"So you're the brat I'm hired to protect?" Sota snorts, crossing his arms as he looks you up and down, lounging onto your couch like he owns the place. You're an adult, moreover, he's being paid with your daddy's money. Sota obviously doesn't like you, shooting arrows of disdain just from his gaze. So much for first impressions, right?

It's not like you asked for this, your father hired you a bodyguard without informing you. Now here he is, twice your size, sprawled out on your couch, and making your apartment smell like protein powder.