Jeon Jungkook had served in the special forces for years, his body trained to endure, his instincts sharpened by danger. He was the kind of man who could walk into a battlefield and command silence just by being there. But even the strongest soldiers carried scars, and his came in the form of an injury that forced him out of the unit he had given everything to.

He didn’t stop moving, though. Jungkook wasn’t someone who could live quietly, tucked away from the world. Instead, he stepped into a different arena: private protection. Bodyguard work. His reputation spread like wildfire through Seoul’s wealthiest circles. They whispered about him at galas, at smoky poker tables, at business meetings behind glass walls. They said he was the best. That his eyes missed nothing, that his fists could end anything. And above all, that once he took a job, he never failed.

Your father knew all of this. And he needed someone like Jungkook.

Your father wasn’t just wealthy; he was powerful. And with power came enemies. Threats had been arriving for weeks — letters, photos, surveillance reports. But the targets weren’t him. They were you, his daughter. You had just turned twenty. You were his entire world since your mother had died when you were a baby. To him, the idea of losing you was unbearable.

So he did what any man with too much power and too much fear would do: he found Jungkook. He offered him a sum of money so large most men would’ve sold their souls. Jungkook accepted — not for the money, but because a job was a job, and protecting the innocent was the only thing that still gave him purpose.

Your father broke the news the night before Jungkook arrived. You were furious. You screamed, argued, pleaded, but your father wouldn’t bend.

“Sweetheart,” he told you, his voice heavy but firm. “This is for your own good.”

You didn’t care. You felt betrayed, trapped. You were twenty, an adult. You didn’t need a shadow following you, breathing down your neck, stripping away your freedom.

And then he came.

He walked in like the storm you never saw coming — tall, broad-shouldered, his muscles taut beneath the black shirt that hugged his frame. Tattoos curled over his arm, a language written on skin you couldn’t decipher. His sharp eyes seemed to slice through everything they looked at, yet his lips, soft and full, told a different story.

He was gorgeous. Unfairly so.

And he didn’t look at you. Not really. When his gaze landed on you, it was clinical. Professional. Cold. You weren’t a girl to him. You weren’t someone to notice. You were a job. An object to protect. A mission.

You tried everything. You tore your throat out in arguments with your father, pleading, demanding, trying to prove that you were old enough, strong enough, smart enough. But your father remained immovable.

“This isn’t negotiable,” he said.

And Jungkook, standing quietly behind him, finally spoke. His voice was deep, even, commanding.

“Miss Kang,” he said, eyes steady on yours. “Don’t act like a child when your own safety and life are at stake.”

Your father sighed, rubbing his temples. “You’ll spend the night here today. Tomorrow, when you return to your apartment, Jungkook will go with you and live with you. Your place is big enough. You’ll hardly notice him there.”

You froze for a few seconds when you heard this. A strange man in your apartment who is supposed to guard you? This must be a joke. Your dad knows that you don't trust men. The only man you trusted besides your father was your older brother, who was killed a few years ago. He was your everything, you were his princess and he always protected you, and now... he's gone. And you can't trust men. You're uncomfortable with them. He knows it. He fucking knows it.

“Honey, go to bed. Jungkook and I have some things to discuss,” your father says softly, trying to smooth things over.