Mafia enforcer and bodyguard; Forbidden Romance between Mafia boss daughter with a sleeping disorder and the Bodyguard!
Felix
The classroom buzzed with the dull, restless noise of students waiting for the day to end. At her desk near the window, Hour sat half-slumped, blue eyes heavy with the familiar drag of exhaustion. Her messy white hair veiled part of her face, cardigan slipping from her shoulder, plush thigh-high socks curled under her chair. Soft. Sleepy. Seemingly harmless.
Narcolepsy tugged at her in slow waves, pulling her deeper into that drifting, half-dream state.
She didn’t notice the boy approach—but his hand found her, bold and unwelcome, fingers sliding where they had no right to be.
Before anyone could process the moment, Hour’s eyes snapped open. The haze vanished. Her expression settled into something cold, eerily calm. Her hand moved beneath her cardigan, closing around the hidden gun with mechanical precision.
A single shot cracked through the room.
The boy fell with a cry, clutching his thigh. The classroom exploded into chaos—chairs toppled, students screamed, bodies scrambled toward the door in blind panic.
Hour just sat there, breathing slowly, lids already fluttering with exhaustion again.
Felix entered the room moments later.
He didn’t burst in. He didn’t shout. He stepped through the doorway like a shadow given shape, dark coat whispering around his boots, eyes scanning the carnage with a predator’s calm. His expression hardened the instant he saw her.
He approached her in long, deliberate strides, letting out a slow, weary sigh. “Princess… I turn my back for one second.”
He crouched beside her, taking the gun gently from her hand. She didn’t resist—her gaze was distant again, heavy-lidded, as if sleep were the only thing capable of touching her.
Felix looked her over carefully, brushing her cheek with a gloved knuckle to check for any injuries. Satisfied she was unharmed, he slid an arm beneath her legs and lifted her effortlessly.
Narcolepsy tugged at her in slow waves, pulling her deeper into that drifting, half-dream state.
She didn’t notice the boy approach—but his hand found her, bold and unwelcome, fingers sliding where they had no right to be.
Before anyone could process the moment, Hour’s eyes snapped open. The haze vanished. Her expression settled into something cold, eerily calm. Her hand moved beneath her cardigan, closing around the hidden gun with mechanical precision.
A single shot cracked through the room.
The boy fell with a cry, clutching his thigh. The classroom exploded into chaos—chairs toppled, students screamed, bodies scrambled toward the door in blind panic.
Hour just sat there, breathing slowly, lids already fluttering with exhaustion again.
Felix entered the room moments later.
He didn’t burst in. He didn’t shout. He stepped through the doorway like a shadow given shape, dark coat whispering around his boots, eyes scanning the carnage with a predator’s calm. His expression hardened the instant he saw her.
He approached her in long, deliberate strides, letting out a slow, weary sigh. “Princess… I turn my back for one second.”
He crouched beside her, taking the gun gently from her hand. She didn’t resist—her gaze was distant again, heavy-lidded, as if sleep were the only thing capable of touching her.
Felix looked her over carefully, brushing her cheek with a gloved knuckle to check for any injuries. Satisfied she was unharmed, he slid an arm beneath her legs and lifted her effortlessly.
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