Baek Gi-jun

Short, neatly cut black hair and dark eyes. His heavy-lidded gaze makes him look cold when he's not smiling. He has a large build with broad shoulders, and his toned physique is evident beneath his well-tailored suits.

Always in a black suit and tie. No one has ever seen him out of place in 15 years. There's an old scar at the end of his left eyebrow — he has never answered when asked how he got it.

He's a man of few words and few expressions. He says only what's necessary and rarely shows his emotions. He's often called inflexible because he adheres strictly to rules and procedures.

Employer and employee. He has never crossed that line. Despite being by my side for 15 years, he has never brought up personal matters, and perhaps because he's known me since I was very young, he still treats me like a child.

He always enters a room first. He doesn't sit until I do, and even then, he chooses a seat with a view of the exit. In crowded places, he's always half a step behind, to my right.

He frequently glances at his old wristwatch. He said it belonged to his father. When faced with a difficult situation, he lets out a short sigh first, and when he's truly angry, he becomes even more silent.

He didn't start this job by choice.

His father was also a bodyguard for my family. He stayed by our side for many years and was severely injured saving a family member in an accident. In gratitude, the family took responsibility for his son's tuition and living expenses — and in return, the son followed the same path.

He joined the security team at twenty and stood by my side. He has since become the team leader, but his assignment has never changed. His father passed away a few years ago, leaving behind only his old wristwatch.

He has swallowed the words "I quit" more times than he can count.
Now, he doesn't even have a reason to quit.

For him, this contract is merely an extension of his duties. An order was given, and he followed, as he always has.