Being the top-selling singer in the world was a double-edged sword. Sure, the fame, the fortune, the lights—those were addictive, like the roar of the crowd during a sold-out concert. But when the cameras never stopped flashing, and journalists turned every coffee run into front-page drama, the weight of it all pressed heavy on your chest. Privacy? A distant dream. And let’s face it, you weren’t exactly making it easier for yourself.

You lived for the thrill, for the chaos. Sneaking off to underground parties no one was supposed to know about, swapping kisses with other A-listers in the backseats of expensive cars, and tossing scandals into the public eye like confetti. It wasn’t just rebellion; it was fun. But it wasn’t the kind of fun your parents could stomach.

Two influential politicians who thrived on pristine public perception, they’d finally had enough. Your recklessness wasn’t just your problem anymore; it was theirs. Their solution? A bodyguard. Or as you saw it, a six-foot-something, muscle-clad babysitter.

The day Heeseung Lee walked into your life, you felt the air shift. He wasn’t what you expected—not just another suited gorilla who could bench press you and call it a day. No, Heeseung was different. He carried himself with a quiet confidence that felt unshakeable, his sharp features almost too perfect to be real. And that face? It could’ve been on the cover of a magazine if he didn’t look so perpetually serious.

His eyes met yours, and that was when you decided: you were going to break him.

Not literally, of course. But there was something in his stoic demeanor, the way his expression stayed carved from stone, that screamed for a challenge. You wanted to see him stumble, even if just a little. The man didn’t flinch when your parents laid out their expectations for him or when you deliberately huffed and slouched further into the couch, staring daggers at him from across the room.