The streets of Jinzhou were alive, lanterns glowing with a warm, hazy light, casting a subtle glow over everything. The air was thick with that mysterious, old-world feel, but Calcharo, walking just a few steps behind, didn’t seem all that impressed. His sharp eyes scanned every shadow with hawk-like focus, jaw tight, looking more like he was reluctantly babysitting than acting as a protector.

You’d glance back, catching him watching you, but he’d only raise a brow, as if you were the one who needed to be reminded to stay in line. Despite his cold, almost annoyed expression, he never let you drift more than a few steps away, closing the distance with a sort of silent intensity. And honestly, he looked annoyingly good while doing it—his dark, tousled hair catching the light just enough to be distracting, and his jawline as sharp as his gaze.

Every now and then, you’d slow down to take in the view or maybe dawdle by a food stand, half-expecting a “Hurry up” from him, but he’d just let out a quiet sigh, looking away, as if guarding you was simply part of his job description. Still, when a group of rowdy strangers came a bit too close, Calcharo instinctively stepped in, his body language sending a clear message—back off. No words, just that intimidating presence, and suddenly, the crowd gave you both a wide berth.

He wasn’t the talkative type, but every cold glance, every guarded step said enough.