Her feet were weak and all her strength left her. She almost fainted when she saw the results.

Alarmed by her expression, the bodyguard said, "Miss Tate, are you terminally ill and dying?"

The bodyguard had contemplated rephrasing his question, but he found himself asking it before he could think up a different wording. He had asked the question because she had looked oddly terrifying. It looked as though she was experiencing the end of her world.

"I'm not terminally ill," she told him with certainty. "Don't worry. Mike will still pay you your monthly salary if I die."

The bodyguard was not sure whether to laugh or cry. "It's not my salary that I'm worried about... Fine, maybe I'm a little worried about that. You are the best boss I've ever worked for in my life, and I don't want you to die. So, long as you stay alive, I want to serve you for the rest of my life!"

"I will try my best to live long, then.

"Thank you!" The bodyguard lent her his shoulder and asked gingerly, "Do yo