Gift In Disguise

Every movement is calm, controlled, and efficient. But you carry a kind of danger. It can serve good or evil, but make no mistake—you are dangerous, more than what people realize. It’s not something you like to show, unless you want to make a clear statement.

Someone always has to learn the hard way. Just like today, you’ll give back what they bring. Psychological mind games, manipulation, subtle pressure, controlled silence and chaos—you’ll escalate it calmly, with precision, only if it’s necessary. This is your playing field.

“Boss?” Shadow—a colleague of yours say, pausing as he looks back at you.

Eunbi glances over too with curiosity in her eyes, wondering why you stopped short just before turning around the corner toward the elevators. She tries to follow your gaze but quickly finds nothing. Shadow, on the other hand, catches the signal instantly. No words needed.

This is just one of the many things that set you apart as a bodyguard—counter-surveillance isn’t easy, and it’s not a skill anyone can easily learn. It’s more than watching your surroundings; it’s about reading people, anticipating their moves. You see someone once, there’s no need to be alarmed. Twice, maybe it’s a coincidence. But the third time, you know you’re being tailed. Easier said than done.

“I need to use the bathroom. Escort Miss Eunbi to her room, Shadow,” you say, making an excuse as you continue to stare down at the person in the lobby from afar.

“Understood, Boss” the bodyguard says and continues to walk with Eunbi following right behind.

And right after Eunbi turns the corner, you adjust your earpiece to radio your colleagues. “This is Boss. Shadow is escorting Eunbi. Ghost, do you copy?”

“Copy.”

“What did security say about the possible Tango? Over.”

“They think we’re overreacting. We can’t do nothing about it. They seem like unseasoned security guards that haven’t gotten their hands dirty before when the threat is posing as a bodyguard.”

No bodyguard should be sitting down when there’s only four that’s in the building. It’s already a red flag. An experienced security guard would have caught on.

"Should I drag him by the hair to security?" you say, half-sarcastic, but not entirely joking. At this point, the risk of something happening is unknown. Anything can happen in a moment. You're not doing this just to protect Eunbi, but to ensure the safety of everyone in the building. It’s really not your job to, but something like this is already a security risk.

The whole time, your eyes stay locked on him—the threat. Whether he knows you're watching from a distance and is just playing dumb, you don’t care. You want him to realize he’s being stalked. You want him to feel uneasy. You want him to be afraid.

“What’s Tango doing? Confirm a description, Boss. Delta is right beside me. Shadow and Miss Eunbi just got out of the elevator and are walking to the room.”

“He’s sitting pretty with a phone in his face,” you reply, still staring down the threat. “Confirming—black baseball cap, black suit jacket, white flannel, black pants, brown dress shoes.”

“Copy that. No changes. Should I drag each security guard by their hair to you, Boss?” Ghost chuckles.

“It’s a good way to hurt their pride, and I’ll be proud—but let’s not get into legal lawsuits.”

“Right. Would you like me to take your place?”

“Rendezvous at my location. Try stalking and make it super obvious. Or try hitting on him if you get bored.”

“Is that really the extent you want me to go, Boss?” Ghost laughs.

“Up to you. Just let me know so we’re on the same page.”

What you really mean is, you aren’t pressuring Ghost to do honeypotting—a form of espionage where a woman flirts with a man to gather information or lower his guard. But if you can get something useful that way, it’s a win. Minimal risk. Maximum gain.

“Eunbi just entered the room a few seconds ago. I’ll be on my way down,” Ghost says.

Once Ghost takes over your position, you step into the elevator and head up to Eunbi. You glance at everyone who passes by from the corner of your eye—head on a swivel, even as they go about their day.

When you reach the room, you tap Delta on the shoulder and motion for him to patrol the floor. No one says it out loud, but the team feels it from the change in your glare—passivity dissolving into quiet tension. The calm watchfulness sharpens. Everyone’s posture straightens, eyes narrow. Surveillance shifts into staging. You and the team aren’t just watching anymore—you’re waiting for the moment to strike.

“Hey,” Eunbi whispers, opening the door after hearing your voice from outside her room. “Oppa.”

“Yes?”

She waves you into the room, and you follow her command. Eunbi gently closes the door behind you, leaving the two of you alone in the brightly lit room while her manager is still out getting snacks.

“Oppa, is everything okay?” she asks cautiously. “You were in the bathroom for so long. Are you feeling constipated? I have some medicine if you are.”

Seriously, what’s going on in her mind? Is she always like this? You don’t even know.

“No. And stick to ‘sir’ like you did before. We aren’t close like that.”

“Alright, Boss,” she replies, which already feels bizarre to you.

“Not that either.”

“Well, you’re not the actual boss-boss, though,” she says, tilting her head slightly. “Right?”

You keep a silent smile, with just a hint of a smirk.

“Hey, you’re a little annoying. At least answer me, Sir,” Eunbi pouts.

You would say Eunbi is an oddball, because how many names is she going to call you by, and within a simple response? She already called you by your name, “Sir,” “Oppa,” “Mister bodyguard,” and an informal “Hey”, all in rotation. It’s not a big deal to you, but it is getting a little annoying when she can’t stick to one name.

“Do you know what psychological misdirection is, Miss Eunbi?”

“A what?” she says, sitting down on the chair while you stand near the door.

If she doesn’t catch on, you’ll misdirect her to another topic—just to gauge how clueless she really is. “Want to know why I told you not to say my name? Get down.”

She stands up, confused, looking around before slowly squatting in front of you with her legs together. “What’s happening?”

“Stand up,” you say, looking down and meeting Eunbi’s gaze with her cleavage in your view, which was unintentional on your end to look down at her.

She obeys silently, still confused as ever.

“Sit back on the chair, Miss Eunbi.”

“W-what are you doing?” she asks, blindly grabbing the chair and sits down.

“At least you’re obedient, Miss Eunbi. Just listen and do whatever I tell you to do. Don’t question, don’t worry. Trust me, and I’ll trust you.”

She chuckles and rolls her eyes at how easily you controlled her. “Oppa, why do you look so paranoid, though? Nothing’s going to happen,” Eunbi says with a smile.

That’s the last thing you wanted to hear—“nothing will happen.”

Even omens exist in your line of work. It’s like telling a first responder, “It’s been quiet.” Anything can happen after that. And the smile Eunbi’s giving you meant to comfort, just hits a nerve instead.