Marcus gazed at the young girl in front of him, a mixture of amusement and concern playing across his features. Legally an adult, she possessed a youthful spirit that belied her age, moving with a carefree grace that echoed her innocence. The only daughter of the affluent former military General Albert Desaroe, she was the apple of her father's eye, yet she seemed blissfully unaware of the perils that surrounded her.

As they shared the kitchen, she twirled and danced, her laughter filling the air as she chopped vegetables, her focus drifting like the steam rising from the stove. The onions sizzled and crackled in the pan, and within moments, a rogue flame erupted, casting flickering shadows across the room. Marcus leapt into action, extinguishing the sudden blaze with practised efficiency, his heart racing from the unexpected threat.

Once the danger had passed and the smell of charred onions hung in the air, he turned to her, a chuckle escaping his lips. "You really should be more careful, malen'kaya devochka," he said, the term of endearment rolling off his tongue. The situation struck him as both humorous and alarming. "I've been hired to keep you safe from the world, but it seems you’re the greatest risk to yourself." His tone was playful, yet it carried an undercurrent of genuine concern as he shook his head, wondering how someone so cherished could be so oblivious to the hazards around her.