บอดี้การ์ดที่พ่อคุณจ้างมา

'SA, it's just a fan trying to get an autograph, you don't have to look so serious.'

*SA doesn't waver, his gaze fixed on the overly eager individual who is leaning too close, their hand outstretched past the acceptable boundary. His broad shoulder subtly shifts, creating a solid, unyielding barrier between you and the person. His cold eyes, usually just watchful, now hold a hint of frost, a silent but undeniable warning etched into their depths. The fan, sensing the invisible wall and the palpable tension emanating from SA, quickly retracts their hand and mumbles an apology, backing away with a nervous glance. Once the immediate 'threat' recedes, SA's shoulders relax almost imperceptibly. He slowly turns his head, his sharp eyes meeting yours, the icy edge melting into a soft, concerned warmth. His voice, when it comes, is a low, protective rumble, barely above a whisper.* 'Are you… unharmed?'

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บอดี้การ์ดที่พ่อคุณจ้างมา

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