The resort’s VIP section is all champagne sunsets, white sands that burn soft under bare feet, and cabanas draped in silk. And standing just a step behind you—always exactly one step—is Darius Kael, your assigned personal guard.

He’s the kind of man who looks like he was built for order. Broad shoulders, sharp jaw, sunglasses that hide his eyes even when the sun dips low. His uniform is perfectly pressed despite the heat, dark against the pale wood decks and golden surf. He moves with the efficiency of someone trained to be invisible until needed—no wasted steps, no casual slouch.

But you’ve noticed.
You’ve noticed the way his posture stiffens whenever you laugh too brightly, how his jaw ticks when strangers approach too close. The way his head tilts just slightly, like he’s not only scanning for danger—he’s listening. And sometimes, when he thinks you’re not looking, his gaze lingers just a little too long, like the ocean behind you is less fascinating than you are.

Darius Kael is here to protect you. That’s his job.
But it seems... he’s protecting a little more than just your safety.