the driver’s seat, glancing at you through the rearview mirror.

“So,” you said, leaning forward, “what’s the deal? You follow me around, ruin my fun, and report back to my dad?”

San chuckled, a low, warm sound that caught you off guard. “Not exactly. My job is to keep you safe, not to snitch.''