*SHK’s POV*

“I think this is more appropriate for the occasion, young miss,” Min Ji says, raising the yellow dress with her right hand in front of me. Feeling undecided, I asked for her help in choosing which outfit to wear for the press conference today, as what we always do whenever I had an event to attend. It has always been her dream to become a stylist and right now, she’s having way too much fun assembling an outfit for me.

“And we should tie your hair half way. It suits the outfit,” she adds as she proceeds to choosing accessories to match the dress. I, on the other hand, am still drifting, thinking about happened last night. There went Agent Song again, playing the hot and cold game with me. I really don’t get him.

I still remember what Min Young and I talked about yesterday over coffee.

“So, how’s the life of being the first daughter?” she asked, taking a bite of blueberry cheesecake.

“The same as always, you know how it is,” I answer and she nods in understanding.

“And the event yesterday?”

“Well, it actually went really well. The kids were having fun as there were lots of games and food to enjoy,” I said with a smile. “Such a shame you weren’t able to attend.”

“Yeah. I really wanted to go, but I had to support Chang Wook. You know, girlfriend duties.” Her boyfriend, aside from being an accomplished businessman is also a car racer. And knowing her, she would go all out in supporting him as what she always does to the people she cares about. “Anyway, I’m glad you had fun. I know it’s not always the case what with everything that’s been happening,” she adds and I nod.

“Yeah. I, too, was surprised. I didn’t expect to be so immersed in that project since Eomma only forced me to participate in it. I’m glad she did, though. It was so much fun, the kids were so cute, even those guys couldn’t resist them.” I gestured towards my bodyguards who were standing guard as usual.

“Oh, speaking of which, I noticed that you no longer cringe at the mention of them,” she said and I looked up from my drink. “What happened? What changed?”

“Well,” I started and placed my drink on top of the table before continuing. “I thought about what you said and realized that you were right. They also had no choice and they’re only doing their job, so there really is no reason for me to hate them.”

“Really now?” she asked, challenging me.

“Yup,” I leaned in and took another sip.

“Even that Agent Song? You no longer hate him?” she raised a brow at me and I scowled at her. “Wait, where is he, anyway? I don’t think I’ve seen him tailing you today.”

“He’s off duty today. And yes, I no longer hate him,” I said and she looked at me, seeming to prod me to explain further, which I didn’t. “He confuses me, though.”

“Confuses you? What do you mean?” she leaned in, intrigued.

“Well, I don’t get him sometimes. It’s like he’s two different persons in one body. One time he’d be all carefree and fun to talk to, the next he’d be all serious and cold. As if he couldn’t wait to get away from me.”

“Why do you think he’s acting like that?” she asked and I found myself asking the same question, too.

“I don’t know. He’s so unpredictable. Just like these days, it’s as if he’s avoiding me.” I complained and watched her as her expression changed.

“Ah, I know,” she said, leaning in excitedly. “Maybe, he has a crush on you,” she added and I looked at her with an expression as if telling her that it’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard of, but deep inside, I feel myself blushing.

“Or maybe he just hates me,” I countered.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Why would he? Didn’t you tell me that you’re being nice to them now?”

“And your point is?” I asked, not knowing where she’s getting to.

“Well, maybe it’s just him trying to suppress his feelings for you. That carefree side of him you kept saying, maybe that’s just him being all natural whenever he’s with you, then he suddenly remembers that he’s not supposed to feel or act that way, thus he immediately turns into serious mode. After all, technically, you’re still his boss,” she said, smiling and acting all pleased with her theory.

“You know that you’re not making any sense right now, right?”

“I am! And you know that,” she said confidently and I shook my head at her.

“You’re unbelievable,” I said, taking my drink. “You and your crazy theories.”

“My theories aren’t crazy.”

“Fine. Not all, but most. Remember that time when you thought that the moon was made of cheese when we were kids?” I asked, knowing that I’d win this argument and she rolled her eyes, making me laugh.

“Whatever,” she said, dismissing the topic. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’m almost a hundred percent sure that your bodyguard is crushing on you. And one day, you’ll just be surprised when he suddenly confesses to you.”

I was about to give her my biggest frown when she raised her hand to stop me. “Just be ready when that time comes.”

--- 

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“Young miss, are you listening? Young miss?” Min Ji asks and I’m pulled out from my trance.

“W-what?” I ask her, distracted.

“I said, you might want to start changing into your clothes. You wouldn’t want to be late, do you?” she asks, probably wondering why I spaced out like that.

“Oh, yeah. I guess I don’t,” I say and she looks at me suspiciously. “I better change,” I add, wanting to escape her scrutinizing eyes. Having known each other for years, she knows it when I’m bothered about something. I usually tell her, but this time, I don’t feel like doing so. So instead, I grab my change of clothes then head to the bathroom to change. Wouldn’t want to be late for an event so important.

A few hours later, I find myself seated in front of dozens of cameras, answering various questions thrown by journalists regarding the fundraising I’m conducting for the orphanage. I am not alone, though. There are others, volunteers and event organizers, who are with me to promote the activity. After the event the other day, we have come to realize that we need more funds to help make the orphanage a better home for the children.

Sure, the charity event made them happy for a day, but we also need to do something that would benefit them in the long run. More books and learning materials for them to utilize for example. That is why we immediately thought of holding a press conference to make others aware of the situation of the children.

The press con started out well, what with them asking about the happenings of the previous event. But then, I noticed that more and more questions are thrown at me, asking about my other projects for example. It seems that the media is interested in knowing the whereabouts of the President’s daughter and what I’m doing to help with the campaign.

I’m not complaining, though, as I am doing this for the benefit of the children in the orphanage and I’m actually glad that they’re showing interest in this project. However, I hope that they’d stop asking questions not related to the activity. There are just reporters who keep crossing the line, asking about personal matters.

I continue answering the questions carefully while the agents stand guard around the area, always on the lookout for possible danger. Agent Song, I noticed is busy listening to his earpiece, probably monitoring the place. He moves from one place to another and I find myself getting distracted.

Stop it, Hye Kyo. Didn’t you say you were going to ignore him? I think to myself as I watch him station himself next to the agent they call Harry Potter. Confused and annoyed as to why he keeps changing from hot to cold all the time when I’m not even doing anything, I decided to just go back to how I treated him before – act as if he’s invisible.

Him and his inconsistent actions. Well, if he keeps getting unpredictable like that, I might as well be the one who’s consistent here. Take for example how he kept on avoiding my gaze the whole morning and just gave me a curt nod and a very formal ‘good morning’ when our paths crossed. Doesn’t he know how annoying it is when one time we’re having a fun conversation then the next he’d act all cold and serious? Just how moody could he get?

I was trying to be civil, to act friendly, but I guess he doesn’t want that. Well, if he doesn’t want to talk to me, then fine. I won’t talk to him either.

The press conference ends half an hour later with us giving concluding messages and the hosts shaking hands with us. We then head down the stage and Agent Song offers a hand to help me but I refuse it. I’m still mad at him for last night and for the way he’s been acting for days. He must’ve sensed my irritation that he lets his hand down yet still positions himself near me. I almost roll my eyes, but remember that the cameras are on me and that it wouldn’t be good publicity if the news features the daughter of the President being snobby, so I just settle on ignoring him.

“This way, Miss,” he says after I bid my goodbye to the volunteers and head towards the exit all while cameras keep flashing on me. The other agents surround me, shielding me from the reporters who seem to not be contented on the answers I gave during the presscon, while I focus on getting out of the venue. Times like this always suffocate me and I just couldn’t wait to have a nice long massage after this. After all, I deserve it after all the hard work I’ve been doing these past few days, right?

We have just reached the door and the reporters have started to leave us when Agent Song’s phone rings. I look at him as he reaches out for his phone then roll my eyes as he answers it, walking ahead of us.

“Yeoboseyo?” he answers and I start walking towards the car, deciding to continue with the ‘pretend he’s invisible’ game I’ve been playing. “What?!” he asks, his voice raised, which immediately catches my attention. I watch as his expression turns to dread. “I’ll send some of my men over there, sir,” he says with his teeth clenched. “Okay, sir. Got it,” he ends the call with a serious expression.

“What was that about? Who was that?” I ask, my curiosity getting the best of me, but he ignores me. Instead, he turns to the other agents.

“Wolf, Snoopy,” he says and the two agents snap to attention. “You’re needed at the Blue House now,” he orders with urgency in his voice and I find myself getting more worried. What is happening?

“Agent Song! I demand an answer!” I say, my voice also raised and this time he turns to me.

“We have to go now, Miss,” he says, his voice clipped. The two agents start to file towards the other car.

“Why? What’s happening? Are we going to back to the Blue House?”

“No, Miss. I have to take you somewhere else,” he says and I look at him, ready to bombard him with questions. “They’re excavating everyone at the Blue House. It’s not safe to go back there.”

“What are you talking about? What do you mean it’s not safe?!” I ask, confused. What is it this time?

“A bomb threat has been issued,” he says and horror creeps into my veins.

“What?!!” I ask, horrified. A bomb threat? “What about my parents? Are they hurt? Are they safe? Please tell me they are.” I’m panicking now and his expression softens a bit.

“Yes, they are, Miss. So, if you may, we really should get you out of here before…” he starts and I cut him off.

“Before what?! What else is going to happen?! I need to go to my parents now, I need to…”

“Duck!!!” Someone shouts and everyone follows as gunshots start to come our way. I’m still too stunned of what’s happening that the nearest Agent grabs me to shield me. We hear a loud gunshot and Piccolo grunts beside me. I notice something red leaking from his shirt, staining my dress as well and my eyes start to widen. He’s shot.

“Get in, Miss,” he shoves me towards the car, pain clearly painted on his expression while he clutches his side.

“But…” I try to protest, wanting to know if he’s okay but he waves me off.

“Please Miss, we have to get you to safety. Get in,” he insists while more gunshots keep coming our way. I glance towards the others and realize that they too have their guns out while the reporters scramble out of the area. The car is getting near now.

Terrified, I frantically nod and follow his instruction. I get in the car, not even stopping when one shoe falls off. I close the door and soon enough, the car zooms out of the venue.

“Hold tight,” a familiar voice says and I turn towards the fierce face of Agent Song, his hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. Before I could even react, he increases the car’s speed and I clutch the back of the seat in front of me to steady myself.

“What about the others?” I ask, the moment I regain my voice while we speed away from the building, dodging cars on the process. “