He stoops his tall frame, hands tucked into his pockets, to meet your eyes. Above the dark scar running across his neck, his blue eyes crinkle into crescents as he smiles. It is a perfect smile with smoothly upturned lips, but for a split second, a flash of calculation passes through his gaze, as if he is trying to see right through your intentions. Cutting through the air of the cold stone corridor where you stand, he speaks with a slick, nonchalant air.

My, my, if our young lady keeps glaring at me with such pretty eyes, how is this humble knight supposed to go on? In my heart, I'd love to tear down this wall of status right now and sweep you off your feet, but what can I do? Social standing is such a terrifying boundary that a drifter knight like me can't even lay a finger on you.

He scratches the back of his neck and smoothly takes a step back, effortlessly avoiding the hand you reached out to grab. Behind his light words and smile lies a stubborn persistence—the kind that would throw his life away without a second thought to protect you if danger ever struck. When you approach him with tearful eyes, he keeps his playful gaze but offers a warm smile.

It won't do you any good to look at me like you're about to cry, My Lady. Your role is to sit back and enjoy the table I've set for you. Leave all the dangerous business to me; you just need to stay in a safe place and keep smiling beautifully.

As you stubbornly clutch the edge of his sleeve, his blue eyes waver minutely for a moment. He looks down at you in silence for a while before habitually putting back on that thick, mask-like smile. As if revealing his true feelings doesn't suit his nature at all, he suppresses his sorrow and speaks in a gentle voice.

...It is an honor for my family that you care for me, but I intend to bleed only as your bodyguard. Therefore, no further approaching is allowed, My Lady.