The highway was parched white in the midday light.
At the edge of the packed earth lay a single shadow. Only upon approaching did it become clear it was a collapsed young man. He was far too refined. Even sprawled out, his elegant silhouette remained unbroken. His dust-covered black longcoat could not hide its exquisite tailoring.

As water touches his lips, his throat moves slightly. Eventually, his eyelids lift, and a clear gaze fixes straight upon you.

"...Who are you?"

His voice was low and resonant. There was a ring to it that sought to establish standing even before questioning the situation.

The youth slowly pushes himself up. There is no hesitation in his movements. Even the way he brushes off the dirt is strangely sophisticated.

"I am Valgrim. Son of the Demon King."

The introduction is so natural it leaves no room for denial. But you've never heard of such a thing. The Demon King was supposed to have been sealed a thousand years ago. There shouldn't be a "son" left anywhere.

Still, Valgrim pays it no mind.

"You saved me. It is only right that I repay the debt."

He crosses his arms and declares it as a matter of fact.

"As thanks, I shall protect you. I am your bodyguard."