“So, you’re Satrio?” Vina asked without much preamble. Her voice was soft, but it clearly carried authority.
Vina was the embodiment of beauty radiating authority. This young, beautiful woman had a sharp gaze—a reflection of undeniable intelligence and decisiveness. Dressed in a dark blue silk blouse and a knee-length skirt, her hair neatly tied back, she was the perfect representation of a powerful figure.
“Yes, Miss,” Satrio replied, keeping his voice steady.
Vina looked Satrio up and down as if validating data from a questionable input. “Mr. Roni said you have potential. But honestly, I have my doubts. Visually, you still look too young.”
“My physical condition has been rigorously trained, Miss,” Satrio countered. “I’ve also learned how to protect myself and others. This is about the accuracy of threat predictions.”
Vina gave a faint smile, one concealing a complex evaluation algorithm. “Protect yourself? Do you know what data you’re supposed to protect?” Vina took an envelope from her desk and tossed it at Satrio. “Look at that.”
Satrio opened the envelope. Inside were photographs of him: portraits from when he was still Yoyi the trans woman, when he was street performing, when he was wearing dresses and makeup. His heart pounded, and his face suddenly went pale. This was the past he had tried to erase from his life’s dataset.
“You think I don’t have a record of your history?” Vina stabbed. “I know everything. I know you’re Yoyi, a street faggot. I know you changed your name to Satrio. Your complete historical data is in my hands.”
Satrio’s face flushed, a blend of shame and anger. The veins in his temples tightened as if holding back explosive energy ready to slam into the world. The only thing keeping him sitting upright was the brutal training that had implanted steel discipline in his nervous system.
“That’s my past, Miss. I’ve changed. I’ve gone through an intensive training process,” he said, his voice like a taut steel wire—hard, yet controlled.
“Changed?” Vina raised an eyebrow, her tone condescending. Only the corner of her lips lifted; her eyes remained cold as ice. “A faggot can’t change, Satrio. Once a faggot, always a faggot.”
Satrio’s breath caught in his chest. The world around him seemed to move in slow motion. Those words didn’t just insult him—they knocked down the foundation of his new identity. His grip tightened around the edge of the chair, his knuckles turning white.
“That’s not true, Miss!” Satrio protested, his voice still firm. “I want to become a real man. I…”
“Enough!” Vina cut him off. “I don’t care about your motivations. What I care about is whether you can become the bodyguard I expect. Don’t let your past interfere with the quality of your work. If you disappoint me, I won’t hesitate to fire you. Understand?”
“Understood, Miss,” Satrio replied, swallowing the bitter liquid that had suddenly filled his mouth.
Vina rose. Her movements were smooth, graceful, and imbued with power, like an expensive robot that had just been activated. “Good. From now on, you follow me. We’re starting your implementation now.”
Satrio stood. His gaze remained fixed on Vina, not as his superior, but as a puzzle. His heart felt like a hammer pounding against his chest.
“She’s completely different. She doesn’t recognize me. Maybe she isn’t Jo—maybe she just looks like her,” he thought. The Jo he knew wasn’t an arrogant woman who spoke so condescendingly. The Jo in his memories was sincere.
Satrio had to do his job while continuing to struggle with processing his boss’s doubts. He was now Vina’s real-time security system. He was always at Vina’s side. His task: observe every person and every corner of the room, making sure there were no errors or threats.
At first, Satrio was awkward. He moved stiffly, like a wooden plank forced to dance, having to adapt to the world of the rich with all its formalities while dealing with Vina’s cold professionalism.
One afternoon, inside the car, Satrio realized that Vina had entered standby mode. Her tense face, always processing high-intensity data while working, now looked peaceful. Satrio observed her: behind the tireless businesswoman persona, Vina was just an ordinary human being who needed to reboot.
“You really are a tough woman, Miss Vina,” he murmured inwardly.
Vina opened her eyes briefly, realizing that Satrio was watching her. “Is there a problem?” she asked flatly.
Satrio slowly shook his head. “No, Miss. Everything is safe and under control. I’m just ensuring your security. It’s the primary protocol and my commitment as your personal bodyguard.”
Vina nodded, then closed her eyes again. In his heart, Satrio carved out a promise: he would protect Vina, no matter what happened. The promise felt heavy, mixed with his desire to prove that he was no longer ‘Yoyi.’
That night, at a formal event, Vina looked stunning in an evening gown, while Satrio looked dashing at her side. As they walked, Satrio’s eyes swept over the surroundings. He noticed an out-of-sync movement—a suspicious man who kept following their every move.
The man approached. His fingers moved slowly, slipping into the inner pocket of his suit. Satrio’s eyes caught a faint metallic reflection in the folds of the fabric. It lasted only a moment, but it was enough to trigger the highest alarm in his brain.
“Miss Vina, change your position immediately,” Satrio whispered. His tone was urgent, his voice no more than a breathy hiss, yet filled with undeniable authority.
Vina immediately sensed that something was wrong. “What is it, Satrio?”
That was when Satrio moved. His agile motion left no trace, as if his body had been designed for pure speed. Satrio pulled Vina behind him, then pivoted and restrained the man in a deadly arm lock. It was the fastest response he had ever made.
The man struggled and shouted, “Let me go! I just wanted to give her my business card!”
Satrio paid no attention to his shouting. “You can’t come in. Show me your hands now.” Satrio’s voice was flat and firm, his eyes never leaving the pocket where the man’s hand had disappeared. He gripped the man’s wrist tightly, the muscles in his arm tensing like steel wire.
Satrio tightened his grip, holding the man until two security officers came running over. Only then did he let go, drawing a deep breath. His chest rose and fell rapidly.
“What’s going on? Who is he?” Vina stepped closer, her eyes widening as she watched the officers take the man away.
“He was going to attack you, Miss,” Satrio replied. He leaned forward slightly, one hand touching his temple, his breathing still heavy and ragged.
Security apprehended the man. Vina looked at Satrio differently now. The hard lines on her face softened. Admiration and gratitude surged in her eyes.
“You really are a good bodyguard, Satrio,” Vina said sincerely. “You saved my life.”
“It’s my job, Miss,” Satrio replied. Inside, he felt a cold satisfaction. Proof. The slap he had felt at the office, he had now returned through his actions. Vina’s words just now were stronger validation than a thousand insults.
Yet amid the wave of validation and the adrenaline gradually ebbing away, Satrio saw something beyond the crowd. Before disappearing completely, the man who had just been apprehended by security turned to look at them. In the man’s sharp gaze, Satrio saw not the hatred of a failed attacker, but something far colder and more organized: a message.
Satrio ignored the greetings and words of admiration from several of Vina’s colleagues who approached them. His thoughts were focused on that silent message. He was certain the attack had only been bait.