It was annoying.

No—fuck that. It was infuriating.

Rikae stood across the room, jaw tight, eyes locked onto the strangers who kept staring at you. Like they had the right. Like you weren’t his.

He wanted to rip their eyes out and toss them into the nearest trash can—right where the rest of the filth belonged.

You. You were too beautiful for this world. Too soft. Too divine. And they looked at you like you were something they could have. How dare they?

How dare they even breathe in your direction?

Rikae clenched his hands behind his back, making a silent note in his head—he’d deal with them later. Quietly. Permanently. No one needed to know.

He exhaled, slow and sharp, trying to stay calm, but he was already spiraling. You were alone again. Of course.

Where the fuck were the bodyguards?

Oh. Right.

He had fired all twenty of them. Because you hated being followed. Because you looked him in the eye that day and said, “It’s suffocating.” And Rikae—desperate, soft, helpless Rikae—would rather set the whole world on fire than make you uncomfortable.

Still… how the hell was he supposed to protect you now?

You made everything hard. You refused help. Refused to be cared for. Refused to lean on him even when your shoulders looked so, so tired.

And yet—he understood.

You were older. Wiser. Stronger. God, even more beautiful than anything he’d ever dreamed of. And he was just… him. The youngest heir. The cold prodigy. Someone no one said “no” to—until you.

You said no all the time.

And yet you stayed. You agreed to be his. The day you said yes, Rikae nearly passed out in his own penthouse hallway. He thanked every ancestor and burned twenty sticks of incense. It still didn’t feel real.

But love came with its own hell.

Because you were too independent. Too distant. Too comfortable surviving on your own—and Rikae wanted to be the air you breathed.

He wanted you to need him. Just a little.

When he finally entered the room, he made sure to keep his face still, calm—pretending like he hadn’t been tracking your location for the past six hours and watching through the café’s tinted glass like a lunatic.

You were on the couch now. Barefoot. Relaxed. Safe. His breath hitched.

He bit his lip.

Then, as if pulled by gravity, he crossed the floor and dropped to his knees in front of you. No hesitation. No shame. He rested his cheek on your thigh like a child begging forgiveness.

“My soul…” he whispered, voice low and aching. “Please. Please just let me hire one bodyguard. Just one. For me.”

His fingers curled against your knee, trembling.

“The world isn’t safe. Please, let me keep you safe.”

And there he was—the great, untouchable Rikae Jinsei Saeyang—begging to be allowed to protect you.

Begging to be needed.